The Immortals

Once the circle was cast, Raven stepped inside, bade his coven to follow suit. When they were secure, he called the corners, using his athame to trace specific angled pentades in the air, each slightly different, depending on the corner he was calling.

“All hail to the element of air, Watch tower of the East. May you stand in strength and bless our prayers. Powers of the air, we summon you to join our circle.” He turned to his right and drew in the air again, forceful slashes, purposeful. Practiced.

“All hail the element of fire, Watchtower of the South.

May you stand in strength and bless our prayers. Powers of fire, we summon you to protect our circle.”

He turned again, and again. “All hail to the element of water, Watchtower of the West. May you stand in strength and bless our prayers. Power of water, we summon you to guard our circle.

“All hail to the element of earth, Watchtower of the North. May you stand in strength and bless our prayers. Powers of earth, we summon you to provide us guidance and success in our ministrations.”

The calls complete, Raven reached into the bag next to him and sprinkled the magickally charged earth they’d taken at the last new moon around the circle in a slow dribble. This would open the portal between the two worlds while keeping them safely grounded in the now.

“May the Goddess and the God look upon us in favor. All hail the Goddess. All hail the God.”

The group spoke in turn. ‘“All hail the Goddess. All hail the God.”

He kissed the blade of his athame, the others followed suit. Then they took up their cords, intertwining them, feeding them through each other’s hands until they were bound together. Raven caught each eye, nodding slightly. It was time to call Azrael. Time for their reward.

They pushed their personal energy into the earth, grounding, then reversed, bringing the earth’s power into their bodies. The force of it made them shiver. With their hands facing into the circle, they directed their power to the center and created an invisible cone, then walked widdershins, counter-clockwise, three times, pushing that energy down, toward their goal, ending back in their original spots. There was great danger in casting a widdershins circle, but Raven had assured them that the best, most direct route to Azrsel was through a negative portal, downward, not upward to the light. Besides, they were guarded by the four Watchtowers and the God and Goddess. He was confident they were safe.

He reached behind him and withdrew a small finger bone from his bag. Death liked bones-it was the soul’s truest form. Death understood that he was a part of all natural life.

The four of them turned to face the west, and Raven carefully, gently laid the finger bone in the dirt beside their stones. They breathed slowly, modulating their breath to match their partner, calming and balancing their energy. Deeper breaths now, with pauses in between to help them overoxygenate their blood and raise their consciousness. Raven could tell when they were all perfectly attuned, and he began to chant. The others followed a fraction of a second later. Their voices carried through the graveyard.

Azrael Azrael Az-rah-el.

Azrael Azrael Az-rah-el.

Azrael Azrael Azzzz-raaaah-elllll.

Angel of darkness, come bless us.

Angel of darkness, come bend us.

Angel of darkness, bring our true natures to the fore.

Bring us your power, and a sign of your blessing. We call to you, O ancient one, who dwells beyond the realms.

You who once reigned in the time before time. Come, hear our call.

Assist us to open the way, give us the power!

They repeated the poem three times, building into a tuneless chant.

Then Raven spoke, his arms spread wide, his head thrown back. “Bless us for finding the strength to rid the world of those who hurt us, who deceived and tortured. Fight our oppressors-punish those who are cruel to us. Allow us to know your divinity, to understand your ways, to find a painless path to keep us from shame. Show us the way, oh, AzrceL Night and need give life to your helping fire. Rectify our darkness, spread your wings of shadow through our souls. Watch over our houses, deflect their ire.”

At the end, they repeated their nocturnal God’s name over and over and over, turning in circles, winding themselves around each other, sinuous as snakes, then at the moment they felt the energy peak, consecrated their prayers with the Great Act. Raven and Thorn were so attuned to each other that they were able to climax at the same time. Their energy, like their seed, spilled into the earth, sanctifying their pact. The girls kissed, and the boys. They smeared the fluids along each other’s bodies, intricate glowing trails of symbols, then switched partners. The men writhed together while the women brought each other to a wild, breathless climax. They were all so good together, so right. The strongest magick was cast during the Great Act at the moment of shared orgasm.

Panting in the dust, they allowed their minds to come back. They stood, shakily, and unbound their cords. Raven thanked the corners, bid them hail and farewell. He closed the circle, careful to walk deosil, clockwise, to close their downward portal.

There was still energy in the air, crisp and crackling, so Raven told his coven to ground again so it wouldn’t drain their essences. Raven shut his eyes and envisioned a long, glowing root leaving his body and securing itself in the land, then let all his extra energy pour down the root. He felt better when he finished, smiled at Fane. They busied themselves with ending their prayers, burying the stone and the finger, blowing out the candles, dressing silently.

A breeze started, getting stronger until their hair was whipping around their faces. Thunder rumbled in the distance, then again, and lightning flashed, suddenly close. The sharp scent of ozone invaded Raven’s nose. He smiled.

“I didn’t think it was going to rain tonight,” Fane whispered.

“It wasn’t. Azrsel has blessed our prayers,” Raven said. “We have been blessed. Nothing can stop us now.”

Five

Nashville

7:50 p.m.

Baldwin circled the Vanderwoods’ house until he found a quiet spot in the backyard. “Sorry about that, Garrett. Needed to get clear of a situation. What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t have good news. The crypto boys sent a report in about some things they found on Charlotte Douglas’s computer.”

Baldwin stood straighter. Charlotte Douglas was a pro-filer he’d worked with years ago, and again just a few months back, on the Snow White case. She’d ended up embarrassing the Bureau before her untimely demise at the hands of a killer she’d recruited into her life-the same killer who stalked Taylor now. The Pretender was Charlotte’s creation, first an apprentice of the Snow White, then a self-named terror who’d invaded all of their lives.

Charlotte had brought death to their doors, and now it sounded like the Bureau was resurrecting the past. He held out hope that Charlotte’s records would help identify who the Pretender reallv was. But when she died, and the Bureau tried accessing her files, they self-destructed using a sophisticated encryption. Their best people had been working for months to resuscitate her work.