Ben stood by the boulder that allowed him to view the coven led by the warlock, Winston Tennison. The Tennison coven was the closest coven to his own, but not the friendliest. Winston Tennison had a highly competitive nature that lacked the comradeship that, although rare amongst the covens could occasionally be found. Ben’s coven, for instance, tended to value solidarity over superiority.
Because of his drive to be the best, Winston had developed his magical skills beyond those of Ben. He suspected that there were few spells the warlock didn’t know. Ben hoped that the spell of regeneration wasn’t amongst them. He’d already approached Winston on several occasions for help but to no avail. Even so, if there was the minutest possibility that the uncooperative warlock knew the spell and might find it in his constitution to share it with Ben, he had to try.
There was something strange about the coven’s headquarters that he couldn’t quite place. It had a sense of coldness that he hadn’t experienced on his other visits. Because of this, he took his time approaching. Slow, steady forward strides gave him an opportunity to scope the area and access what was different.
Like Ben, Winston favored caves over man made dwellings. There was an energy held within nature’s creations that was lost when it was converted into something made by man. Caves not only helped to enhance the energy that was being used for magic, but they afforded a more secluded and less visible location. Ben had to literally enter it before he was able to understand just what the shift in the energy that he felt was caused by.
His heart lept to his throat and beat against his Adam’s apple as he rushed to the limp figure that lay limp and twisted on the cave’s cold floor. After carefully checking for a pulse in Winston’s neck, Ben wiped at a stray tear that slowly escaped down his cheek as he rolled the former warlock onto his back. With this new position giving him a better idea of what happened, he instantly realized by the angry bite wound on his neck that Winston had been unlucky enough to have been on site during a successful vampire raid.
“Sons of bitches!” he bellowed as he carefully straightened Winston’s bloodless body. Looking around, he found the bodies of two more warlocks piled one on top of the other against the far wall. Scorched spots on the cave’s interior showed that they’d put up a bit of a fight before the vampires bested them.
Having not been present for the raid of his own coven, Ben tried to understand the circumstances behind the witches being taken by surprise as they were. His was the first to be raided, so the unsuspecting witches wouldn’t have thought to be on the lookout, but Winston should have been on his guard. Was he? Since he gave little credence to Ben’s pleas on his previous visits, Ben doubted they’d taken any precautions for themselves.
It was a costly and fatal lesson.
After carefully dragging the other warlocks’ bodies to be placed next to their leader’s, Ben took a moment to rest and gather his thoughts. There was a ritual that needed to be performed over the bodies of the deceased in order for their souls to enter the recycling process and not be stuck in limbo. It was normally performed by the entire coven. Sadly, he was the only one there.
He may not have had the magical knowledge that Winston possessed, but his abilities were equal to his. For this, he was grateful. It would take a lot of magical strength for him to compensate for the fact that he was performing the ritual solo. Had he not had the power that he possessed, he would not have been able to pull it off.
Powerful warlock or not, he still needed to rest and gather his thoughts before he began.
Making his way to Winston’s throne, he eased his body into it and closed his eyes. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he felt from the ordeals of recent. Not once, since the raid on his own coven, had he taken the time to sit back and recharge. He had no idea how badly in need he was of it.
Resting his head against the back of the ornate and gilded, velvet upholstered chair, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. His body slowly went into a state of catharsis as his surroundings disappeared. Had anyone with a magical eye been present, they would have been able to witness the stress and darkness that had collected and attached itself to him slowly release it was replaced by brilliant, clean energy.
He was so intent on repairing and regenerating that he didn’t hear Matilda’s gasp as she stood at the cave’s entrance. It wasn’t until her loud cry of anguish echoed off the earthen walls as she rushed up to the lifeless bodies of the three warlocks that he realized he wasn’t alone.
“It seems a bit dangerous to go into such a state of limbo after what occurred here,” Cerie said as she strode with regal confidence into the cave. “This is the work of Samuel’s vampires, I assume?”
Taken aback, it was a few moments before Ben was able to compose himself enough to answer.
“I found them in heaps. I was preparing to perform the ritual on my own,” he offered.
With her brows knitted together in thought, Cerie said, “It does take a lot of energy to do such a thing solo.” Filling her lungs with air, she called for the rest of the witches to enter the cave. “We are here now,” she said. “We will all perform it with you.”
Looking down at Matilda as she cradled Winston’s limp torso in her arms, Ben said with an authoritative tone afforded to warlocks who led covens, “I recognize her as being part of his coven, but I do not recognize you.”
With a mild chuckle, Cerie said in a voice that equaled his with authority, but not in volume, “Tone it down, warlock. I am Cerie, an old and ancient witch who can take you down with my pinky of you disrespect me again.”
“She is our queen,” Matilda eagerly offered through sniffles.
Ben had heard of Cerie and even spoken of her with Jasper, but he’d never met her. Very few of the warlocks did. It was common knowledge that the warlocks became leaders of the covens only after Cerie and her followers were cast out of their homeland and she abandoned them to go wallow in self-pity. She’d brought only a few male witches with her, but they’d proved to be more adaptable to the circumstances than the female witches, so they took charge. With the female witches content to follow them, it eventually became the custom.
He knew that she was technically his queen, but he inherently didn’t trust or respect her. How could he after all that she’d done? Or, should he say hadn’t done? Had she assumed her role as queen after being cast into this new world, perhaps the covens would have a stronger sense of solidarity and a lesser need for competitiveness.
He may not respect or approve of the old witch, but what he did know was that she had a power that surpassed all warlocks. She was not one to anger. Therefore, he kept his opinions to himself while giving a slight bow of respect to her.
“I am grateful for your presence, my queen,” he managed to choke out.
Satisfied with the actions of this lowly warlock, Cerie gave a smug smile as she motioned for the witches for form a circle around the three dead warlocks. Once they’d clutched each other’s hands, she bellowed a few words in Latin that Ben recognized as the incantation for entering the cycle of rebirth while the witches made a harmonious tone that almost sounded angelic. Although he’d led such a ritual on numerous occasions, he’d never seen it done with such intensity. Within seconds, the souls of the departed raised from their bodies and exited the cave on their way to the heavens.