Sacred Circle (2 page)

Brianna heard movement by her chair and glanced quickly to her right. Great. Now she would have to endure a character-shredding lecture from Devlin. She watched as he slumped back in the chair, with a guarded look.

“I want to tell you something, Brianna . . .” he finally muttered.

“Leave me alone,” she exclaimed, jumping from her chair and moving to a vacant chair on the other side of the room. She sprawled out and went back to her brooding. If she had to hear one more sermon about witches who betrayed their heritage, she'd scream. Didn't anyone realize she knew how bad she had acted? How reckless she had been? No one could berate her harder than her own conscience.

She heard movement again, and when she glanced up, she found Devlin towering over her, his shoulders hunched and his hands tucked into his front jean pockets.

“You need to listen . . .”

The waiting room door slammed open, cutting off his sentence and startling the pair. Devlin whirled first, while Brianna bolted to her feet, an eager expression coating her face. The look died immediately as she recognized the lanky figure of Francis Lord poised in the doorway. She plopped back down in her seat, trying to ignore the rising energy level in the room. Francis' anger was palpable. She could feel it saturating the walls and furniture, and even the air around her.

Spotting her wilting posture, Francis charged across the space. He stopped in front of her chair, his lips curling to a sneer.

“You just had to show off, didn't you? Prove to Brenda and Sally how superior your skills are to theirs.”

Brianna fidgeted in the chair, tears trembling on her eyelids.

“Leave me alone, Francis. I can't bear another lecture right now.”

His eyes blazed amber fire.

“You don't get it, do you? You constructed a ritual in secret; and worse, you constructed it on unconsecrated ground.”

Devlin pulled alongside Francis, gripping his shoulder.

“Take it easy, Francis. Can't you see Brianna feels bad enough already?”

Francis knocked Devlin's hand from his shoulder.

“Don't tell me to take it easy. It isn't your girlfriend who's fighting for her life in there.”

“No, and it isn't yours either!”

Francis flinched at the slur, and then losing his temper, he shoved Devlin hard. Devlin stumbled back, careening into a chair and sliding it sideways. He was on his feet quickly, lunging forward and grappling with Francis.

Brianna watched in horror as the pair locked arms and wrestled angrily. Hearing the sound of a fist clobbering jaw, she jumped to her feet.

“Stop it, both of you! Your insults are maddening.”

The pair tore apart, chests heaving, glaring at each other with unbridled fury.

“What's going on here?”

The sharp question had the trio spinning around rapidly. Spotting her father and mother positioned in the doorway, Brianna took a step forward, a wobble in her voice.

“How's Brenda? Is she okay?”

Her father moved into the room with a determined stride, and Brianna knew the news was not good.
Something bad is coming
, her inner voice repeated. She bit her lip as her father stopped just short of the trio.

“Brenda died about fifteen minutes ago,” he said, quietly.

Brianna fumbled for a chair and sank down. Brenda dead! Shocked, Francis emitted a sob and tore from the room. He bumped into the group hovering in the doorway and pushed by their shoulders with careless defiance. Devlin sank to a chair, silent and defeated.

Charles Sage studied the bowed heads and defeated postures.

“I'm so sorry, Papa,” Brianna whispered, raising her head. “I don't know why this happened.”

Her father's voice held an odd twinge of disappointment.

“You constructed an unsacred circle on unhallowed ground without permission; that's how it happened. You have shamed your heritage, as no other hereditary witch has ever done.”

Brianna's tears choked her.

“I'm so sorry.”

Her mother settled alongside her father, taking charge of the conversation.

“The laws are specific here in the coven, Brianna, and it pains me to be the bearer of bad tidings. However, what you've done—the Dark Time you've caused—cannot be overlooked. We live by the creed of harming none, as you well know.” She signaled over her shoulder. “The Council has voted unanimously to banish you from the community for your sin.”

Brianna's head shot up. Banish!?

“Mother, I . . .”

Her mother held up her hand.

“The vote has been decided, and it cannot be undone. You must leave the coven.”

Devlin hopped to his feet.

“It's my fault, Mrs. Sage. I knew what Brianna was set on doing and I didn't stop her. In fact, I helped her construct the circle. If anyone needs to be banished from the coven, it's me.”

Her words were clipped.

“You
are
being banished.” Shocked, Devlin fell back in his chair, listening to her further recriminations. “Your behavior in all this has been disappointing . . . reprehensible, really. The Council is in agreement that you can no longer be trusted. You will pack your suitcases and leave the coven immediately.” Her gaze darted back to Brianna, and for the first time, her voice broke miserably. “Your father and I l-l-love you very much, and we shall always wonder where you are and what you're doing. Though we will be forever apart, we will send our loving thoughts to you, and pray for you each and every d-d-day.” She broke off speaking, seeking a hankie from her skirt pocket, and blowing her nose with it. Composing herself, she gave Brianna one final glance. “Blessed be, dear.” She whirled around, and then unable to stop herself, she re-whirled and met Brianna as she hopped from her chair and flung herself into her mother's arms.

“I love you, Mother,” she bawled. “I love you!” Her sobs shattered the room and, hearing them, her father encased her and her mother in a tight bear hug. Brianna's face tucked into his chest. “I love you, Papa.”

“And I you, daughter. Blessed be!”

The pair released Brianna and then joined the somber group waiting at the door. En masse, they exited the room, leaving an anguished silence behind them. Bereft, Brianna backed up and dropped into a chair, losing herself to a dark despair.

Beside her, Devlin stirred.

“We'll go together. I'll get a job; I'll protect you . . .”

Appalled by his words, Brianna sprang to her feet and rounded on him.

“Leave together?! I'd rather eat a bag of dirt than go anywhere with you!”

He ignored her insult.

“Your parents will marry us. I'm eighteen, you're seventeen . . .”

Revolted by such a horrid thought, she responded sharply.

“Marry you?! I wouldn't marry you if you were the only man left on Earth! I'd rather rot in hell! No,” she railed, “I'd rather you rot in hell!”

She whirled on her toes, determined to put as much distance between her and Devlin. Marry him? Not if her life depended on it! Skirting the open doorway, she marched down the hallway. Get married and spend the rest of her life with Devlin. He was a slime ball for even suggesting such a thing.

Hacking coughs split the air, followed by a series of raspy moans. A second later, a loud sneeze bounced off the green walls of the room. Fumbling in her jacket pocket, Brianna pulled a tissue out, and swiped her runny nose. This cold was getting the best of her, and she wished with every fiber of her being that her spirit guides would whisk her away to some tropical island where they never heard of burning lungs and clogged nasal passages.

She dropped her forehead to the desk, and gave into a second set of coughs. If she ever learned who had given her this nasty virus, she would place a curse on their head that couldn't be reversed. Her office door creaked and Brianna realized her assistant, Janet, was responding to her lacerated coughs. She took a deep breath, willing herself to shore up her energy. A strange rattling in her lungs made her clutch her chest again, and all thoughts of making conversation fled into a graveyard of dead sentences. She hated being sick. It was a tremendous drain on her system. And to make matters worse, she was becoming light-headed. If she didn't know better, she'd think something bad was in the wind.

“That cough could use a little Wiccan magic, blue eyes.”

The voice was raspy and deep, and Brianna's head snapped up at the statement. She studied the chubby figure crossing the door frame, and voiced her surprise.

“Good heavens, Tommy, who told you I was sick?”

“I have my sources.” He approached her desk, studying her cracked lips and ruby-red nose. “I warned you not to travel at this time of year. Perhaps now, you'll listen to me.” Her laugh turned into spastic coughs, as Tommy dropped into a chair across the desk from her. He plopped his briefcase on the edge of her desk, and slid back in his chair. “Well, let's get to the point while you still have breath to speak with. Do we have a deal or not?”

Brianna dabbed at her dripping nose.

“Not—and he wouldn't say why, damn him!”

“Probably doesn't like doing business with witches.” Tommy teased.

Brianna frowned at his words.

“Don't make me sorry I told you about my background when we became partners, Tommy. And for your information, the coven I grew up in frowns on using magic to manipulate people for one's personal gain.”

“Too bad. You could use a magical make-over right now. Your hair is a mess, your mascara is flaking, and your tall frame is hunched over like Quasimodo.”

Brianna raised a hand to her hair, brushing a stray tendril behind her ear.

“Don't be shy, Tommy. Tell me what you really think.”

“Don't make jokes. When you're unwell, I take it very seriously.”

“That's because I'm rarely ill.” She stifled a pressing sniffle, and tossed her tissue into the trash can under her desk. A light chuckle sounded as Tommy crossed his legs, and fidgeted with the seam of his trousers.

“I warned you to take your time with this buyout. There is no hurry to liquidate all of your assets at once just because you've decided to make major changes in your lifestyle. Hurried choices can be disastrous, you know.”

Hearing his words, Brianna shivered. A moment later, the air around her head stirred, and she glanced up. There it was again—the feeling that something was brewing in the wind. Was spirit attempting to warn her she should be on her guard? Or was she being warned it was much too late to worry? She heard the loud mewl of a cat's cry in her ears, and drew in her breath. There. That disturbance was definitely a ripple of something sinister. Where had the cry come from? Janet's office?

Strong hands gripped her fingers, startling her.

“Here now, what's wrong? You've gone completely white.”

“Did you hear it?” Brianna queried.

“Hear what?”

“A cat crying. It sounds hungry—or in pain.”

“I didn't hear anything. Are you sure you heard a cat?”

“I heard a cat, dammit!”

A hand waved in front of her face.

“Hey, don't bite my head off. I'm no warlock with super-sonic hearing, you know.”

Brianna grimaced, clutching his hand.

“Don't humor me, Tommy. I have a feeling something's wrong.”

His expression turned serious.

“I'll have Janet call maintenance to check the nearby offices.”

He sprang from his chair and exited the room, leaving Brianna to bite her lip in frustration. Why had she snapped at Tommy? He was her best friend, and his friendship meant everything to her. Besides, cat cries just didn't dance on the wind, no matter how real they sounded. She was ill, and the cries were just figments of her sick body.

Tossing back her shoulders, she made a face at the painting on her wall. She may have heard a cat crying, but without knowing the source, there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She felt a light touch on the side of her cheek, and jumped.

“You're spicy hot,” Tommy stated. “That's not a good sign. Fevers often cause hallucinations.”

“I am not hallucinating, Tommy, I heard a cat . . . no, don't say anymore. I know it sounds crazy.”

“Damned crazy,” he muttered.

“Well, it wouldn't be the first time I've been called crazy, so sit down, and stop worrying about me.”

“I can't help it. You're the most rational person I know—next to me—and if you're hearing cats that aren't there, there is great cause for worry.”

“It's more than being sick, Tommy.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that I have this feeling of dread that I can't shake—as if someone has just died.”

Tommy angled around the desk, and retook his former seat.

“You're on overload—too much work, and too little sleep, and for what? Why are you pushing things at such a breakneck speed?”

Brianna didn't answer right away. She could tell Tommy the truth—that she had been feeling a disturbance somewhere in the fabric of time for months, and was worried by it. He would understand her fears. After all, they had no secrets from one another. He might be a man of art and science, but he had added the power of magic to his vocabulary since meeting her.

Still, she didn't want to involve him in her childish fears unless she had to. If only she didn't sense that the disturbance concerned him in some way. She could feel it pulling both of them towards the past, instead of the future. And worse, she felt herself being dragged back—towards old relationships that she had vowed to keep buried forever. Besides, she shouldn't be able to gauge energy levels anymore. Yet, she could feel the energy in the room around her as if she had conjured up a cone of power, complete with the Guardians of the Watch Tower. No, she stopped her thoughts. She had no intention of revisiting that kind of pain ever again. Not for anyone. She gave a tired sigh.