Under The Cover of Wicca

Under The Cover of Wicca

Written by Darke Conteur

Copyright 2012 Dark Conteur Collection of Works

Smashwords Edition

For more information on the author,

Please visit

www.wordpress/darkeconteur.com

Special Thanks to:

Calista Taylor for the cover design.

Karen Lawson for editing services.

Background by NebelDarkened on Deviantart http://nebeldarkened.deviantart.com/

The brushes are by ObsidianDawn.com

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Chapter One

Nothing says solitary like an old cemetery.

The cold feel of the tombstone felt good against Janet Weiss’ skin, as she leaned back against the black marble pillar and stared up at the night sky. A few constellations shone above her; the Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt, but the light from the downtown core blocked out anything beyond that. Not being able to see a full sky of stars was disappointing, but at least she didn’t hear the traffic anymore. This late at night, just the odd car horn and maybe a bus could be heard off in the distance.

She sat up and opened the black cloth bag by her legs. The pentagram emblem sewn on the front was barely visible in the sparse moonlight, but she sensed it was there, protecting her things. She didn’t care what the assholes at school said. There was power in this symbol. She felt it every time she drew it. That had to mean something.

She pulled out a white tapered candle and a black votive, along with a worn picture of a middle-aged woman, and placed them gently down on the grass. The clank of metal on metal echoed in the stillness as she removed a gold plated incense holder and snuffer, and laid them next to the photo. She arranged the candles in front of the picture and placed the holder in between, then sat crossed-legged, lit the candles, and closed her eyes.

I call upon the spirit of my mother, Emily Denise Weiss, she whispered into the darkness. I ask that she be with me now.

The breeze played with her hair. It swirled around her, warm and inviting, not the cold chill she hoped would be a sign that she was not alone. Janet opened her eyes and took a quick look around. Nothing but tombstones, grave markers and trees. Nothing that looked like it belonged in the spirit world.

She closed her eyes again. I call upon the spirit of my mother, Emily Denise Weiss. I ask that she be with me now.

A strong breeze whipped through her hair, and the candles flickered. Janet opened her eyes and cupped her hands around a flame to keep them from going out. Still no sign of a ghostly apparition.

She picked up the picture and ran her finger along the image of the woman. Why isn’t this working? Why don’t you come when I call?

In the distance, a spark of light caught her attention. It hovered in the air a few feet above the ground. Janet’s heart raced as the light flickered and bounced. The spell really did work!

She glanced down at the picture as her eyes clouded over with tears. I knew you would show up!

Janet stood and watched as the light slowly moved forward. This was it! She’d been waiting for this moment since reading the incantation in that old book! She would see her mother again. Something everyone told her was impossible. What did they know? She knew she was special, and she knew this would work.

Then another small light appeared, and another, and another. Janet’s eyes went wide as a dozen small lights suddenly appeared, hovering in the darkness. Was there more than one Emily Denise Weiss buried in this graveyard? Did she summon all of them from all over the world? Then something else. Shadows. Outlines of something gathered near the lights. Janet took a few steps forward and focused on the area. The shadows moved, coming closer. She crouched low to the ground. It wasn’t shadows or spirits, but a group of people dressed in black robes, holding candles.

Tightness gripped her stomach. How could she be so stupid? Of course the dumb spell didn't work. Spirits and ghosts didn't exist. Her mother was dead. Gone. She would never see her again and Janet didn't know why she was even trying.

She walked back over to her candles and flopped to the ground. What was the use? She was completely alone now and she’d have to get used to that. She picked up the sniffer and put out the candles, and then laid forward and stretched out on the ground. The earthy smell of the grass was soothing as a few tears tricked down her cheek. She ran her fingers through the cut grass, feeling each blade as it passed under her touch. Her mother taught her this, and Janet wished she could have taught her more.

She turned on her side as the group walked passed. She counted about fifteen, but they were far enough away that she couldn’t make out an exact number. Their faces lay hidden under the length of the hoods. She kept still, keeping her focus on them as they walked deeper into the cemetery. Janet frowned. What were a group of people doing wandering around a cemetery so late at night? Then the thought struck her - maybe they were here for the same reason. Her curiosity piqued; she had to follow. Maybe they could show her where she went wrong. She sat up and reached for her black bag but a strong gust of cool wind blew dust into her face. She paused and sat back on her feet, rubbing and blinking the dust from her eyes.

Once her eyesight cleared, she gathered her things and placed them in the bag. Her hands trembled with excitement. Maybe this night wasn't a loss after all. She crept through the cemetery, ducking behind large headstones until she was close enough to get a good look.

The group stopped and formed a circle in a clearing but she still couldn’t see what was going on. Someone moved forward and she saw the stone slab on the ground. A young woman tied to it. The blade of a dagger flashed in the moonlight. This wasn’t her spell.

The hair on the back of her neck tingled as chants echoed on the wind. A strong breeze blew toward the group and in the dim light of the candles, a black cloud formed over them. The dagger was high in the air as the chanting took on a more feverish nature. The wind howled as it grew stronger, sucking toward the group.

Then it stopped. Janet closed her eyes as the blade plunged into the chest of the young woman. The sound of metal slicing through bone caused her stomach to heave as the air escaped from her lungs. She tried to stand, but her legs buckled under her and she collapsed against the headstone. Another strong breeze blew particles of dirt into her face and she crouched behind the headstone and out of the wind. Her breath came in shallow gasps as tears streamed down her face. She had to run but her body ached with fear. There were too many of them and she didn’t think she could run fast enough to get away.

Rumblings echoed through the graveyard and Janet inched her way to the edge of the stone and peeked around. The cloud spun and churned into a black vortex above the group, sucking up a white light from the body on the slab. When the light was gone, the vortex dissipated and the night became quiet again.

Janet sat, her body trembling against the stone as the group moved away from the body and back the way they came. She kept herself in the stone’s shadow as the light from the candles reflected off the other stones and traveled away. She closed her eyes and sobbed, clasping her hands over her mouth to keep any cries from bursting out. Her stomach heaved a few more times, and she took several breaths to try and calm herself down.

Through her eyelids, she saw a light grow stronger. Her eyes snapped open, expecting to see one of those black robes looming over her, instead, she found herself looking into the worried face of Emily Denise Weiss. The spirit crouched low to the ground, and leaned forward.

Go! Run now!

Janet didn’t hesitate as she scrambled to her feet and ran in the opposite direction.

***

The strong smell of incense overpowered Martin as he stepped out of the elevator and through the smoke. It was thick and he could taste it in his mouth. He took a sip of his takeout coffee to offset the musky aftertaste. It had been a few weeks since he last visited this office. Apparently, his hours were extremely flexible, as his new boss hadn’t called him until this morning. Fine by him. He still had lingering doubts about what went on at the Embassy. At least in his subsequent time off, he’d managed to reconcile that it did happen. Still, it was a lot to take in.

He yanked on the heavy wrought iron gate, waiting for it to lock shut behind him before moving on. He wondered about the gate for a moment. It was old, way older than the building. He didn't see any Runes on it, so it wasn't there for protection. Yet, there had to be a reason. Maybe now that he was a permanent employee, someone would give him a straight answer if he asked.

Martin paused by the huge wooden door that led to the office. He was an employee now, and there was a satisfying feeling that accompanied that thought. He was safe, had security. After all, could they