Page 24 of The Bairwick Witches
I swear—you and I are going to have words when this is over.
Schuyler retrieved his phone from his pocket. To his surprise, Issac replied instantly to his text. Within a minute of conversation, Schuyler ported himself to Issac’s room. He appeared next to the fireplace across from the bed where Issac sat, wearing a white tank top and underwear, a bowl of brightly colored Mike and Ike candies in his lap.
“Hi,” Schuyler announced sheepishly.
“Hello,” Issac replied sweetly.
“I need to apologize for my attitude earlier. None of that was about you, like at all. That was all my shit, and I’m sorry.” Schuyler rushed his apology out; if Issac didn’t want his help or to see him anymore, at least he’d said his piece.
“No worries. You were right, if that helps any. I wasn’t taking your lessons as seriously as I should have.” Issac set the candy bowl down and stood up, though he stayed near the bed. Schuyler remained across from him.
“I figured you’d be out somewhere tonight, living up the witchy fun.”
“I went out after you left,” Issac admitted, “to the library.”
Schuyler’s heart did somersaults.
Did he say ‘library’—could there be anything more swoon-worthy?
“You did?”
Issac motioned to the bed, where Schuyler noticed several books scattered on the comforter. One of them was open, next to a notebook where Issac had scribbled notes. He restrained himself from leaping across the room, scooping Issac up in his arms, and kissing him.
Issac casually shrugged as if the gesture meant nothing, but Schuyler noticed the sly smile. “You might have been dealing with your stuff today, but I didn’t help the situation by acting the way I did. The reality of everything we talked about at lunch broke the fantasy I was living in. I really enjoyed spending today with you, and then lunch made everything messy.
“And you weren’t wrong. I do need to know what I’m doing if I want to feel connected to Uncle Yannif and perform his spell. There’s a lot about this place I don’t understand and shouldn’t assume. I’m very grateful you’re helping me. So, I’m sorry too.”
“Thank you for that.” Schuyler found himself elated at hearing Issac had also enjoyed their day. His worries were washed away.
Issac walked over to him, grabbed his waist, and pulled Schuyler in toward him. “Fuck me,” he whispered in Schuyler’s ear. “No magic, no fancy tongue, just you and me.”
Chapter Ten
The two languished in bed throughout the morning, kissing, cuddling, talking. The sex the night before—vigorous and satisfying. The hunger for more remained but they restrained themselves, more interested in teasing each other.
Between their plans for the day, which were minimal, and what they wanted to do to each other’s bodies, they focused on the spell. Though Issac remained quiet on a lot of the details, which Schuyler respected, he shared the three items he’d deciphered from the Veilcrix. The first:La Medianoche del Diablo.
“The Devil’s Midnight,” Schuyler translated. “I’ve not heard of that, but I know someone who could help us.” He realized that could be a trip which would give Issac a big dose of witchy fun. “I think first, though, you need a history lesson.”
Schuyler rolled him over, sliding the young man face down until his rear was against Sky’s stomach. Issac’s legs rested on either side of Schuyler, who reached forward and rubbed the back of Issac’s head.
“Reflecte Praeteritum.”
He began to massage Issac’s head. Shimmering, rainbow-colored energy sparked from his fingers as he repeated the incantation; the energy grew stronger as he did, sparking and bubbling into ribbons which sunk through the curls of Issac’s hair and past the scalp.
Within his mind’s eye, the young man’s thoughts drifted away, and he saw only a blank, deep black chalkboard. Upon it, the holographic rainbow energy, like chalk, scribbled across the board with the flow of an ink pen, illustrating in picturesque detail everything Schuyler described.
“Once upon a time… well in this case 1826, a small coven of three witches—Siphen, Xenio, and Enos—began to dream about a lush field next to a lake, one they’d never seen in life. And every night, the field with its high grass and the blue water of the lake called out to them.
“Around a large bonfire, they performed rituals, sat with the ancestors, and sought the answer to the mystery in their dreams. The coven left New England one early spring morning, with no knowledge of their destination.”
Schuyler’s hand ran gently over Issac’s body, massaging him as he spoke.
“Months into their journey, they found themselves on the northern shore of Lake Arrawana, which of course, a bunch of white men later renamed Lake Never—but I digress. There, they found a group of settlers, happily absent of religious authority, and who were venturing to the western side of the lake looking for a new home. The coven compensated them handsomely and joined the expedition.
“On the western shore, the coven found the field they’d been dreaming about in an area which contained everything required for a settlement: fields for farming, a river fed by far offmountains leading into the lake, and thick forests to protect. A discovery that was the first of many.
“On their first night, they built a bonfire to celebrate, and as they performed their rituals of drums and dance, they learned why the land had called to them. Their connection to the Goddesses, to the Mother, to the source of all Magic, whatever you wish to call it, was purest there, giving all witches a boost, but elevating Natural Witches to their full potential.
