drawing room, he felt like he’d gone back in time. The heavy, damask curtains had been drawn, blocking out the cold night, and the blazing fire illuminated Oswald’s heavy oak furniture and rich fabrics.
Most of the witches looked to be in attendance, and the eccentric clothing of the older members added another layer of the past. It felt to Caspian that time seemed to be slipping even more frequently this Samhain, and it would only get worse as the day itself approached.
Oswald intercepted him, and he accepted the offered glass of gin and tonic with pleasure. The joy of witch-flight was that you could drink and fly. “Thanks, Oswald. I need this.”
“Everything all right?” Oswald asked as he sipped his own drink. “You look a bit peaky.”
“I’m helping Avery and her coven with a new issue,” he explained, glancing over at Avery who was talking to Eve. “We’ll explain it more later, but do you know much about spirit animals?”
“My father was a great believer, but I confess it is not something I am familiar with.” He narrowed his eyes. “I presume your current predicament has something to do with them?”
“Well, we hope they will be there to help us. It seems the White Haven witches’ ancestors are trying to contact them…by any means necessary.”
He rocked on his heels. “Interesting. Is this to do with the incident at the harbour? I saw it on the news. Although, am I right in saying there is now some doubt about the veracity of the incident?”
“There is no doubt, I can assure you. The issue is that the magic appears to cause amnesia after the event. Now, those involved are doubting it ever happened.”
“Not entirely surprising. Shock itself can cause memory loss and a distortion of events. You know who is behind it?”
“An ancient enemy of the witches’ ancestors—very ancient, by the glimpses we have had of them so far. Well, I say we, but I haven’t seen a thing.”
His expression must have said everything, because Oswald asked, “Are you feeling left out?”
Caspian wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He always kept so much of himself hidden away that his instinct was to do the same now. However, the firelight and candles, the excellent gin and tonic, and the murmur of conversation around them seemed to invite confidences. “I suppose I am, a little. Despite our early enmity, I have become good friends with the White Haven witches, and they in turn have been generous in extending their friendship to me. Every single one of them.” Even Alex, he thought, but kept that to himself. “And yet…”
He fell silent, but Oswald finished his sentence. “You still feel left out.”
“I do, and yet I have no reason to.” Caspian gave a dry laugh. “I’m on Team White Haven now. An honorary coven member. I suppose in all the times that I’ve helped them, and they have helped me, we have had a common goal. Now, however, this is about their ancestors. Their coven. They have been a coven, it seems, for hundreds of years, in one form or another.” The thought was dizzying. “That’s an unbreakable connection. I’m not a part of that. And I certainly don’t have that bond with my own coven, despite my improving relationship with Estelle.”
“Well, that’s hardly surprising. Your father was a divisive man. He lived off breeding discontent. He sowed the seeds of discord among us, too, the fruit of which was finally crushed at the solstice.” Oswald’s face wrinkled with distaste. “Odious man. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. He was.”
Oswald’s expression softened. “But I think you do yourself a disservice. They are not only clearly fond of you, but respect you, too. As they should. You are an excellent, powerful witch, and have shown yourself to have a strong moral compass. I have watched you, as have the other elder council members, after your father’s demise. You could have taken a different route. One of darkness and revenge. Instead, you have moved on. Reinvented yourself. Or maybe, just found the man you really were all along.”
Caspian found he couldn’t speak. His chest felt full and tight. Fighting for control, he finally said, “Thank you, Oswald. That’s a very generous comment. Although, knowing I have been watched is a little unnerving.”
Oswald laughed. “Don’t worry. We don’t stalk you. But you know, you have another opportunity here. You can reinvent your own coven, just as you want it to be. No doubt your cousins and uncle all had their issues with your father. You said your sister did.”
“Oh, my sister is reinventing herself all right. She works with the Nephilim now.”
“Excellent. I would imagine she would probably appreciate your support. Your advice and knowledge. Your coven, too, has an impressive history of its own. Talk to them. A fractured coven is no good to anyone. Not that I’m suggesting you should abandon ‘Team White Haven’, of course.” Oswald’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Does your coven meet regularly?”
Guilt ripped through Caspian as he realised that they only really met at the big sabbats with the Cornwall Coven. He’d neglected them. Rejected them. “No. I think it would be fair to say that it’s hanging together by a thread.”
Oswald extended his hands, almost sloshing his gin. “This is the perfect moment. Samhain. A time when our ancestors look on through the thinning veil. It is also the Witches’ New Year. A time to give thanks for what has gone before and plan anew. Summon your coven, Caspian. I suspect what you feel now is the lack of them. You’re not separated from your White Haven friends. They clearly need you. However, you crave your own group, too. Make it happen.” Oswald nodded beyond Caspian, to where the witches had started to enter the long room where they held their meetings. “It’s time to join the others.”
Caspian allowed himself to be led to the next room, Oswald’s hand under his elbow, and pondered how insightful Oswald was. That was exactly what he needed to do. Strengthen his coven, and find an anchor in the dark.
Before he could mull on it further, the meeting was underway. Genevieve started with their regular business, discussing plans for Samhain at Rasmus’s house. All the covens were attending, and it promised to be a night of reflection and celebration. After that there was a roundup of news from across Cornwall.
Hemani reported an abnormal level of spirit activity in Launceston, but reassured everyone that it was all in hand. Claudia reported her coven had stabilised after the loss of Cornell in the summer. Many towns were having their own Samhain celebrations, and everyone was looking forward to them. When the discussion turned to White Haven, Avery updated everyone with their news. Their group had met in Alex’s pub before the meeting, so they had all the latest information, but it seemed that no one else was having issues with aggressive, magical mist and vanishing townspeople.
Avery concluded, “So our biggest question is, who understands or uses animal spirits? It’s something we are utterly unfamiliar with, but need to understand—really quickly!”
Eve laughed. “It sounds like Reuben is adapting to his well.”
“I think it’s fair to say,” Caspian said, “that Reuben never ceases to surprise us.”
“Well, unfortunately,” Eve continued ruefully, “as much as I would like to help, I can’t with this. It sounds fascinating, though.”
Jasper leaned forward, hands clasped together under his chin. “I know the theory, but have never tried to find my own. Many people think that spirit animals belonged solely to the indigenous American Indian culture, but that’s far from true. Other indigenous peoples connect strongly to animal totems. The Aboriginal people of Australia, for example. Their dream-weaving is deeply embedded in spirit animals. Ancient cave paintings across the world often depict animals, including in Europe, which means Celtic cultures also incorporated spirit animals into their spiritual beliefs. Of course, European witchcraft has its own version.” He smiled as his gaze ran around the table. “We call them familiars.”
Genevieve laughed. “Of course! How could I have forgotten that familiars and spirit animals are the same! Unfortunately, I always feel that familiar is a term that seems to belittle the experience of our connection to animals. Totem animals sound so much more…”
“Powerful?” Jasper suggested. “Less twee. And certainly, during the witch hunts of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, familiars were demonized. Literally.”
Claudia nodded, and her huge earrings swung like chandeliers. “Said to be the work of the devil by those ridiculous men.”
“Who also,” Rasmus said next to her, his voice rasping as usual, “simultaneously undermined the familiar, while demonising it. Reduced the concept to cats and owls. A spirit animal is so much more than that.”
Caspian heard the resentment in Rasmus’s voice, and asked, “You’ve had experience of it, Rasmus?”
“A long time ago, after my wife was killed by vampires. It was something she embraced, and wanting to be close to her, I tried to find mine.” He looked at Caspian before his eyes took on a faraway gaze. “I stared into the fire on long, dark evenings several times, taking the necessary steps to put myself into the right frame of mind. Only once did I have a fleeting connection to an animal, but it didn’t last. It felt contrived, strange. I certainly didn’t feel guided or protected. Maybe I wasn’t in the right mindset to begin with.”
Avery shuffled in her seat, framing her next question. “I wonder if it’s because we’re disconnected to the landscape more than we used to be.”
Gray, the lead witch from Bude Coven with a wild mass of red hair, frowned. “But we’re witches. I don’t know about you, but I strongly connect with the landscape and the elements. Surely, we all do?”
“Of course we do,” Caspian said immediately. “As an air witch, I feel elemental wind strongly. The way it carries scents to me, and even changes in the weather. I suppose I do it so subconsciously now, it doesn’t even register. But, to reach out and find a spirit guide requires an extra step.” He hesitated, feeling he’d explained it badly.
Oswald jumped in to support him. “I agree, Caspian. Connecting to the elements is one thing, but a totem animal, or a familiar to put it into European language, is quite something else.”
“It has fallen out of fashion, for years,” Hemani added. “Only now, with the Wiccan movement, has it become more popular.”
Rasmus snorted. “Popular! Witchcraft is not popular. It is always and forever here, whether you choose to see it or not.”
“Or are born with gifts or not,” Genevieve reminded him. “And Hemani is right. It has fallen out of fashion to a certain degree, you know it has. Things do. In our modern world, things that are uncool are dismissed. Familiars are associated with the witch hunts, and with Medieval magic. When familiars are inserted into literature and films, they become twee, exactly as Jasper said. Familiars are—or should be—so much more than that.” She addressed Avery and Caspian. “I may not be able to offer you advice, but I am certainly interested in the outcome.”
“I should also add,” Jasper said, “that the familiar was not always an animal.”
Caspian smiled. As usual, Jasper was a wealth of knowledge.
He continued, “They could present as humanoid in form, and were said to be vivid in their appearance. Not a wishy-washy ghost figure. They assisted with magic, as well as offered protection.” He laughed. “I’m now wondering why I have never sought out my own. I should add, by the way, that you don’t always need to search for one. Sometimes they come to you, unbidden. They offer advice depending on your need. Plus, each animal means different things—has their own power.”
“You have certainly helped flesh out the concept,” Caspian told them. “At least for me. Calling it a familiar helps ground it. Roots it in my own culture.” He glanced over at Avery. “I suppose unless anyone else has any more insights, we should move on to our next question. Shall I?” She nodded, her red hair falling forward to frame her face, and in the candlelight her skin glowed. Caspian turned away hurriedly as his familiar heartache surfaced again. “Skuld’s Net, and Wyrd, the weaver of worlds. It seems that White Haven’s enemy is using her to help his cause.”
“The Fates!” Eve exclaimed. “That’s a powerful enemy.”
“Three powerful enemies,” Rasmus growled. “It is rare they work alone.”
Caspian exchanged a startled look with Avery. “You think all three are involved?”
“Just a thought.” He shrugged his shoulders, rounded with age. “However, whenever they are referred to in myths across cultures, they are always together.”
Jasper nodded. “I’m afraid he’s right. Depending on what you read, the three Fates represent past, present, and future. The weave of time is always enmeshed. If you pull one thread, another will pull, too.”
Avery paled. “So, that’s three Goddesses we might face, and a wizard. Fantastic.”
“I’m not so sure,” Gray said with a frown. “The past, present, and future is one interpretation of their roles, but for the Morai, the Fates from Greek myth, their actions were more specific. The youngest determined birth, the middle sister determined your path or destiny, and the third determined your death. The weaver, therefore, is the middle sister.”
“Not according to Norse myth,” Jasper pointed out. “The Norns, to whom Skuld belongs, is the weaver, but all three sisters work together. Wyrd is more of a concept, although is seen as a Goddess, too. Loosely.”
Caspian leaned back in his chair, feeling overwhelmed. The discussion was animated now. Small conversations started around the table, buzzing with the excited back and forth exchanging of ideas. At least everyone was as confused as they were. Somehow, that made him feel better.
He felt a prickle that suggested someone was staring at him, and turning, he found Avery looking at him, full of sorrow and despondency. Like him, she was overwhelmed. He gave her a weak smile meant to convey reassurance.
If they had expected answers from the coven, they were going to leave sorely disappointed.