Chapter 3 #2
"And this is Wren Vesper," Ostara said, somewhat reluctantly. She hadn’t wanted me at the meeting to begin with, but no one else had agreed with her, and so she was overruled.
Celeste took my hand gently and gave it a squeeze. "Ah, yes, Jess' young friend. I've heard a lot about you already, Wren."
I had no idea how to respond to that other than blushing furiously, so I just muttered, "It's good to meet you, High Priestess."
"And you," Celeste replied, smiling in a motherly way that melted some of my nervousness away. "And please, do call me Celeste. We need no such formalities among friends, do we?"
"Okay," I whispered. Celeste squeezed my hand once more and then moved away to the chair in which Ostara was now inviting her to sit down.
There was a moment of bustle as everyone else who was standing found a place to sit.
The air in the room seemed to buzz with our collective anticipation.
From the corner of the room, the woman named Catriona was gazing intently at me.
When I caught her eye, she didn't bother to look away or look abashed at being caught staring so avidly. Instead, it was me who dropped my gaze to the hands twisting in my lap. Even then, I could feel the woman’s penetrating stare burrowing into me.
Once everyone had been seated—even Persi, who grudgingly slumped into a chair when Ostara cleared her throat pointedly and glared at her—Ostara assumed her regular perch in a high-backed wing chair that looked a bit like a throne, and cleared her throat.
Beside me, my mother reached over and patted my leg. I looked at her and read the question in her eyes.
Are you okay?
I nodded and tried to remember how to breathe.
"Well," Celeste said, drawing every ounce of attention in the room onto herself instantly, "as I said, thank you all for welcoming us here.
I want to begin by acknowledging the risk you are taking.
You value your privacy and your secrecy.
We, as Durupinen, share the same values.
You want to ensure the safety of your community.
I want to assure you right now that we want the very same. "
Xiomara threw a smug look at Ostara as though to say, See? Just like I said. Ostara pointedly ignored her, continuing to look determinedly at Celeste.
"Now I have spoken at length with Jess Ballard regarding her time here," Celeste went on, "and so I think I have a general understanding of your community's relationship to the Geatgrima or, as you have always referred to it, the Source. Is that correct?"
"Yes," Ostara said. "That is the name that was passed down to us from the ancestors who settled here."
"And it was the Source that drew them here in the first place, is that also correct?"
"That's right," Lydian said before Ostara could answer. "They could feel their magic strengthening as they neared the place, although they did not know why."
"Fascinating," Celeste murmured. "Utterly fascinating, particularly because I have never heard of this phenomenon before. There are Geatgrimas all over the world, and yet there is no documented pattern of covens settling near them."
"You track covens?" Ostara asked sharply.
"Not as a rule," Celeste said. "I don't want you thinking you're under surveillance or anything like that.
It's merely a question of being aware of proximity.
Historically, we've tried to keep our distance from covens.
More than a few Durupinen have been hanged or burned at the stake throughout the centuries by ignorant people mistaking our abilities for witchcraft—which, of course, should not have been a crime either, but then women of power have always been persecuted. "
Ostara looked like she was trying to decide whether she should be offended. Xiomara and the others, however, were all nodding their heads. It certainly made sense to me. Jess had mentioned something similar in one of our conversations.
"The truth is that we know comparatively little of witchcraft, apart from the fact that it exists," Celeste said.
"The less we know about it, the smaller the chance we can be associated with it.
For centuries, ignorance has been a form of protection.
But now it seems we need to learn more about each other, so that we can better understand how to work together. "
Celeste looked all around the room at this point, meeting each of our gazes as though extending each of us a silent invitation. She knew we were on edge. She was trying to put us at ease, that much was obvious to me, even if some other people in the room looked less convinced.
“I would love to know if someone would be willing to explain exactly what sort of effect the proximity of the Source has on your magic,” Celeste went on, her expression full of eager interest. “You say your ancestors could feel it strengthen. Could you elaborate on that? That is… would you be comfortable sharing that?”
The members of the Conclave were sharing silent looks.
It was clear from Ostara’s closed-off expression that she was not going to volunteer any information herself.
I, for one, didn’t see how it could hurt for Celeste to have this information; but then, I hadn’t had the time to grow as protective of this place as the rest of the witches in the room had done.
Sedgwick Cove was still a place I was trying to become a part of, not a place I was compelled to shut others out of.
But it seemed the rest of the Conclave could find nothing objectionable in Celeste’s request, because Lydian cleared her throat and answered.
“The Source has long been known to amplify the powers of hereditary witches—that is, witches who are born with natural magic in their bloodlines. When we are here in the Cove, our spells are more potent, our visions clearer and more detailed. We used to believe it had something to do with the location’s perfect blending of natural elements—the power of the ocean, the earth, the sun, the winds, all come together in some kind of perfect harmony.
Witches have affinities, you see, to the elements.
Typically, we can draw on the power of one more strongly than the others, and it imbues our magic with similar strength. ”
“Ah, I see,” Celeste said, nodding along.
“We—that is to say, the Durupinen—have similar gifts within our magic, though they all have to do with our connection to the spirit world. Some of us are Empaths, for example, and can experience the emotions of spirits around them. Others are Muses, who can connect with spirits through art, or Seers, who can actually make predictions based on their spirit connections.”
“Yes, we have witches whose powers work in those same ways,” Ostara said stiffly.
I tried not to let my eyes dart over to Persi, but I couldn’t help it.
It seemed no one else could either; after all, talk of Muses and Seers conjured memories of one witch in particular, though no one dared say her name out loud.
Persi had turned to look out the window, and she continued to fix her eyes on the stormy sea outside as the conversation continued.
Lydian went on as though oblivious to the awkwardness that had settled over the rest of us.
“Now that we better understand what the Source is, thanks to the Durupinen, we have revised our theories. We now believe that it is the proximity to our ancestors—that is to say, the nearness of the spirit realm—that amplifies our powers. The power of those who came before us reaches back through the veil and strengthens our own power in turn.”
“That would certainly make sense,” Celeste said, her expression contemplative.
“Intergenerational power, still connected by proximity. Absolutely fascinating.” Her eyes were alight with a kind of academic fervor, and I half expected her to jump up from her chair and ask to be brought to the Source for some kind of demonstration.
She abstained, however, keeping her expression open and attentive, and Xiomara took up the thread.
“What’s more,” Xiomara said, “over the last few months we’ve been able to do a bit of…
research of our own. It seems that the Source has a particularly amplifying effect on spirit witches—that is to say, witches whose affinity lies in the element of spirit.
Our ability to communicate is greatly increased. ”
It was in that moment that something clicked for me.
Xiomara had left the Cove in November for two weeks, and the cafe actually closed for a short time.
This, of course, had led to a lot of gossip and speculation, as Xiomara had never been known to close the cafe before in anyone’s memory, not for any reason.
But Rhi had insisted that everything was fine, and that Xiomara was just handling some “family business.” Now I thought I understood what that family business might be.
“That’s why you left the Cove last month, isn’t it?” I blurted out. “Were you testing your spirit abilities out of range of the Source?”
My cheeks flamed as I realized I had spoken out of turn, but Xiomara merely smiled at me.
“That’s correct, mija. My powers, though still formidable by any witch’s standards, were significantly decreased by the distance.
My daughter’s abilities as a fireworker were also affected, though to a lesser degree.
We still have more to learn, but that is what we have discovered so far. ”
“And you noticed the decrease in your powers recently, when the Geatgrima was damaged, correct?” Celeste asked.
“That’s right,” Xiomara said. “It was one of the things that alerted us to the fact that something was wrong. We completely lost contact with our spirit guides. That contact was only restored when the Source itself was restored.”