Page 58 of The Soulless Witch

“Samara, you don’t want to be expelled from the room tonight of all nights. Calm yourself,” Mariam said in a warning, and the other woman released her magic almost instantly. I narrowed my eyes, looking between the two. They were from different Covens, but they looked to be quite close. And Samara, Regina’s second if I got Roman’s hint right, listened to another witch much below her station. Or was she? Just who was Mariam? And why was Samara so angry?

“Samara, is it?” I said, and she tore her eyes away from Roman. “Do I know you?”

That seemed to surprise her because she blinked, the anger slipping away for an instant. And indeed she did look familiar, but just like Mariam, I couldn’t quite put my finger on where I had seen her before. She had to be a descendant of someone I knew; she was too young to have been alive before I died.

“None of your business,” she spat, turning toward Castle and tugging her hand. “Let’s go.”

Mariam gave me an apologetic smile over her shoulder, but allowed the other woman to drag her away. The crowd swallowed them as if to protect them from us.

“Well, that was interesting.” I huffed a laugh, crossing my arms. “Was that Regina’s daughter?”

“Not exactly,” Roman replied, his hand sliding to the small of my back. “According to my sources, about a decade ago, Samara was attacked and manifested her magic, demolishing almost an entire street and killing a dozen people. The girl had lost her memories, so she couldn’t remember who she was or where she was from. Regina took her in and trained her, honing her power and naming her a successor.”

“Hmm,” I murmured, switching my attention to the altar of the Hallowed Goddess where witches had started to gather. “She felt quite strong, stronger than most witches her age.”

“Why else do you think Regina took her?” Roman shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she erased any traces of her existence in the human world in order to keep her. Witches would do just about anything for power, including stealing children.” I frowned but didn’t argue. It wasn’t that he was wrong, but sometimes he forgot I was one of those witches.

“What about the other one, Mariam Castle? Do you know anything about her?”

“Only that you are wary of her.” Roman’s eyes bore into me even harder, but I kept my gaze forward, watching as three witches in ceremonial robes stepped into the pentagram, each standing at one of the points until they formed a perfect triangle. A fourth woman followed, striding toward the statue of the Goddess.

Roman continued to stare at me for a few more seconds. After realizing he wouldn’t get an answer, switched his attention to the witches.

The three had kneeled on the floor, setting down the objects they were carrying in front of them. The woman in the center turned, and almost immediately, Regina’s eyes locked on me over the black candle she was holding. A blue flame flickered on its wick and as one, the other women waved their hands, lighting up theirs.

“Maiden, Mother, Crone divine, Three as one, Mistresses of time. With open hearts and spirits bright, We honor you on this sacred night,” Regina recited, her voice loud and clear, as if enhanced by the magic that was oozing from her in powerful waves. The hall lit up, the quiet that had swallowed the place now broken by hundreds of voices reciting the same words with bated breaths.

“Maiden fair, vessel of youth, Bring us joy, bring us truth. Guide us on paths of wonder and delight, As we embrace the Maiden’s vibrant light,” Regina continued and the first witch got up—a young girl, barely a woman—taking off the flower crown she was wearing on her head and placing it at the feet of the Goddess. Regina waited until the girl took her place before continuing.

“Mother Divine, nurturing and strong, In your embrace we all belong. Bless us with love, abundance, and care, As we honor the Mother’s presence rare.” The second kneeling woman got up, swaying slightly as her protruding belly pulled her forward. She looked ready to give birth, but she determinedly strode to the statue, kneeling at its feet and setting down an overflowing basket of fresh, ripe fruit. She muttered the words, then went back to her place, her belly touching the ground as she bowed.

“Crone wise, with depths unbound, Your wisdom and guidance we seek to know. Grant us insight, power, and release, As we welcome the Crone's eternal peace.”The third woman rose on shaky feet, her gray hair falling limply over her face as she carried an ancient-looking book, setting it down at the feet of the Goddess.

Regina watched her limp back to her place and as she knelt, the Head Witch turned to face her Coven and all the other attending witches. I felt my heartbeat quicken as a strange sense of elation filled my chest. Roman’s hand pressed harder against my back as if to ground me, but I couldn’t look away from her.

“Hallowed Goddess, we call to thee, Maiden, Mother, and Crone, we hope to see. In harmony, your powers entwine, Bestow your blessings upon us, as your light shines,” Regina finished with a bow to the statue. She set her candle next to the other offerings, slipped something from her pocket, and raised it above her head. The light from the candles slid over its surface before she ran the blade over her palm. Blood dripped from the gash, sprinkling the offerings with crimson.

A burst of energy shot from Regina and a few people gasped as her magic swept across the room, making the hair at the back of my neck rise. I watched as the witches at the front wobbled, a tiny spark leaving their bodies and sliding toward the Head Witch. More and more balls of light followed, their owners looking at their magic with longing, but none resisted the call.

Except for me.

Regina’s magic slid over my body, reaching deep into my core and calling for my power to leave, to go to her. I snapped my mental wards into place before even a drop obeyed the beckon. I couldn’t let her have the little I’d saved, much less realize how spent I was. I’d rather be called a blasphemer than weak.

I knew this was part of the ritual—the sacrifice we made each year to honor the Goddess that gave us our magic in the first place—but it still unsettled me to see all that power flooding into her, making her glow like she was the Goddess herself.

“What is she doing?” Roman asked so quietly, I barely caught the words. I had forgotten he was there with me, but seeing his tense face made me roll my shoulders back in an attempt to relieve the tension. “Is she stealing their magic?”

“No,” I replied, glancing at the women around us as they whispered prayers to the Goddess, begging for their gift to be accepted and their wishes granted. “It’s all willingly given.”

The magic that had gathered in the Head Witch burst outward, charging the entire room as sparks flew in the air and light danced around the ceiling, creating a breathtaking view of colors and forms that no human hand could ever hope to replicate. Witches cheered and gasped, raising their hands up, as if to catch some of the magic while it descended toward the floor like bright snowflakes.

Regina lowered her arms, swaying on her feet before stepping out of the pentagram. Samara rushed to her side, catching her injured hand and whispering a few words. Soft, orange light enveloped the older woman’s palm, and the cut closed almost instantly. Samara wrapped a handkerchief around it, rubbing the blood away, but Regina dismissed her with a wave of her fingers.

The witches moved to give their respects, but stopped as they noticed where Regina was headed. The Head Witch of the Coven of the Hallowed Goddess strode my way, the skirts of her robe flowing around her as if some invisible wind pushed them out of her way. I held her gaze, trying to keep my relaxed posture.

“You came,” Regina spoke as she stopped a few steps away from me. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she looked over my shoulder. “Roman. I was not aware that vampires were interested in Samhain.”

“They are not,” he replied with a smile that was even colder than Regina’s. “But we are interested in witches.”

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