"Before our next circle," Hunter went on, "I'd like all of you to do some more reading about Beltane." He listed some useful sources, then said, "Now, if there's nothing else, we can cast our circle."

We stepped forward. Hunter quickly and expertly drew a perfect circle on the slates with a piece of chalk. We went on through the opening he'd left in it, and then he closed it behind us. We'd set up four bowls, one each at east, north, west, and south. They held dirt, to symbolize earth, a smoldering incense cone to symbolize air, a candle for fire, and water. With the four elements represented, our energy would be balanced.

The twelve of us joined hands, and Hunter said, "I invoke the Goddess. I invoke the God. I invite them to join us at this our circle. Tonight we celebrate being together, being at the threshold of spring. As we raise the Goddess's energy, we'll think about our own renewals, rebirths. Now, everyone can join in when they're ready." We began to move our circle deasil, or clockwise, as Hunter began singing a familiar power chant.

One by one we blended our voices with his, letting the words weave together. I waited for just a few moments, and then it happened, as it always did: I felt a burst of happiness, of joy. I knew who I was, I knew what I was doing. I was joining my energy with that of others, and it was an incredible experience.

As we moved more quickly, our feet keeping pace with the complex, ancient rhythm, I gradually began to be aware of another thread of sound underneath the one we were singing. It was inside my head, coming from within, and I followed it like a colored string, trying to untangle it. It was elusive, not complete, and I couldn't seem to get closer to it. Sometimes it seemed vaguely familiar, but I just couldn't place where I'd ever heard it. Still, I moved with the others in a circle, one part of my mind focused on the thread. Vague images came to me: when my half brother Killian had used a hawk's true name to force it to earth and also, weirdly, when my biological father, Ciaran MacEwan, had initiated me into the racking pains and heady pleasures of shape-shifting. But these thoughts drifted away like clouds, and soon my mind was full of the excitement of our raised energy. My heart felt both full and light, my vision seemed exceptionally clear-I could see the faint, colorful auras shimmering around my friends' heads. Being part of a circle was like plugging myself into a higher consciousness, a higher reality. It was completely fulfilling.

Our pace quickened, and our chanting swelled to bursting. Our joined energy rose and crested, and at the peak of its crescendo we flung our hands apart and stopped where we were. Smiles on our faces, our hands floating downward, we looked around to enjoy the looks of transport on one another's faces.

My gaze locked on Hunter, on his angular, fair-skinned face, his sharp cheekbones, the amazing depth of his eyes. His cheeks were flushed with a pale pink, like dawn breaking. His eyes met mine, and between us there flashed an instant understanding, an immediate message of love sent and received. I smiled, and he returned it.

"That was a great circle, everyone," he said, assuming his leadership role again. "I can see a definite improvement in your focus and concentration."

I remembered the elusive tune and the strange images I'd seen in the circle. Why had I thought of shape-shifting again? Was the Goddess trying to tell me something? Or was it just that now that we were out of immediate danger, my mind was really beginning to deal with those images? Probably the latter, I decided. There had been no new or scary information in the images.

"I've got some food and stuff in the kitchen," Bree said, brushing her fine hair off her face. "Robbie and I will get it."

Hunter drifted over to me as they left, and automatically our arms went around each other's waist. He kissed the top of my head, and I shivered. All thoughts of the elusive tune I'd heard had disappeared. I'd meant to mention the strange dream I'd had to Hunter but decided not to. Everyone has weird dreams sometimes.

"What about here? I asked. "No rocks, a mixture of sun and shade, nice view." The picnic basket was starting to feel heavy-I was ready to sit and eat and lie in the sun.

"This looks good," Morgan agreed, nodding.

"Okay by me," said Robbie.

For a moment it looked like Bree might object, but then she followed majority rule. She and Morgan unfolded an old blanket and shook it out.

"Goddess, what a beautiful day," Morgan said, immediately lying down in the blanket in a way that made me wish Robbie and Bree weren't there. I wanted to touch her, feel the smooth skin of her stomach. Well, nothing I could do about it yet.

By unspoken agreement the four of us ended up on our backs, looking up at the intensely blue spring sky and the puffy white clouds slipping past.

"This is great," Robbie said.

"Mmm," Bree murmured in agreement. "Oh, Morgan, did I tell you? That B and B on Martha's Vineyard worked out."

"Hey, great," Morgan said. "When are you guys going?"

"The end of June," Robbie said. "Just for a week. I don't think I'll be able to get more time off from the shop." Robbie had gotten a summer job at Widow's Vale's tiny used-book store.

Using my lightning-fast former Seeker intuition, I deduced that Bree and Robbie were going to Martha's Vineyard together for a week later in the summer. A quiet envy settled across me. I would kill to have that kind of alone with Morgan. Sometimes I wished her father were more like Bree's father-rather absent and not entirely aware of what she did. I knew that Morgan's intensely caring and involved parents were, in general, a much better thing. But sometimes…

"That sounds so great," Morgan said. "I'm probably going to be working at my mom's office all summer. Data entry, filing, et cetera. Making coffee. Yawn." Her mom was a real estate agent, and I knew Morgan often worked for her when she needed money.

"At least you'll be in air-conditioning," Bree pointed out. "Which reminds me-speaking of being chilly-I was reading about Beltane this morning, and it seems that many covens feel the Beltane rites are best done skyclad. Like the fertility rites, the dances. The maypole."

"Skyclad?" Robbie asked. "What does that-oh."

Bree giggled and crossed one of her legs over Robbie's.

"I'm so sure," Morgan said, rolling her eyes. "Count me out."

Trying not to laugh, I said, "I don' know, Morgan. I believe that if we're going to be historically accurate, Kithic should celebrate Beltane authentically. I imagine it would be all right if not everyone has sex under the moon, but the nudity…pfaw!" I stopped to spit some grass, which Morgan had been flinging at me, out of my mouth and held up my hands to ward off any further attacks.

"Very funny," said Morgan, throwing more grass. I half sat to brush it off and saw that her face was flushed with self-consciousness. I grinned at her. In public she was fairly reserved, and she certainly didn't dress to show off her body. But in private…we had been together enough for me to know that her physical desire and innate sensuality ran as strong in her as her magickal powers did. And I had been the lucky recipient of those feelings. I hoped that soon we would be ready to take those feelings to their natural conclusion.

"Right, then," I said, lying back down and grabbing Morgan's hand. I held her hand on my chest and felt her relax against me, her foot resting against my ankle. "So I'll go ahead and inform the coven that nudity and public sex are optional."

Robbie snorted with laughter, and Bree told him, "You can strip down first."

I was happy, lying there in the sun and dappled shade. It felt normal, natural, light. I hoped that the rest of the year would be more like this and that the darkness we'd been facing had finally gone for good.