The Firehills Read Online Free

Life and Death?”
    “I do.”
    “Will you serve the Goddess
    And reverence the God?”
    “I will.”
    “Will you guard that which is shown you
    From the unworthy?”
    “I will.”
    Finally, Mrs. P. made the sign of the five-pointed
pentacle with her wand and said, “In the name of the Lady and those
covenanted to her, I place this threefold charge upon you: to know the Goddess
and the God; to love the Goddess and Her Consort; and, through knowledge of the
Way, to serve the Goddess and the Horned One. Do you”—and again she used
Charly’s secret name—“freely accept the charge?”
    “I do.”
    “So be it. Blessed be and welcome, dear friend.”
    After Charly had embraced her mother and Mrs. P., she
stepped back, grinning. “So, is that it, then?” she asked.
    “I’m initiated?”
    Megan dabbed away a tear from the corner of her eye.
    “Yes, sweetie. You’ve taken your first step along the
Path. I’m so proud—” Her voice broke and she looked away.
    “Mu-um,” sighed Charly, looking embarrassed.
    “Come on,” said Mrs. P. “We should be getting back.
It’s nearly dark, and your friend Sam will be arriving soon.”

    ‡

    Closing the door of her room, Charly flopped down on the
creaky old bed and threw open her case. Rummaging frantically, she found her hairbrush and ran over to the
mirror. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and her mother’s
voice shouted, “Charly! He’s here!”
    Charly yanked open the door with surprising speed and
looking slightly flushed, stumbled out. Megan looked her up and down. “Your
hair looks nice,” she said with one eyebrow raised.
    “Mu-um!” groaned Charly, but one hand moved
involuntarily to her newly plaited braid. Together, they clattered down the
stairs and into the lobby.
    “Sam!” cried Megan as she spied a familiar figure at
the small reception desk. She gave him a peck on the cheek before turning to
his father. “Paul. Good to see you again.”
    They shook hands, Sam’s father glancing around
sheepishly.
    “Er, thanks for having him, Megan. Hope he won’t be
any trouble.” He cast a sharp look in Sam’s direction.
    “Look, I’d better be off. I’ll pick him up on
Monday, OK?
    Around seven?”
    “That will be fine. We’ll see you then.”
    With a look of obvious relief, Sam’s father headed for
the door. He liked Megan and Charly, but the whole subject of last year’s
holiday in Dorset made him intensely uncomfortable. Try as he might, he
couldn’t remember anything after the first couple of days. He and his wife
had come to an unspoken agreement. The subject of Dorset was not discussed.
Frowning, he jumped back into the car and drove away.
    In the street outside the guesthouse, a dust devil sprang
up. Candy wrappers and cigarette ends danced briefly in the air and then, as if invisible strings had been
severed, dropped to the ground.
    ‡

    “So,” began Megan, “how are you?” She took a step
back and looked Sam up and down. Sam, remembering her ability to read auras,
felt nervous.
    “Yes,” he stammered, “good. I’m fine. How are
you?” he finished with a forced smile.
    “We’re fine. Aren’t we, Charly?”
    Charly was lurking somewhere behind her mother and had
turned slightly pink.
    “Hi, Sam,” she said, trying to look uninterested.
    “Well,” continued Megan, “you two must have a lot of
catching up to do. I’ll be off. I’ll send Amergin down.”
    And with that, she clattered back up the stairs. Silence
descended.
    “So,” began Charly after a while, “you’re OK,
then?”
    “Mmm. Yeah. You?”
    “Good.”
    Silence returned once more.
    “Look,” said Charly, “there’s a little sort of
lounge thing just over here. Let’s go and sit in there. You can take your bag
up to the room later.” With that, she turned and marched off through a nearby
doorway.
    With a sigh, Sam put down his bag and followed. He found
Charly curled in an old armchair, a hideous thing with bowed wooden legs