Read Online Heart of the Witch by Alicia Dean - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alicia Dean
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witness our rites and to guard the circle. We have faith in thee. The circle is cast… the power of good unleashed."
The ritual ended, they doused the fire and the candles. In silence the coven members next walked through the trees at the back of the property and into Vanora's three-story red Tudor.
On the many evenings when Vanora entertained, the house was alight with blazing colors and the sounds of laughter and clanging dishes. Tonight it was still and silent and dimly lit. Tables holding miniature lamps and burning candles were scattered throughout the house and inset near the large bay windows.
Ravyn went upstairs and changed into her blouse and jeans. The coven members—who, on the surface, were simply normal citizens of the surrounding communities, working and living in various jobs—arrived and left in street clothes but donned the robes for the rituals, then left them at Vanora's home.
When Ravyn walked out of the bedroom, her mother was in the hall. Sucking in a breath, she turned her head and attempted to walk past, but Gwendyl was not to be deterred. She rushed over, halting Ravyn's escape.
"Ravyn, darling." A smile lit her beautiful face, which was so much like Sorina's, if older. "How are you? I've been so worried about you." She reached out her arms, but Ravyn didn't go into them.
"I'm fine, Mother."
Gwendyl's arms dropped and her smile faded. She nodded. "Well, good. You're tough." She didn't mean it as a compliment, and Ravyn didn't take it that way. "I know you'll be fine."
They stood awkwardly in the muted light of the hall. Ravyn wondered why the two of them even pretended to care about one another. There was too much between them. Too much hurt, too much anger. Ravyn supposed that just as she herself did, her mother pretended for Sorina's benefit.
Ravyn barely remembered her father; he'd died when she was six. But she remembered his kindness, his stability, as opposed to her mother's neuroses. She remembered that he liked to do magic tricks for her and Sorina—albeit magic tricks somewhat more elaborate than those of most fathers.
One time, he'd taken Ravyn and Sorina to the movies. Ravyn had been sitting next to him, her eyes glued to the screen. Her father had leaned over and whispered, "Watch this." His hands pointed toward the front of the theater, and the movie screen began to twirl in clockwise circles, round and round, faster and faster. The other moviegoers had gasped, and their voices had risen in confused murmurs. Ravyn's father had held his sides, laughing so hard he'd spit popcorn out of his mouth. It was a memory Ravyn cherished, because it was one of the last she had of him. Her father had died a few months later.
Ravyn and Sorina's home life after that had been hell.
Her mother had never cared for her children, only about the current man in her life.
A door opened down the hallway, and Vanora came out of a bedroom and approached. "Ravyn, could I please speak with you for a moment?" she asked.
Ravyn's heartbeat stalled. While she was relieved by the excuse to escape her mother, she was gravely concerned about Vanora's wanting to see her. Now she would find out the reason for the meeting of the elders.
She nodded and made her way into Vanora's office, waiting while the coven's high priestess took a seat behind the large mahogany desk in the middle of the room. Ravyn took the seat across from her.
Vanora's face was ageless and unlined, although she was pushing seventy. Her fiery red hair was swept into an updo. Her lips were almost the same shade. Though her features were somewhat cold, she herself was not. Ravyn had been the recipient of the woman's warmth and kindness several times over the years.
"There was something amiss this evening," Vanora stated, her gaze shrewd and unwavering.
"Yes?"
"The circle was weak. You know we need everyone's full attention, their energy, for our work to be successful."
Ravyn nodded. For the first time, she hadn't been sure she wanted
The ritual ended, they doused the fire and the candles. In silence the coven members next walked through the trees at the back of the property and into Vanora's three-story red Tudor.
On the many evenings when Vanora entertained, the house was alight with blazing colors and the sounds of laughter and clanging dishes. Tonight it was still and silent and dimly lit. Tables holding miniature lamps and burning candles were scattered throughout the house and inset near the large bay windows.
Ravyn went upstairs and changed into her blouse and jeans. The coven members—who, on the surface, were simply normal citizens of the surrounding communities, working and living in various jobs—arrived and left in street clothes but donned the robes for the rituals, then left them at Vanora's home.
When Ravyn walked out of the bedroom, her mother was in the hall. Sucking in a breath, she turned her head and attempted to walk past, but Gwendyl was not to be deterred. She rushed over, halting Ravyn's escape.
"Ravyn, darling." A smile lit her beautiful face, which was so much like Sorina's, if older. "How are you? I've been so worried about you." She reached out her arms, but Ravyn didn't go into them.
"I'm fine, Mother."
Gwendyl's arms dropped and her smile faded. She nodded. "Well, good. You're tough." She didn't mean it as a compliment, and Ravyn didn't take it that way. "I know you'll be fine."
They stood awkwardly in the muted light of the hall. Ravyn wondered why the two of them even pretended to care about one another. There was too much between them. Too much hurt, too much anger. Ravyn supposed that just as she herself did, her mother pretended for Sorina's benefit.
Ravyn barely remembered her father; he'd died when she was six. But she remembered his kindness, his stability, as opposed to her mother's neuroses. She remembered that he liked to do magic tricks for her and Sorina—albeit magic tricks somewhat more elaborate than those of most fathers.
One time, he'd taken Ravyn and Sorina to the movies. Ravyn had been sitting next to him, her eyes glued to the screen. Her father had leaned over and whispered, "Watch this." His hands pointed toward the front of the theater, and the movie screen began to twirl in clockwise circles, round and round, faster and faster. The other moviegoers had gasped, and their voices had risen in confused murmurs. Ravyn's father had held his sides, laughing so hard he'd spit popcorn out of his mouth. It was a memory Ravyn cherished, because it was one of the last she had of him. Her father had died a few months later.
Ravyn and Sorina's home life after that had been hell.
Her mother had never cared for her children, only about the current man in her life.
A door opened down the hallway, and Vanora came out of a bedroom and approached. "Ravyn, could I please speak with you for a moment?" she asked.
Ravyn's heartbeat stalled. While she was relieved by the excuse to escape her mother, she was gravely concerned about Vanora's wanting to see her. Now she would find out the reason for the meeting of the elders.
She nodded and made her way into Vanora's office, waiting while the coven's high priestess took a seat behind the large mahogany desk in the middle of the room. Ravyn took the seat across from her.
Vanora's face was ageless and unlined, although she was pushing seventy. Her fiery red hair was swept into an updo. Her lips were almost the same shade. Though her features were somewhat cold, she herself was not. Ravyn had been the recipient of the woman's warmth and kindness several times over the years.
"There was something amiss this evening," Vanora stated, her gaze shrewd and unwavering.
"Yes?"
"The circle was weak. You know we need everyone's full attention, their energy, for our work to be successful."
Ravyn nodded. For the first time, she hadn't been sure she wanted
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