Chapter 4
It was two o’clock in the morning. The members of the coven had all gone, and I was sitting at Grandma’s kitchen table with dad and her.
“Do you have any questions?” she asked me sweetly, as if nothing was even amiss.
“Oh, I have questions,” I replied a bit loudly, my irritation getting the better of me. “A lot of them!”
“Well, start asking,” Dad said, patiently. “That’s what we’re here for.”
“I thought we were Christians, for one thing,” I stated, pulling the first thought that came to my head. Even though our family had never been what people would consider super religious, my whole upbringing and belief system was being challenged. “Or were all the times we went to church just part of the illusion the two of you created?”
“We are Christian, Portia. All of that is true. We’ve never tried to lead you astray in that regard,” Dad stated calmly. “Being a witch is part of who we are, our genetic makeup, if you will. It doesn’t take away our belief system. We’ve always believed in God and Jesus.”
“I thought witches worshipped some goddess or something.” I realized I knew absolutely nothing about witchcraft other than what I’d seen in stories, movies, or heard in history class.
“Some covens do,” Grandma explained with a nod of her head. “It’s the same as any belief system anywhere. The people choose what religion they believe and what they’re comfortable with. Ours happens to be full of Christian people, and we choose to believe in God as our higher power. But we also believe that magic can come from many different elements and directions—even some involving other religious beliefs.”
“Okay.” I let that sink in for a moment. I guess it made sense, sort of.
“What else do you want to know?” my dad asked, and I knew I had to find out about the next thing, or my curiosity would kill me.
“Vance Mangum,” I said, not a question but a statement.
My dad sighed and sat back in his chair, shaking his head slightly.
“Vance has been a member of the coven since he came here two years ago,” Grandma said, when my dad didn’t answer. “His aunt’s in our coven also. You met her tonight, the woman named Marsha. Only she isn’t exactly his aunt.”
“What do you mean?” I was totally curious.
“Vance is under the protection of our coven,” Dad spoke up.
“For what reason?”
“We’re hiding him . . . ” he hesitated for a second before continuing, “from his father.”
“What? Why?” I demanded.
“It’s Vance’s story to tell,” Grandma interrupted. “But please trust us, Portia. His father is a very bad man.”
“Is Vance a . . . a,” I faltered for the right word, “a warlock then or not?”
“He’s one of the most powerful warlocks I’ve ever seen at his age,” Dad answered truthfully. “I’ve never encountered powers like his in someone so young, or even in most adults.”
I grabbed my head between my hands and rubbed my temples, resting my elbows on the table. My mind was throbbing with unanswered questions, but there was just too much to comprehend all at once.
“Why don’t we all go to bed?” Grandma suggested, squeezing my shoulder. “We can talk more about this tomorrow. Let’s get some rest for now. The two of you are welcome to stay here tonight.”
My dad shook his head, pushing away from the table and standing
“I can’t, Mom. Stacey will be home from the hospital soon, so I’ll go home to sleep. Portia can stay here, though,” he offered. “That way you can show her some more things in the morning. Is that okay with you, Pumpkin?” he asked me, and I nodded my head wearily.
“All right then. Drive safely and have a good night, Sean,” Grandma replied, giving my dad a peck on the cheek.
Dad gave her a quick hug, turned, and hugged me. “Get some sleep. It’ll all be better in the morning, I promise.”
I nodded numbly as I returned his embrace.
After Grandma shuttled him out the door, she locked it and led me down the hall to the guest bedroom. I’d always loved spending the night in this room. It was decorated in beautiful sky-blue and white. The white four-poster bed, covered in a thick down comforter, had one of those comfy mattresses made with the tempered foam.
Grandma removed the throw pillows from the bed and turned the covers back.
“I think you still have some tank tops and shorts in the drawer from the last time you stayed,” she said, nodding toward the dresser.
I went to check and found one of my white tops with a pair of tan, plaid boxers.
“Yeah, they’re still here.” I pulled them from the drawer.
“Good. Get some rest,” she said as I sat on the bed.
She bent over and kissed my forehead before walking through the door, closing it behind her.
I changed my clothes and climbed into bed, pulling the comforter up to my chin. I closed my eyes but couldn’t fall asleep. Too many things raced madly through my mind as I replayed my entire life, looking for discrepancies in my personal history.
Of course, my mind kept flitting to the things I’d learned about Vance tonight too. Suddenly, a whole lot of things about him were beginning to make more sense, and I couldn’t help but wonder what all the kids at school would think if they actually knew the truth about him—not that they would ever find out.
Oh, my head hurt. I reached to rub my temples wondering if anything would ever feel normal again. I’d been lying there for several long minutes, contemplating the possible advantage of rummaging through Grandma’s medicine cabinet for something to help my impending migraine, when I heard a sound at the window. I jumped and looked in that direction, but didn’t see anything unusual. I sighed, thinking my overactive imagination must be getting the better of me, so I closed my eyes.
No, there it was again. There was definitely something tapping on the window. I got out of bed and stood there for a minute. I took a deep breath, sucking in some bravery, and pulled the curtain back quickly. I saw nothing but the hedge. I sighed, rolling my eyes at my self-induced paranoia. Quietly, I eased the window open, thinking perhaps a branch or something from the bush might be hitting the pane. I leaned through to look for the offender.
A large hand clamped over my mouth. I opened it to scream, but the voice that cut through the still night stopped me.
“Don’t be scared. It’s just me,” Vance whispered into the air and removed his hand.
“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I asked, more than a bit irritated, my breath coming in quick little gasps. I placed a hand on my heart—which was pounding erratically—in a futile attempt to calm it.
“Not really.” He laughed quietly, his gaze skimming my scantily clad form in the moonlight. “Though I can understand how you may have come to that conclusion.”
“What’re you doing here, Vance?” I asked impatiently, even though my skin still thrummed where his hands had touched me.
“I came to see if you’d like to go for a ride,” he replied, as if it were obvious.
I looked at him, considering the new information I’d learned about him but only pondering his request for about half a second. If there was one thing I was absolutely certain of tonight, it was that I wanted to spend more time with Vance. I was completely intrigued by him.
“Yes, I would. But I need to get some pants on real quick.” I glanced down at my attire, biting my lip.
“That might be beneficial,” he said with another sultry look, followed by an appreciative smile. “I’ll wait here.” He turned to lean against the wall, folding his arms.
Hurrying to where I’d left my clothes lying carelessly on the floor earlier, I pulled my jeans on over the boxers, buttoning them while slipping my feet into my shoes. I wondered if the incessant pounding in my heart would ever go away, but I didn’t delude myself that it was due to the shock I’d just had. He was the one causing this reaction in me. I smiled before I headed back to the window.
I swung my legs up onto the sill, and Vance helped me slide to the ground. He grabbed my hand, and I felt that current shoot through me once again. I wondered if he could feel it too or if my imagination was running overtime. He led me down the street, past a couple of houses, to where he had parked his bike on the corner.
I shivered a little and rubbed my sleeveless arms.
“Maybe I should’ve grabbed a sweater,” I chattered, realizing in my hurry to join him I’d forgotten the cooler weather.
Vance immediately took off his leather jacket and placed it onto my bare shoulders.
“Thanks, but what about you?” I slipped my arms into the soft worn leather, noticing the scent of his aftershave, which clung to it.
“I’ll be fine.” He smiled, and gave me a wink. “If I get cold, you can keep me warm.”
I blushed, unable to speak as I wondered what he expected me to do, exactly.
“I’m only kidding, Portia.” He chuckled as he mounted the motorcycle and handed me his helmet.
“You remember the drill?”
I nodded and placed it on my head. Once again, he had to help me with the strap, but soon I was on the seat behind him, ready to go.
Vance jump-started the engine, and it roared to life. I brazenly wrapped my arms all the way around him, laying my bulky helmeted head against his back as he took off. We raced through the night air to the stop sign on the main highway. Vance turned right, and we proceeded up the road toward Oak Creek Canyon.
We’d traveled a few miles when Vance slowed down and made a left turn onto a dirt lane. We crossed a small bridge that spanned the creek and drove along the steep, narrow road along the canyon wall. We only went a short way before the road ended. Vance parked the bike behind a stand of trees and helped me off, removing my helmet and placing it on the motorcycle seat.
“Where are we going?” I whispered.
“I’m taking you to a little place I like to go when I need to be alone.”
I silently pondered the reason he would bring me to his private sanctuary. He reached and grabbed my hand, leading me through the trees and brush. We climbed our way upward for several minutes before we stopped, and I looked around in amazement. We were on a large, stone slab that jutted out past the edge of the cliff. Below us were the tops of the trees, and here and there we could see Oak Creek glittering in the moonlight through them. Above us were some of the sheer rock cliff faces that dotted the valley, and above them were the beautiful bright moon and stars.
“This is breathtaking,” I said, listening to the sound of the river below us.
“I think so,” Vance agreed. He sat down on the rock, letting his legs and feet dangle over the edge, and leaned backwards onto his hands.
“Have a seat,” he said, nodding to the space next to him.
I sat down, opting to cross my legs and rest my hands in my lap. After a few minutes of easy silence, Vance spoke up.
“So, you’ve had a busy day,” he commented, flashing me one of those dimpled grins, making my heart do flip-flops again.
I nodded.
“Still taking it all in?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied and then let out a tiny laugh. “Well, I would be if I knew where to begin.”
“I figured you’d have questions you wanted to ask me after tonight.”
“I do,” I said honestly, “if you don’t mind.”
“That’s why we’re here.” He seemed completely relaxed with the subject. “So go ahead.”
“Are you really a warlock?” I jumped straight to the point, realizing I really needed someone to talk to about all this.
He looked directly at me and nodded once.
“And what exactly does that mean?” I asked, still feeling more than a little baffled about everything but comfortable with him for some reason.
“It means, like you, I can do magic.”
“But I don’t do magic,” I replied quickly.
“But you can,” he responded. “That’s the difference.”
He sat up straighter and lifted his closed fist toward me. He suddenly flung his fingers out, and a small ball of flame danced in the center of his palm. I could feel the heat radiating from it.
“It’s hot,” I said, my eyes wide in amazement. “Why isn’t it burning you?”
“Because I generated it,” he explained, the light of the flames flickering over his chiseled face. “Now hold out your hand.”
I lifted my open palm and he placed the ball of burning fire into it, and it was so hot I could hardly stand it. Before I could drop it, a cooling wave shot through my fingertips, and suddenly, the fire was frozen, locked inside a piece of ice.
Vance’s quiet laughter rumbled in his chest.
“How’d you do that?” I exclaimed, lifting my hand to examine the peculiarity.
“I didn’t. You did.” He smiled at me. “The magic’s inside you. You just need to learn how to consciously use it.”
He took the ice-encased flame and threw it onto the rock. It shattered into a million pieces and disappeared.
“Other than no one telling me, why didn’t I know about my powers until now?” I asked him, truly curious about what he was telling me.
“It seems to manifest itself around the age of sixteen for most people.”
“Is that when you got yours?”
He shook his head. “No. For some reason I started manifesting around the age of five.”
“Is that good or bad?”
He shrugged. “No one really knows. My mom and dad were excited since they were both magical.
“My dad was the leader of their coven. Of course, that was before he got involved in some heavy, dark magic. My mom started to notice the signs, though at first she was in denial. It wasn’t until she observed me taking on some of his dark traits that she became really scared. She thought he was molding me to become like him. I was ten by then.”
“What did she do?” I asked captivated by his story, wondering what kind of dark traits he actually referred to.
“She ran with me at first, but he was always able to find us. Finally, she met this witch in another coven. Her name is Marsha—you met her tonight. She explained the situation to her and begged for her help. Marsha agreed. Mom got someone to fake documents so Marsha appeared to be my legal aunt, and she took legal custody of me. We’ve been running ever since.”
“What about your mom?” I asked, my heart feeling a twinge of guilt for pushing him to divulge things which were difficult.
“I don’t know what happened to her.” I heard a touch of longing enter his voice. “That was part of the agreement. We were never to contact her again.”
“That must’ve been horrible for you both,” I replied, knowing how I would’ve felt if I were in his place.
“It is for me. I just want to know she’s all right.” He stared wistfully into the night sky.
“So what brought you to Sedona?” I tried to gently steer the subject in a different direction.
“Marsha heard of your family and their coven. She came here and explained our situation, and they agreed to offer us protection. That’s part of what your dad is doing when he’s gone. He’s scouting things out, making sure we’re still safe.”
“Wow,” I said in surprise, thinking about all the times my dad had been gone from home recently. Could he have been out helping Vance? “I’m starting to see my dad in a whole new light.”
“He’s a very good man,” Vance said sincerely.
“Oh, I know that,” I replied. “I mean . . . encyclopedia salesman? Really?”
Vance laughed with me.
“So why all the mystery and everything at school?” I asked, changing the subject to a slightly easier topic for him.
“I figured if I stayed aloof, people wouldn’t get too close.” He shrugged. “It’s easier to stay hidden that way.”
I mulled that over in my head for a few moments. “Then why are you here with me?”
He sighe
d, sounding a little frustrated. He stood, placing his hands in his pockets, and began walking back and forth in a line.
“Well, for one thing, you’ll be the thirteenth member of our coven, which will make us the strongest we can be. That’s a good thing.”
“Oh,” I replied, almost feeling a little sad but not exactly sure why. “Is that the only reason?”
“Well . . . , ” he paused, looking slightly uncomfortable, “no, not exactly . . . ”
“It’s okay. You can trust me,” I said, trying to offer him some kind of encouragement to continue.
He stared at me for several seconds. “You’ve been calling for me,” he finally blurted out.
“I’ve been . . . what?” I was confused. When had I ever called for him?
“You’ve been calling for me,” he said again. “Maybe you don’t realize it, but it’s happening a lot lately—mostly when you’re asleep. But you did it consciously today when you were blowing out the candles on your birthday cake.”
My face flushed crimson. “How can you know about that?” I asked in amazement.
He walked over to me, reaching a hand down. I slipped mine into his, and he pulled me to my feet. We were standing toe to toe, and a breeze stirred slightly, swirling around us. He reached to tuck a stray hair blowing across my face behind my ear.
“We’re linked for some reason, you and I.” His eyes searching mine intently.
“Linked?” I whispered, my throat dry.
“It doesn’t happen very often,” he explained. “But when it does, it’s usually something very special. I hate to use the word, but it's kind of like . . . ” he hesitated again, “like we’re soul mates—connected in a way that’s extremely unique.”
“But we barely know each other,” I said, my heart beginning to beat rapidly at his words.
“I understand why you feel that way, Portia, but try not to be afraid when I say I know you better than you think. I’ve been watching you a long, long time—a couple of years, in fact. I couldn’t say anything, though, until you found out about your magic. I promised your dad I’d stay away until then.”
He seemed relieved to share this with me. I knew his words should’ve struck me as odd; however, something in the depths of my spirit began to sing. I knew he was speaking the truth. My eyes began to water as emotions flooded my body with no place to go.
“What does all this mean?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’m betting we’ll find out,” he whispered. He reached down and took both my hands into his, interlocking our fingers together, resting his forehead against mine. We stood there for a while, looking deeply at each other for the first time. I felt like we were reading one another’s souls without words.
“I’d better get you back to your grandma’s,” he said, finally breaking the silence.
I nodded, unsure of what to say.
He led me through the woods to the motorcycle, and a short time later, I was safely through the guest bedroom window once more.
“Goodnight, Vance,” I whispered to him.
“Blessed be, Portia,” he said quietly, running a finger down my cheek, and then he was gone.
I thought it would be even more difficult to go to sleep this time, but I’d been awake almost the whole night. I fell asleep quickly, and my dreams soon turned to tortured nightmares. I was running from something, trying desperately to get away, but I couldn’t see through the mist following me. I only knew whatever was in there was bad—evil—and I couldn’t let it get me.
“Vance!” I called his name into the darkness as the fog threatened to overcome me, and suddenly he was standing there before me. He grasped me, enveloping me in his arms.
“Portia,” he said, and I reveled in the heat and close contact of him. I buried my head in his chest. “Portia, it’s only a dream. You’re safe at your grandma’s house, remember?”
I suddenly sat straight up, wide-awake and trembling in my grandma’s guest bed. I glanced around the room, expecting to see him standing there, but the room was empty. It was nothing but a dream—a dream so real it was tangible.
Releasing a deep sigh, I wiped my brow and lay back onto the pillow. Confusing thoughts buzzed through my mind, but I tried to latch onto something safe instead. Soul mates. The word kept ringing over and over again. What did it really mean to be someone’s soul mate? Was that even real? I wasn’t sure of what was happening between us, but I could think of a lot worse things in life than being the soul mate of Vance Mangum. I found myself hoping he was right.
After several moments of dwelling on the possibility, I finally drifted to sleep once again.