Coven, p.4
Coven, page 4
“I need to go too, beautiful.” Dylan squatted down beside Sheridan and focused on her with those spectacular gray eyes. “I hope you enjoy the ritual tonight. For all of us, the Witches’ New Year is our most sacred night of the year in many ways, isn’t it? Alex also bought you a bottle of RumChata so you can toast your mother tonight, Sheridan.” Dylan’s face was compassionate, reflecting her understanding. Sheridan was touched. “Those of us in the inner circle would be more than honored if you’d allow us to celebrate her spirit with you after the ritual.”
The spirit of Fire filled her with a feeling of love and a powerful sense of rightness, guiding her to accept. “I’d like that,” Sheridan breathed softly, caught in Dylan’s powerful emotional web for a moment. She mentally shook herself, breaking the spell, and started to stand. “Your coven is waiting for you to begin, Number One.” Her voice was almost normal. Dylan stood and extended her hands to her to help her up.
When their hands joined and Dylan easily pulled her to her feet, Sheridan froze at the electric shock of connection that flooded her like a tsunami at Dylan’s touch. Dylan’s powerful essence immediately engulfed Sheridan then wrapped solidly around her entire body, sinking deeper and deeper into her soul until Sheridan felt it take permanent root there.
Dylan’s essence felt mystical and healing, encircling Sheridan in a protective band as if to guard her from anything that threatened her. As a further shock, Sheridan felt the passion and illumination of her own Fire essence consume Dylan in return, sinking deeply into Dylan’s soul to forge the same unbreakable bonds.
Stupefied, Sheridan was unable to move. This should have been impossible, but…Sheridan felt Dylan within her as keenly as if the Lord and the Lady had carved a thick slice of Dylan’s soul and planted it deep inside Sheridan. Dylan’s soul presence within Sheridan felt strong and protective, even as it sought to soothe Sheridan and make her feel safe.
She gulped in fear as she forced herself to ask Dylan the question she already knew the answer to. “What…what’s your primary element, Dylan?” Sheridan whispered, feeling like an earthquake had struck her. She knew she would be incapable of breaking the bond that had so rapidly solidified between them, even as powerful as she was. “Where does your life essence reside?”
Awestruck, Dylan held both of Sheridan’s hands gently, squeezing them as she sent a flood of love and warmth to Sheridan through their brand-new bond. Unable to help herself, Sheridan’s eyes fluttered as she leaned momentarily against Dylan’s solid body.
“I’m Water, Sheridan.” Dylan squeezed her hands again, a look of fierce protectiveness crossing her face. “Apparently, I’m also your mate.”
ɚωɚωɚωɚ
“Your mate is Water.” The words Fire had spoken to her on every birthday since the year she had turned eighteen kept pounding through Sheridan’s head as she paced the floor of her apartment. “One who carries the Sun sign of Water will be your mate,” Fire had said. Over and over and over again, those same words kept ringing in her ears until Sheridan felt like she couldn’t breathe.
It had been three days since the Samhain ritual at Alex’s house. Unable to slip out before the ritual had started, still reeling from the shocking revelation about Dylan, Sheridan had been forced to stand by the outer circle as Dylan and the rest of the inner circle started the Samhain ceremony. We are here, Dylan had told the entire coven when they began, to honor the ancestors and to celebrate the commencement of the dark half of the year.
Dylan, Sheridan had to admit, was a spellbinding coven leader. As the coven’s Witch Number One—or their “Portal,” Dylan had told her on their drive over—she was the undisputed principal of the group, the one who guarded the coven entrance, both physically and metaphysically, and monitored the comings and goings of all the members. Her responsibilities also included creating all the coven rituals then leading the witches through them at the appropriate times, in addition to overseeing conflict resolution when necessary.
The Coven of the New Moon, Dylan had informed her, has a structure that’s quite different from that of traditional covens, one that the Goddess and the God themselves have mandated. “I’ll tell you more about it after Samhain,” she’d promised. “It’s something the inner circle was guided to create when the Coven of the New Moon was born, and we find it’s been perfect for our magickal work and intentions.”
Despite her mental upset over what had happened between her and Dylan, Sheridan had been mesmerized by the strength and power of the coven’s Number One. Dylan’s blazing gray eyes and the resonance of her voice stretched across the inner and the outer circles as she’d welcomed the ancestors and ushered in the Witches’ New Year.
Drawing in a deep, almost disbelieving breath, Sheridan had watched in awe as Dylan—with a brief, focused spell—easily brushed aside the veil between the worlds. She’d felt the souls of those on the other side of the hedge in a way that she’d never felt them before. In her entire life, Sheridan had never seen anyone who was able to manipulate the veil that easily—including Selene, who was a damn powerful witch. The rest of the inner coven seemed focused on guarding the Earth realm’s portals into the other realms, for the brief time they were open.
“Beloved ancestors,” Dylan had intoned with mighty power infusing her voice, her black robe swirling as she lit the ritual candles within their protective glass sheaths. “Tonight, we welcome you. Tonight, we honor you. Tonight, we walk between the worlds, sharing this blessed circle with each other. Spirits of those who have gone on before us, we thank you for your guidance and protection always as we usher in the Witches’ New Year.”
Sheridan had felt both her soul and her life essence being pulled closer and closer to Dylan, the farther they had gotten into the ritual. Frightened, she’d fought against the seductive lure of their chemistry, almost ready to make a break for it even before the ritual was finished. As soon as the last Samhain blessing had been said and the circle had been opened, Sheridan had fled before anyone in the inner circle could stop her, breathing an enormous sigh of relief as she hurried home. Thankfully, Dylan’s power had lessened with every step she’d taken.
She’d been eternally grateful to the Lord God that her apartment was not a long walk from Alex’s house, and that she’d paid attention to where she was when Dylan had driven them earlier. Back inside her apartment in under thirty minutes, her insides churning, Sheridan was convinced she’d dodged a major bullet—although not fully understanding why.
The fierce look Dylan had given her when she’d pronounced Sheridan her mate, and the impossibly strong pull to Dylan that Sheridan had felt, had scared her. Dylan’s expression had held a combination of astonishment, wonder, relief, triumph, and gratitude—followed by a blistering desire Sheridan didn’t know how to handle.
She knew only one thing. After everything she’d been through with Fagan, there was no fucking way she was ever falling down that particular rabbit hole again.
ɚωɚωɚωɚ
When they’d first met, Sheridan had found Fagan funny and easygoing, and the two of them had had a lot of fun together. But, as Fagan’s fake charm had quickly faded, Sheridan had seen the narcissistic, manipulative, and selfish asshole Fagan truly was under the surface. Sheridan tried to convince herself she was mistaken, but—deep down inside—she’d known the indisputable truth because of Fire’s eighteenth birthday present to her.
She’d stayed with Fagan for far longer than she should have, caught up as she was in her mother’s care, and had tried to ignore Fagan’s frequent temper tantrums and threats when things didn’t go her way. Two weeks before Eileen’s death, as Sheridan was preparing herself for the end she knew was rapidly coming, Fagan had blown her top over a perceived slight by one of Eileen’s caregivers. Even with the death of Eileen imminent, Fagan had still been determined to make herself the center of attention.
Finally, exploding in rage and throwing Fagan out of the house, Sheridan had warned her she would end her if she ever saw her again in this lifetime. Fagan, realizing that she’d finally pushed Sheridan too far, had belatedly tried to backpedal, but Sheridan was having none of it.
“I have put up with you and your bullshit for far too long,” she’d gritted, her voice coated in ice, when Fagan had tried to call her. “You think you know what I can do, but I am here to tell you, motherfucker, you have only seen a fraction of what I can do. Stay the fuck out of my way, Fagan, because I am done with you. May the Lord and the Lady have mercy on your soul if I ever catch you anywhere near me again.”
That was the last time Sheridan had ever laid eyes on Fagan Tempest. She’d immediately boxed up all of Fagan’s belongings and had them shipped to Fagan’s sister, then blocked Fagan’s phone number and put the whole sordid memory behind her. The damage to Sheridan’s ability to have a caring and stable relationship, however, had been done. The thought of ever getting intimately involved with another butch had caused Sheridan to slam her mental doors shut with a vengeance.
That night, Sheridan had slept fitfully on her new bed with Oracle curled up beside her, trying unsuccessfully to keep the vision of a strong, handsome butch with a penetrating gray gaze from invading her dreams. There was so much about Dylan Bellamy that drew her—but there was no way Sheridan would ever take a chance on another butch again after everything that had happened with Fagan.
Maybe neither of them had truly had a choice with the way the Lord and the Lady had thrown them together, Sheridan had fretted as she lay in her bed, but she wasn’t going to roll over and let herself be manipulated again—by human or by spirit. She also knew she needed to get some sleep before she decided what she was going to do next.
There had been a knock on her door early the next morning, which Sheridan had ignored. It was repeated three more times throughout the day, all of which she’d continued to pretend she hadn’t heard as she curled up on her new couch with Oracle in her lap, thinking. “Oh, Oracle,” she’d breathed out in sorrow as she held her small cat to her and tried to ignore the tears that had started to roll down her face. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry, little girl.
“I can’t take the risk that Dylan is just like Fagan, too. Fagan also seemed fun and easygoing at first, but you don’t know the nightmare she turned out to be.” Sheridan’s voice had hitched. “I need to keep us safe, honey, and trusting a handsome, charming butch who’s convinced I’m her fated mate isn’t the way to do that. Plus,” Sheridan had gulped, “Fagan didn’t have much magick, but Dylan Bellamy does. You can tell she’s powerful and dangerous, Oracle, and I can’t take the risk that she’s the wrong kind of dangerous. Especially when it comes to protecting the two of us.”
When she’d gotten home the previous night, Sheridan had blocked Dylan’s phone number so Dylan could no longer call or text her. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she could do about the persistent knocking at her door. It was heartbreaking, but Sheridan had finally concluded that there was no way she could stay in Isla del Mar—especially in this particular building and in such close proximity to Dylan. The life essence threads that bound them together still held strong, and Sheridan was afraid she would eventually lose her independence and sense of self if she stayed.
Shedding tears of loss at the thought of leaving, she’d then consoled herself by promising her spirit she would take another look at her original first choice—Savannah. Because Isla del Mar had mysteriously popped up out of the blue and landed square on her radar, Sheridan had impulsively decided this would be the place where she’d make her new home instead—convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Lord and the Lady had led her here. Clearly, she had made a grave error and was now wondering if she’d put herself and her kitten in danger as a result.
“And that’s where the spontaneity of a Fire sign can fuck you over sometimes, bitch,” she’d chastised herself. “You should have stuck with Savannah, and you could have avoided this whole fucking mess in the first place.” Spending some time on her laptop, she’d created a driving route from Isla del Mar to Savannah, and tried to ignore the pain in her heart as she worked.
Sheridan called and left a message for the management company of her apartment, saying she was sorry, but something had come up and she had to move back to Youngstown unexpectedly. What penalty would she owe them for breaking her lease? In the message, she had also informed them she had to leave fairly quickly, so if someone would call her back as soon as possible, she would appreciate it. Even though Sheridan would actually be moving to Savannah instead of going back to Youngstown, she had no intention of telling them that, just in case someone at the management company ever talked to Dylan about her.
The pattern repeated itself over the next several days. Sheridan was grateful she’d gone grocery shopping after her new furniture had been delivered because she was too afraid to step foot outside her apartment, worried she would run into Dylan. Thankfully, the knocking at her front door had diminished as time went on.
Spending the time holed up in her apartment, packing some of her new furnishings, she was thankful she still had a bunch of cardboard boxes she’d already broken down but hadn’t had time to get rid of yet. As she slowly dismantled her beautiful apartment, she cried almost non-stop, wondering if she’d ever felt this kind of loss and pain before.
“Losing Mama was different, Oracle.” Sheridan kept wiping her constantly streaming eyes with one of her shirt sleeves as she worked. Oracle sat solemnly on the kitchen counter, listening. “When she died, I was so incredibly heartbroken, but…deep down inside, there was peace too, because I knew she wasn’t in pain anymore. But this?”
Sheridan braced her hands on the countertop next to Oracle and bent forward until her forehead rested on her hands. “This apartment felt like home from the moment I first walked in the door. Everything we’ve done—from the paint to the furniture to the kitchenware and beyond—has felt so right. I’ve never had a sense of home like I’ve had here. However, I don’t have a choice.” The anguish in Sheridan’s voice was raw. “I have to leave to keep us both safe…and I’ll be honest with you, little girl. There’s a part of me that wonders if I’m going to survive the loss.”
Planning to pack a bag with just the essentials to bring with her to Savannah, she would hire local movers to finish packing up her apartment and move the rest of her belongings after she’d found a new apartment in Georgia. She’d paid three months’ rent here in Isla del Mar already, so she didn’t have to worry about rushing to vacate the premises. Nonetheless, Sheridan was sure they would want to re-rent it as quickly as possible and she didn’t want to be the reason for any delays.
Looking around her cozy apartment with more painful regret, her heart felt like it was shredding from the inside out. The apartment hadn’t been completely finished—Sheridan hadn’t had the opportunity to work on her front porch space—but she felt her heart break more and more at the thought of leaving. Despite her heartbreak, she was positive she didn’t have a choice if she wanted to keep her freedom and peaceful life.
By the third day, Sheridan was beyond aggravated. She was all ready to go, except she couldn’t get the goddamn management company for this building to call her back—although she’d called them and left them a message several times a day over the last few days. Throwing her hands up in disgust, the raw emotion of the past few days finally took its toll.
“Assholes,” she muttered irately. “Fuck them then, they can just fight me for breaking my lease. I need to go, and I don’t have time for this bullshit.” Sheridan decided she would get everything ready and then sneak out of the apartment at two a.m.
She spent the rest of that day preparing for her departure, first cleaning out her refrigerator and throwing anything perishable away. Packing the rest of the dry and canned goods in the kitchen and putting them in a box of their own, she made sure they were well sealed. Then she meticulously packed her crystals, candles, oils, and herbs, dismantling and packing up her altar, carefully wrapping the few hardback books still in her possession. She wasn’t going to take any of it with her, but she wanted to make sure everything was securely packed and ready for the moving company when she finally hired one.
With a pain she’d never, ever felt before in her heart and more bitter tears falling, she prayed to Fire as she worked, asking for her protection and love, until she finally finished everything in the early evening hours. Knowing she would be leaving in the middle of the night, she tried to lay down for a few hours in the hopes of getting some rest, but there didn’t seem to be much else she could do other than lay there with her red, swollen eyes wide open.
When the time came for her to leave, Sheridan slung her overnight bag and her purse over her shoulder, picked up Oracle’s small pet carrier with her other hand and, with one final tearful look, silently let herself out of the apartment, hoping and praying Oracle stayed silent. As she pulled the front door shut quietly, locking it behind her, and turned to creep down the apartment stairs, she heard a low voice come out of the darkness from Dylan’s front porch.
“You know,” the rich voice was mellow, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman try to avoid me as hard as you have over the past several days.”
Sheridan gasped in fright and froze as a tall figure detached itself from the shadows. Dylan Bellamy came toward her then paused about six feet away, as if trying not to frighten her. She cut immediately to the chase. “What happened, Sheridan?” Dylan asked in a gentle tone. “One minute we’re fine, the next minute you’re in the wind and I catch you trying to sneak out of your apartment in the middle of the night to leave. Permanently, I’d guess. I don’t understand why you felt you needed to do this.”
“I am not your mate,” Sheridan burst out abruptly. She clenched Oracle’s pet carrier with white knuckles. “I can’t live next door to someone who has these types of delusions, Dylan. I’ve already survived one butch who had dangerous delusions, and I swore I would never put myself in that kind of a position again.”
