Page 43 of The Bairwick Witches
Water continued to pour out onto the floor around Schuyler’s feet as he pumped furiously into Issac, who begged for more. Sky felt his orgasm approaching and ignored any internal request to delay the experience. There was no concern about Issac’s readiness; he could be finished off later—or not at all. Schuyler thought only of his own climax, growing ever closer. Issac repositioned himself, wrapping one arm around Schuyler’s neck, and rode him harder. The sink barely held them up. Schuyler howled as he unloaded deep inside Issac.
Chapter Sixteen
Schuyler held Dev’s journal, flipping the simple, brown leather book—secured by an attached strap—around in hands. A hundred or so pages filled with his words, his thoughts, and still the courage had yet to be summoned to read anything past the two pages which contained the spell. Issac had insisted on him having it, and first thing after he gave Schuyler amazing morning oral, he handed the journal over.
Schuyler had devoured the pages of the spell, finding the instructions in Dev’s swoopy, cursive-mixed-with-script handwriting solid enough to work. Sky wasn’t sure he was ready for the rest: an unabridged deep dive into Dev’s emotions. Not with his own still so tenderly exposed above the surface. Who knew what was on those pages, what secrets could be revealed? After recent events, Schuyler knew he held no further capacity for shocking revelations, so the remainder of the pages would wait.
He watched Issac fussing about the bed, setting out all the ingredients procured for the spell, which they would be heading out to do when the moon rose. The trinket balls all alignedin a row, double and triple checked, ready to be placed into his messenger bag. During their time apart, Issac had proven himself resourceful, acquiring the goat bladder filled with urine, the black salt, dust of a ground skull, candles, a ritual Athame, and moon water.
“I found this instant altar, which was a blessing, ‘cause I was not sure how to accomplish that part, and I… well, I couldn’t ask you at that moment, but crisis adverted.” He beamed, holding up his find. A clear ball containing a pop-up altar complete with a cauldron and fire source—before tucking it into the bag. “I don’t get how all this works though? Dust and dirt, and ground up flowers? Like, I get its witchcraft and all, but I don’t gethow.”
“Everything on the planet has an energetic vibration,” Schuyler explained, getting up and joining Issac at the bed. He juggled a couple of the trinkets around. “Animals, plants, rocks and crystals—even us. That’s what this is.” Sky held up his hand as streams of blue energy wrapped around his hand. “This is just a natural reaction to my vibration being manipulated, charging the atoms and the ions in the air, making the energy visible because I’m a natural witch, and we’re in Bairwick. Outside of here, we would only be able to feel this energetic shift. All witches can feel it. They would sense the change in the vibration and know.
“When you take the ingredients and combine them, you’re joining their vibrations, which mix and marry, creating a new energy. When you manipulate the vibration further, through intention and ritual, the energetic reaction occurs and those effects are felt in the natural world.” Schuyler playfully blew his hand out. He moved behind Issac, hugging him tightly. “You’re going to do great.”
Issac nestled against him, rubbing his ass against Sky’s crotch, “I will, because you’ll be there. But, I dunno, I feel like Ishould have a better bag for this.” Breaking the embrace, Issac looked down at the worn bag he’d used for nursing school. “Should be something witchy-er. Something with more of an aesthetic that says, ‘Heyyy, I’m doing witchcraft here’
“Such as?”
“Something black and silky, small but impossibly big on the inside.” He checked out his bag again, cutting his eyes to it, silently displeased, as he placed the rest of the ingredients in. Schuyler added the journal in, as well.
They had spent the morning in bed, and the afternoon working on the spell’s incantation. Schuyler explained the importance of ensuring each word was pronounced correctly, and how Issac needed to be clear and concise when commanding magic. One slip, one fumbled word, and the spell could become something different.
Now they were trapped in the final anxious hour before the moon rose. Schuyler had read the spell a little more closely than Issac had, and realized the instructions meant that not only did the spell need to be performed on the first night of the full moon, but that the required potion also had to be ready the moment the moon’s borrowed light shone down upon the grave.
Schuyler messaged his friend, Octavia Renauld, the most prominent Lunar Witch he knew. She tied her power to the phases, so no one understood the moon’s timing better. She informed him when to be at Dev’s grave.
Now, all they could do was wait.
“Do you know what you’re going to say to him?” Issac asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking cute in his tight jeans and tighter t-shirt.
The question caught Schuyler off guard. He’d been so distracted by the fact that he was going to see Dev that thewhatto saypart hadn’t even crossed his mind. He needed to know about the silence more than anything.
I love you? I miss you? Wish you hadn’t died on me and all that?
“I don’t know.” That was the truest answer. “Seeing him in the flesh may prove too much, so, who knows. I’m going to take this one step at a time. We’ve got to get the spell right first.”
“We will. We’re ready.” Issac’s legs bounced with nervousness. He bit on his bottom lip, eagerness eating him alive.
“Do you feel ready? This is your show after all. I’m just backup.”
Issac grabbed his wand, the opal insets glowing every time he held it. “I am.” He tucked the wand in his pocket and moved over to the chair where Sky sat, kneeling between his legs, sliding his hands over his thighs, looking up. “I’m only ready because of you. There aren’t enough words to thank you for helping me.” He leaned up, his lips meeting Schuyler’s. “I was thinking of staying, if tonight goes well and all—staying here with you.”
Issac rose, climbing into his lap, continuing the kisses. “I don’t know how you feel about that. Truth is, I think I’m going to stay either way, if it’s okay?” Issac leaned back, curious for a response, and hoping for the best.
Schuyler peered into the face of the young man atop him, the evening light casting shadows across both of them. He wanted to hear those words. He hoped Issac would stay. Would tonight change anything? Would seeing Dev? The emotional turmoil he worried about reared its ugly head. Dev would not be permanent; tonight would be a fleeting moment at best. Here,now, Issac in front of him, looking lovingly at him, lips begging for more attention, was a world of new possibilities.
A future.
“It is. I want you to stay.”
Issac followed Schuyler as they walked through the cemetery. With time to kill, they opted to walk the entire way, going over the details once more as they did. Schuyler saw the spirits of the cemetery eyeing him cautiously. He offered sincere apologies to all who appeared as he passed, along with quiet thanks for their help. His anger, if left unchecked, could have caused severe damage to the serene and beautiful cemetery.
“What happened?” Issac asked curiously.
“Just keep walking,” Schuyler replied, nudging him on, making his apologies the entire way to Dev’s grave.
Issac unpacked the balls and shook the one containing the candles open. Two dozen black candles rolled onto the ground. Schuyler tested Issac on what commands to use to arrange and light them without lifting a finger; it was a test he thankfully passed. One which Issac passed as they all were lit and situated atop the headstone and around the grave within a minute’s time.
