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Tears of the Goddess: Celeste
by Foenixfyre
Chapter Twelve
“Celly, have you restored your personal wards?” Miri entered Celly's room to find the younger woman awake and lying, still fully clothed, on her bed. She placed the tray she carried on the bedside table and ran a hand over Celly's long hair.
“Um, no. Not yet. All I've done so far is knock myself out a few times, freeze a cup of coffee, and read over most of my old notes.” Celly raised her head and peered over at the tray. Miri had brought her a pot of tea and a thick sandwich. “That smells really good. Did Delia make it?”
“No, I did. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself in the kitchen, unlike some academic airheads I know. No mayonnaise, right?”
Celly turned and stared at the unusually acerbic tone in Miri's voice. “Uh, thanks, I think. Miri, what's wrong?” She sat up and reached over for the tray, suddenly hungry.
“Celly, those wards are your shields against the rest of the world. They're so very, very important. Weren't they the first thing your mother taught you?”
The younger woman shrugged and poured herself a cup of the herbal tea. “Well, actually, she wanted to give us a solid grounding on the theoretical aspects first. Do you want some of this? I'm not going to be able to drink it all myself.”
She wilted under Miri's steely stare. “Okay, yes. Personal wards were the first piece of practical application that Mom let us try. And I remember her as being pretty insistent that we get them right.”
“And why do you think that was?”
Celly sighed and recited her own notes from memory. “Personal wards protect an individual from outside interference. Without them, an unscrupulous witch or warlock can infiltrate your mind and personal energies and influence your very thoughts and actions. It's also possible for you to unintentionally interfere with someone else.”
Miri reached over and took a sip from Celly's tea cup. “And you receive an A on that little pop quiz. So why haven't you restored your wards?”
Now Celly shifted uncomfortably. “I didn't feel ready to try any magic yet. And, Miri, I did just fine all those years without them. I didn't think it would hurt for me to hold off a few days.”
It was Miri's turn to sigh, and she did so, sitting down beside her friend and pulling off a sandwich crust to nibble. “For all of those years, you had closed yourself off from your magic. It still wasn't wise, let me tell you, but you were able to get away with it because you had made yourself deaf and blind to all of the energies around you. Someone would have needed to be searching, specifically, to find your energy aura, and even then it would have required a major magical act to influence you. But you've opened back up, completely, and broken down the mental walls you'd built around your magic. Without those wards, you've made yourself into a . . .” She searched for a proper metaphor. “Into a walking power tap. You've made it possible for someone with the know-how and enough of a magical kick to tap right into your powers.”
Celly paled. “I hadn't thought about it that way. But what brought this up?”
“What do you know about that Winters character from this afternoon?”
Celly frowned. “Not that much. We accidentally bumped into each other a few days ago. He made me drop my groceries. Um, he said he was a professional photographer, on sabbatical for a project of his. And when he was here earlier, he said it took him a while to realize who I was, but he's read several of my books. Did you feel something off about him?”
It was Miri's turn to frown and shake her head, soft brown hair flying with the motion. “I just don't know. He left too quickly for me to get a good feel for him. But Celly, I don't think your little episode was the result of simply forgetting to eat. Just in case, you need to get those shields up, pronto.”
“When you put it that way . . .” Standing, Celly tore off a large bite of the sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “I suppose my nap can wait. I'm doing this in my Work Room. The wards in there should still be at nearly full strength, unless Helen actually listened to me for once and took them down.”
“No, she re-enforced them every year, right along with her own.” Miri slid off of the bed and followed the tall blond down the hallway.
“Okay, then.” Celly let them both into the room, and resisted a small shiver. “You probably think I'm silly, but I'm really nervous about this.”
“Not at all. This will be your first major, and deliberate, magical undertaking in several years. We know at this point that you can still sense and manipulate energy.” Miri stopped and stood in the center of the room, hands fisted upon slender hips. “Your current difficulty is in re-learning to control all of that energy. You wouldn't use a sledgehammer to swat a housefly, right? The same principle applies to the Craft.”
“What if it was a really, really big fly?” Celly asked impishly. She had crossed over to the table, and currently leaned over it, leafing through her notebooks for any last-minute hints that might apply to wards.
“You're stalling, Celly.” Miri joined her at the table and sat, closing the notebook and folding her hands. “You won't know if you're still capable of this until you try it. I believe that you're more then capable.”
“You're right. I just wish I felt as confident in my abilities as you seem to.” Celly took a deep breath and took up a comfortable stance at the Room's center. She fumbled for, found, and activated the dormant energy lines that controlled the Room's general wards. Shields sprang up, visible to the Gifted eye as faint walls of light. The color was still predominantly Celly's rose, but echoes of Helen's darker scarlet could be seen, like hints of supporting shadows.
“She maintained them as carefully as she did her own," Miri murmured quietly. “Shields and the like usually fade away after their creator's death. But she tied her magic in with the remnants of yours very carefully.”
“I miss her, Miri. I should have-”
“Hush. Continue with your work. There's no place for doubts and worries here. Focus on the energy around you, within you.”
Being able to activate the wards of the Work Room had given Celly an unexpected boost of confidence. Now she reached deep within herself, to the center of the power that fueled her magical Gifts. She could remember it well from her youth, and had always pictured it as a lively well of energy that bubbled and rippled and lapped against the sides of its confinements. It reminded her of a meditation pool she had once seen in Tibet while on a lecture tour.
Now, however, this pool was still and dark. It looked so cold and abandoned, and Celly had to bite back a small groan. How could she have forgotten this? Locked it away? The magic was almost another living entity, sharing her body. Perhaps she'd had no right to abandon it.
Very good, Celly. Now tap into that well of power. You'll be tying your wards into it, so that you won't need to constantly reinforce them.
Surprised out of her reverie by Miri's mental voice, Celly blinked back into normal sight and looked over. Miri sat calmly at the table, surrounded by an aura of soft green.
Don't be shocked, darling. I'm simply monitoring you, the way I'm sure your mother used to, even if she didn't tell you. My own wards should keep me safe from anything you do accidentally.
Celly shrugged, comforted by the older woman's words, and focused upon drawing a single thin line of energy from her center. As she worked, the pool began to ripple with life once again.
It's so lovely.
Yes. I'm glad you're starting to remember that.
She slowly filled herself with the power, until there was a slight rosy glow emanating from her body. Painstakingly, she pushed that shell outward, until it covered her skin, a private shield against the outside world. Celly immediately felt warm, as though a loved one had just wrapped her within a soft blanket.
What once had been instinctive was now difficult work. The wards shook, faltered, strengthened, and faltered again. Celly gritted her teeth and forced the shell of energy to stay, until it finally trembled once more, and stood solidly.
Excellent work, Celly. She could feel Miri probing at the wards with her own powers, pushing here and there in search of weakness. She reacted by allowing the shields to bend inward, absorbing the probe's strength without actually weakening.
Helen and I used to try and break each others' shields while at school. It was a good exercise, especially since we weren't in the same buildings and it took a lot of concentration. Definitely a lot more fun then Intro Algebra. I thought it was just a game then.
It was a good exercise, either way. And I think you'll find that holding the wards will become instinctive again very quickly. Think you're done for now?
Celly opened her eyes once again, and in doing so returned to the normal world. “Let me just tie the wards in, so that my Gift will sustain them without any conscious effort on my part.”
Miri stood, a wide smile on her gentle face. “Very good, Celly. You've remembered everything perfectly.” In a show of her own trust in Celly's control, she dropped her own sage-green shield and walked forward to embrace the younger blond.
Celly grasped Miri's hands tightly, and returned quickly to the inner pool of energy. It had not yet returned to the lively circle she pictured from her youth, but it no longer looked so cold and forbidding. Miri was right; it was much easier this time to draw a strand of power out and link it in to her shields. Still not quite as quick as she once might have been . . .
But it was no longer a terrifying effort.
As soon as she sensed that Celly had tied in her wards, Miri stepped back. Her eyes were a bit concerned, and they scanned Celly's face, searching for something. “How do you feel, sweetie?”
On a heavy breath, Celly dropped to the floor right where she had stood. “It's exhilarating. And exhausting. I feel like I just moved an entire mountain range by myself, but I had a great time doing it.”
Miri nodded, and her expression cleared. It was exactly how a good spell-casting should feel.
“So, now that I'm don't can you bring that sandwich in here? I'm starving.” She also had no intention of moving from her comfortable spot on the nice, smooth floor for the next several minutes.
“Oh, surely you're not that drained?” Miri stood up with a smile and moved toward the door despite her words. “Not the magical powerhouse that Helen used to rave about?”
Since she was outside the room, Celly sent a mental image of placing thumbs in her ears and sticking her tongue out. The skill of speaking and sending mentally, she realized, had returned to her much more easily then spell-casting. Odd, when it had been the more difficult skill as a child. And she really did feel tired.
But drained or not, she had actually conquered the first step toward reclaiming her Gift. And it felt really good.
Holding the phone to his ear, he paced the office, listening to the ring. Finally, someone picked up on the other end of the line.
“Vanderholt Enterprises. This is Lilith Vanderholt speaking.” Her voice was a low purr, just as he remembered. Intertwined coils of lust and disgust tightened in the pit of his stomach, and he stood still, silently thumping his fist against the surface of his desk.
“Damn it, Lilith, what are you up to?”
“Jack?” She almost managed to completely hide the surprise in her voice. A soft laugh followed. “Why, Jack. darling, it's been positively ages. What have you been up to lately?”
“I think you know. Stop playing games with me, Lilith. I want you to keep that perfect little nose of yours out of my business, and away from Delphi.” Jack started to pace again, needing to do something with the angry, manic energy building inside of him.
“Oh, Jack. I have no idea what you're talking about.” Lilith laughed lightly.
He could picture her perfectly. The ice queen, from the tips of her Italian shoes to the crown of her perfectly styled hair, ruling her financial empire from behind the large desk of her ex-husband. “The legend, Lilith. The gems. Your energy signature was all over my Work Circle. I know you were trying to watch us last night. But whatever you have up your sleeve isn't going to work.”
Lilith sighed. The sound was that of a teacher disappointed in her favorite student. “Jack, are you still busy with your little treasure hunts? I'm really rather put out, seeing as I did offer you quite the opportunity with my own company. Remember that stone circle in northern Scotland? You really did miss out there.”
His hand tightened on the phone. “Bitch.”
Her laugh carried throatily. “Not at all, darling. I just happen to be better funded, and I have a much stronger staff. The better team always wins out, you know.”
“Not better, Lilith. Your people simply have no compunctions about lying, stealing, or hurting anyone in their way. I refuse to be a part of that.”
“Oh, yes. I had forgotten that rather squeamish side of your personality. You always were rather weak-minded, Jack. I simply aim to win.”
Jack clenched and unclenched his hands. Across the room, a pane of glass in the window cracked with a sharp pop as his powers spiked in tune with his temper. Stupid, he told himself. Stupid to let her upset him like this. Struggling for control of his Gift, he reached into his wallet. The picture of Celly that he pulled out was old and grainy, but it helped to focus him, and always had ever since he had clipped it from a newspaper years ago.
Stupid to keep a picture or his ex, of the woman he had thrown away.
But not nearly as stupid as getting involved with a snake like Lilith.
“I don't care what you think, Lilith. But if you set foot in Delphi, if you send any of your little flunkies after any of my people, I'll come after you. I'll make you pay.”
There was an edge to Lilith's laugh this time. “Always so serious, darling. As I recall, you made several empty ultimatums the last time we . . . brushed shoulders. That little idol you found proved to be quite useful, despite your protests. But I suspect that your threats right now will prove just as inconsequential.”
“Push me, and you'll find out just how consequential they are.” Unable to bandy words any longer, he took the phone away from his ear and hit the “end” button, then placed the phone carefully back in its cradle on the desk. Calmer now, Jack stepped over to the window and drew a line along the crack with his bare finger. The broken glass smoothed itself into an unmarred surface after his motion.
Despite the lessoned level of anger, his stomach was still roiling, his head pounding, just as they always did when he thought about Lilith.
With a quiet growl, he yanked the phone up again and dialed again.
“Yes?”
“We've got a problem, Delia. Are Celly and Miri there?”
The housekeeper huffed on the other end of the line. “Don't see why everyone's in such a rush today. Yes, they're here. But they're up in Celly's Work Room, and damned if I know what those girls are doing. “I've got no intention of bothering them.”
Jack had to wince. “No, uh, no, that's just fine. I'll bring everyone over first thing tomorrow morning. That okay with you?”
“I suppose you'll want breakfast for that team of walking stomachs you cart around with you.” Jack opened his mouth, but Delia drove on regardless of any protest he might make. “They'll eat what I give 'em, and no special requests. Is that clear enough?”
Despite his black mood, Jack managed to dredge up a genuine chuckle. “That's what I love most about you, Delia. Your boundless good will and generosity towards all mankind.”
“And don't you forget it.”
When he hung up, Jack was somehow in a much better mood.
Placing a single manicured hand against her desk, she pushed away from the heavy oak piece, and turned to stare over the rest of her large office. The entire room, as well as the adjoining powder room and bedroom, was papered in stark white. All of the furniture was of the same hue, as well as the carpet that was vacuumed and cleaned every weekend. The only color in the room came from the oak desk and various objects d'art. Each had been carefully selected and placed by Lilith herself. And most had been removed from the hands of some less worthy individual.
Lilith Vanderholt came from money. She had gained even more from the two husbands she had chosen and pursued, then divorced once she was bored with them. Her own company, started by her mother's father, was a major power of Wall Street, and brought in further millions every year for her own personal use.
There were very few resources not available for that personal use, and people were no different. They were tools, to be used up and tossed aside.
Which is why it infuriated her that Jackson Grant had managed to slip out between her high-class fingers.
At their first introduction, Lilith had decided that he would be the perfect candidate for her next husband. After all, he was incredibly handsome, cultured, a trust-fund baby with a very healthy portfolio . . .
And his Gift was the center of his life. He even used it to track down magical artifacts, legends, and other such useful objects.
Quite perfect, really.
So, Jack's change of mind when he had discovered some of her more . . . secretive activities had been quote unacceptable. Rejection was not to be tolerated, and firmly punished when it occasionally happened.
Lilith curled one hand into an annoyed fist, nails the color of blood digging into her smooth palm, and rose. She crossed the room swiftly, and brushed a finger against a small stone idol in passing; it was the artifact she had mentioned to Jack, the one she had removed from his possession at their last face-to-face meeting. To think that he had wanted to place it in a dusty museum, where its stores of power would be inaccessible to those deserving of it.
Ridiculous. And so very, very wasteful.
And he had actually tried to face her down!
The memory made the corners of Lilith's lips curve upwards, and pushed her fury back a step or two. Turning, she glanced at herself in one of the full-length mirrors strewn throughout the suite. She knew the expression on that perfect mouth, painted the same exact shade as her bloody nails, was cruel, and it only pleased her all the more.
There was a knock at the door. “Enter,” she called, her eyes not moving from her reflection.
A woman opened the door. “The group from Denson, Ltd. is here for your 4 o'clock. I told them that they were twenty minutes early, but they insisted . . .”
Glancing at the platinum watch clasped around one wrist, Lilith nodded. “Show them to the conference room, Eileen. Don't offer them any coffee or water, and let them sit there. I'll be out shortly.” The woman nodded quickly and ducked out, and Lilith smiled again. Another company to buy, and gut, and transform into another money-maker for Vanderholt Enterprises.
She returned to her desk to get the files she would need. Her secretary would return and wait outside her private office with one that was more extensive, but Lilith preferred keeping her own intelligence. There was much less chance that way of someone fucking up.
Pulling the file from its place in her organized cabinet, her eye fell upon a second. This one was far more important to her, and one that no one else would likely ever see, or understand, for that matter. Lilith looked over at the phone. The team she had called up would require some time to establish themselves before moving in. For the time being, she would really have to remember to keep a close eye on her agent in Delphi. Although carefully selected and screened, she knew all too well that individuals, especially male individuals, were incompetent at heart.
Mark Winters, as he was currently calling himself, would do for now.
And if he ruined her plans, well . . .
Accidents were always easy to arrange.
Satisfied that her plans for Celeste Morin, Jackson Grant, and the other Gifted inhabitants of Delphi, Massachusetts, were still solid, Lilith Vanderholt retouched her lipstick and walked confidently out of her office,
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