The Queen of Darkness: Unveiling More Layers of Her Enchantment

 Morgan walked through the little Magick Moon Shoppe, looking around. In her hand was that little box they’d received on their doorstep. A storm raged outside with thunder and lightning, giving the store a haunted feel that ran chills down Morgan’s spine. Despite that, she couldn’t help but admire the cute little out-clove to one side.

Walking to the door window, she took the medallion out of the box and hung it on the hook that stuck to the glass front door. Staring at the Triquetra, she wondered, not for the first time, exactly what it meant. If she saw Sophia, anytime soon, she planned to ask her what she knew about it.

Morgan glanced around with pride. A place like this could seem like a whole lot when someone had been down and out the way she’d been—before she’d come home. They’d set up a glass case of essential oils that sat nearly six-feet high. And since she loved these scented oils, it quickly became her favorite part of the store. The sisters and their friends could go behind the glass and mix up any essence mix the customer wanted.

The back wall held ceramic pots of herbs. It looked like a little apothecary story—just like Claire wanted. She touched the large, stone mortar and pestle. The place already had a magickal feel to it. She turned, looking at all the crystals they’d set in tall mirrored, square glass, case displays.

She sat on one of the couches, in the circle, around a large, stone altar table. From what Sophia said about the Vampire factions, Morgan had to wonder if they should be opening this shop at all, at the present moment. She gazed at the altar.

Claire had said they needed to gather the Daughters of the Circle, more than ever. At this time, Tara may have already found one of those daughters. Now, they had their little Magick Moon Shoppe. Morgan smiled, looking around, one hand over her stomach. Things were coming along nicely for them.

Morgan reached over the altar and picked up a long, wooden match, lighting one of the candles—whispering a little chant of healing and regeneration. Perhaps she’d always been more of a witch than she realized. She stared at the candle. She’d always lit candles and whispered incantations.

She looked around the store, once more, wondering how many Daughters of the Circle there really were. At least, if they knew that—they’d begin to understand how many they needed to find. For all they knew, they might have already gathered all the daughters.

No, she thought. There are thirteen.

Shocked, she glanced around, sharply. She’d swear someone had just said that. Where could that have possibly come from? First, she started hearing that blasted cat, and now, this. She glanced around, again. 

She sighed. How about that.

She’d been told that there were some Witches who were in tune with their Familiars, so that they actually heard them. It wasn’t all that unusual. 

Now, this.

She realized, and not for the first time, she had guides—that she’d always had help from the other side, who helped her. She’d always heard their advice and answers like this. She knew that, now. She just hadn’t fully comprehended where those instincts came from. She knew, too, that she only needed to listen, to hear the answers. They were who warned her, whenever she was in danger—or yelled, inside her head, to swerve when she’d nearly had an accident.

That made sense. After all, who did people think warned them in those circumstances? Did they really think it was just a hunch?

She nearly snorted.

Really? Just a hunch told them to swerve—just in the nick of time? A lot of things were beginning to make sense to her. She only needed to listen. 

“Okay, then—how do we find the rest of the Daughters?” she asked spirit, staring into the candle. “Do we wait for them to be drawn to their little Magick Moon Shoppe like we’ve been told by the Fae?” She glanced around, again. “Will we really recognize them when we see them?

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, doing her best to sit and meditate, but her mind kept wandering. First, she kept thinking about her Familiar, the black cat, who suddenly seemed to hang around, almost every day, now. 

How was it she’d never noticed him before? Everyone else had. How had she missed him? He was there every time she walked out the door. Why? Did he want her to invite him in?

She shook her head. She loved cats, and normally, she would have had him in the house by that first night. But something about this particular cat unnerved her. Besides, he didn’t seem in any rush to come inside, either. She snorted at that. Imagine that—not wanting to come inside the manor. Maybe that huge house intimidated him, too?

She smiled, remembering she’d once been afraid of the Manor, too. She couldn’t believe she’d ever felt that way. She loved that old house. He would, too.

Goosebumps swept up her arm. Was she really looking forward to talking to a cat? She grinned at that, shaking her head. Yeah, apparently, she was. Maybe having a Familiar would help her get through this. Things were getting so out of hand. She was too concerned, of late, about Alex. She knew something was on his mind, and it seemed like the more she thought they were getting close—the more he pulled away.

Something in the core of her being was terrified to hear the answer.

Frustrated, she tried to put it from her mind, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She wanted to figure out what bothered him. He was pulling away from her. She could feel it. She needed to understand why. She wanted him to talk to her—but she couldn’t figure out how to get him to do that. She knew what that probably meant—and she didn’t like the implications of that. Only one thing could cause him to drift away from her—and if that were true, then she knew what was distracting him.

Distractions like that usually meant secrets. And Morgan didn’t like secrets. They usually meant there were skeletons hidden in the closet—and the person doing the hiding was likely fighting to keep them hidden. She didn’t know what she’d do if she found out Alex was keeping secrets from her.

She turned when a noise interrupted her from her thoughts as Alex, himself, came in through the back door. She glanced up at him as he came over to where she sat, shaking out his raincoat and laying it over one of the chairs. He sat down next to her, pulling her into the circle of his arms. She relaxed into the comfort of his arms. She missed this.

That’s when she realized that it had been awhile since he held her this way. She glanced up at him, then. “Hmmm,” she said, “this is nice.” He smiled and kissed her forehead, pulling her closer still. She sat that way for several minutes, soaking up the warmth of his arms. “Alex,” she finally said. “Something’s been bothering you….”

He pulled her flush to him as the thunder clapped outside, shaking his head. “No,” he said. “Just the usual—worried about getting your aunt back—like the rest of you.”

This answer didn’t sit right with Morgan, though she knew he spoke the truth. He did worry about their aunt, and she knew it. But his answer hadn’t been entirely truthful, either—she could feel it. She settled into his side. She could only hope that whatever he held back wouldn’t be a deal-breaker when it finally came to light. Because, such things always had a way of coming out.

She glanced out toward the front as the storm raged on. They would have to wait it out. They couldn’t go running for this manor in this rain, with the lightening, she thought. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “I hope Tara comes home soon,” she said. “Do you think she’ll bring Ravyn back with her?” she asked.

She felt Alex flinch and wondered at that.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.”

Morgan wrapped her arm around his middle, closing her eyes. “Maybe Sophia will learn something that will help us.”

She heard him murmur his agreement.  They needed to figure out an answer.  After a long moment, she felt Alex shift under her. “I wonder if she’ll wind up bringing that Vampire back with her,” he said.

Morgan frowned, opening her eyes and tipping her head back so she could look at him. She knew he went back to thinking about Ravyn since Ravyn was the only one they’d heard who’d gotten herself connected, in some way, to a Vampire—well besides her aunt. But her aunt wouldn’t be bringing one back anywhere….

“Do you really think she would?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know why she would?” he said.

Morgan nodded. “Doesn’t he have to stay in special places or something,” she teased.

He glanced down at her. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I don’t think so.”

She frowned, serious now. “Well, we can’t invite him to the manor,” she said. “I’ve heard that once you invite them in….”

Alex grinned at that. “Afraid?” he asked.

She laughed, then half sat up, looking up at him. “Aren’t you? He’s a Vampire,” she said.

He continued to smile at her. “So, you can invite Gargoyles, but not Vampires?” he said, teasing.

She wrinkled her nose at him. She didn’t see where to begin with that. But she wasn’t allowing that Vampire into the manor.

When the rain slowed its endless beating on the buildings outside, Alex got up to look out the window. “If we’re ever going to make a dash for it,” he said, “now would be the time.”

Morgan made a face. She didn’t look forward to that, but she went to put on the light jacket she’d brought, and they headed outside into the drizzle.

They walked fast, the first few blocks, but as they got within sight of the manor, the heavens opened to dump on them, and they had to run for it. By the time they’d made it through the door, they were drenched. They went up the stairs to their room, leaving wet footprints in their wake, made love and took a shower. As they lay on the bed, listening to the rain, Morgan thought about the attic.

A storm’s the perfect time to do magick, she thought. She got up, giving Alex a sweet kiss and told him that she headed upstairs.

When she got there, she turned on the little lights, lining the walls. She dug out a cauldron and put it on a hot plate. She dug out some mugwort and spent the next hour working on a salve for meditation. Then, lighting a candle, and sitting before the altar, she put the flying ointment on her third eye, and crossing her legs, she sat there on the floor in front of the circle of couches and overstuffed chairs, quietly staring into the flame.

Morgan loved the energy of fire. She knew some found it overpowering, but she found it relaxing. It felt—protective.

After a time, she’d sunk deeply into a trance, staring at the dark, backdrop of a blank screen, waiting. After sometime, and with a lot of concentration, she finally began to relax—when Alex’s face flew before her—jolting her.

She backed up against the chair, horrified.

It had been him—alright—but it hadn’t been him at all….