Page 5

Chapter Five

W hit stood near the picnic table with all the food, watching the summer witches and sorcerers mingle amongst themselves. They wore a variety of costumes—everything from grotesque zombies to the good witch of the north.

“Dude, this party sucks,” Alexandre whispered beside him before shoving half a piece of pumpkin bread into his mouth.

Whit shrugged. He’d never crashed a summer party before, but he took Alexandre’s word for it. There were a few tents around the central fire, and the picnic table had good food. But the summer sorcerers and witches mostly just stood around talking.

As it was, it was pretty close to a winter party in atmosphere. Although, winter sorcerers and witches tended to celebrate with family and close friends only, unlike the summer faction who invited anyone and everyone. A typical winter party was a dinner with maybe some games afterward. Charades was as boisterous as the winter faction got.

“At least they know how to cook. Oooo, pie!” Alexandre turned his attention back to the food table.

Whit snorted at his friend. Even though the party was a bust according to Alexandre, he was glad he’d come. Well, he was glad he wasn’t with his family or sitting alone in his shop, anyway.

“I vaunt to suck your blud,” a man in a cheap Dracula costume pronounced to the woman beside him not far from where Whit stood.

Whit watched as she shrank away from him, clearly uncomfortable with his attention. She jumped up from her seat a few moments later and started walking toward Whit. With the fire behind her, he couldn’t see her face. She was a silhouette, her long hair fluttering in her wake.

Whit took a sip of his hard apple cider, turning toward Alexandre as he returned.

Alexandre looked down at the cupcake in his hand, then back up at Whit. “Did you want one?”

Whit shook his head. “No, thanks.” He’d eaten more than enough already. He’d have to get up early to run for a month straight to counter what he’d eaten tonight.

Once again, he marveled at Alexandre’s stamina when it came to food. Where does he put it all? And the fact that the man was still as skinny as he’d been as a teenager was just annoying. Whit’s only solace was that Alexandre was a foot shorter than him.

The sound of a tambourine jangling sliced through the night, and everyone turned in that direction. It came from a man in a chef’s hat, a fake mustache, and a bow tie who stood on a stump with the tambourine raised high.

Whit tilted his head. Is he dressed as a Muppet?

“All right, everyone. It’s time for us to say goodbye to summer. Let’s make a circle around the fire,” the man dressed as the Swedish Chef instructed. “We’ll raise our energy by singing, but feel free to dance as well.”

He jangled his tambourine again, then hopped down from his stump.

Whit glanced at Alexandre, who shrugged by way of consent.

As they were told, the summer sorcerers and witches formed a large circle around the fire. There were enough of them that, even standing close together, there was room for dancers in the middle.

The Swedish Chef started out the first round, and the others picked up the song a few words in.

“Hail ye gods of summer,

Mother and Father to those gathered here.

Hail ye gods of summer,

Thank you for another fruitful year.

“Goodbye gods of summer.

Your gifts were bountiful and sweet

Goodbye gods of summer.

Until at next we meet.”

The song repeated over and over—raising in strength and volume as the summer sorcerers and witches combined their voices—and a cone of magic surrounded the fire.

A woman with short golden hair, her fairy wings chiming as their bells jingled, grabbed the hands of a woman near where Whit stood—the one who’d earned Dracula’s unwanted attention. The woman needed little encouragement as she followed the fairy into the circle to dance.

She wore a historical-style dress—late seventeenth century from what Whit could tell—under a dark cloak. She smiled, laughing as she twirled, swaying her hips to the song of farewell. Her long hair, flaming in the firelight, fluttered and swirled around her as she and the fairy danced.

A glow at her chest winked at Whit like a green firefly as he watched her twirling motions. His eyes lost focus.

Finally, the song reached its pinnacle and stopped. The magic zipped all around the circle, but the only sound was the soft crackle of the fire and the breaths of the summer sorcerers and witches around him.

Quietly, the dancers stepped back into the circle, the woman in the cloak slipping in beside Whit.

The Swedish Chef stepped into the center of the circle near the fire. “Our ritual will be short tonight. I know you all want to get back to the party. So a quick prayer to whatever gods you worship, and we’ll be on our way.”

Silent understanding answered him.

“Tonight, we bid farewell to summer. It’s a sad time for all of us. Another year is gone, and we face the cold darkness ahead. But remember, when your magic is low and you shiver from the New England wind, the light will return. The sun will get warm, the leaves will grow back, and our magic will get stronger. For now, it’s a time of rest. So thank your deities, whomever they may be, for the bounties they have given you. Shout their names to the skies so they may know you still worship them even when they’re at their weakest.”

Shouts came from all around the circle in a mingling of voices. “Apollo! Freyr! Demeter! Lugh! Mercury! Ra!”

“Brighid!” the woman beside Whit called.

Whit didn’t say anything and neither did Alexandre on his other side.

“Farewell ye gods and goddesses of summer! We will keep our fires burning to strengthen your return,” the Swedish Chef proclaimed.

With a sudden gust of wintry wind, the warm campfire was blown out, and everyone was plunged into darkness.

Gasps and murmurs traveled through the group. “A bad omen,” someone whispered near Whit over the sound of Alexandre’s snickering.

Of course, Alexandre wasn’t about to let an opening like that go.

“Don’t worry,” the Swedish Chef said. “Even the darkest night comes to an end. Take the hands of those on either side of you.”

Whit took Alexandre’s hand and squeezed it in warning. That’s enough. Even if their magic is waning, they could mess us up with this many of them here. We aren’t at full power either.

Whit stiffened as a jolt ran through him when the woman on his other side slipped her hand into his.

Her hand was small and thin but warm.

“ Fear not the darkness, fear not the night ,” the Swedish Chef said.

Everyone else, including Whit and Alexandre repeated his words.

“ We spark this fire with inner light. ”

As everyone repeated the spell, the magic of the summer witch holding Whit’s hand flowed into him. It was heady and intoxicating like a humid rain in a garden bursting with violets, lilies, orchids, and gardenias. The sweetness of honey and plum were mellowed by the depth of amber and vanilla. Whit’s head spun as her magic filled him with giddiness.

He turned his head toward her while the fire sparked back to life, reawakened by the collective magic.

Her face tilted up at him, and their eyes met in the dim flicker of the fire’s glow.