The Conjure Book

by A. A. Attanasio

  “Can we do that?” Jane asked the witch hopefully.

  “Bait shall be required.” Hyssop Joan rubbed her warty jaw contemplatively. “Trick E yearns to deprive the world of our good conjure book. Should some mortal soul with conjure book in hand lure the nefarious spirit fox into the ‘hole in the knoll,’ we shall have amulets and magical powders prepared to catch and trap him there for ages yet to come.” Hyssop Joan’s mouth bent upward in a contorted smile. “Let us set our trap with that vulgar monkey Alfred.”

  “No way.” Jane shook her head adamantly. “I don’t want my friends to be any part of this.”

  “Ah, my pretty, that is an unhappy restriction.” Hyssop Joan hung her head glumly. “Deprived of thy friends’ help, thou must thyself serve as lure, Jane. And what dire service to be the courageous one who guides Trick E’s clawed step to our subterranean trap!”

  “That is awful dangerous, old Hyssop, don’t you think?” Jeoffry’s pointy ears flicked nervously. “It’s a deuce of a risk, I say. We must provide our beloved Jane with some mighty protection before we put her up against that nasty creature.”

  “Trick E is a spirit fox,” Hyssop Joan answered thoughtfully. “As an animal spirit, he is subject to the powers of nature. And so, we must seek recourse amongst the faerïe!”

  “The faerïe?” Jeoffry squawked. “It would be safer to request protection from Beelzebub!”

  “Daft cat.” The witch squinted with annoyance. “The faerïe alone possess authority and agency to nullify Trick E’s malign purpose and spare Jane the fox’s fell claw.”

  “I’m bound to say, Hyssop J, that is the most enormously goosy idea ever to issue forth from your decomposed brain!” Jeoffry pounced onto the desk and batted the mouse so that the screen went blank. “You’d be a perfect chump, miss, to listen any further to the absurd rattlings of that old bonebag.”

  The monitor immediately winkled on again. “How dare thee disrupt my earnest entreaty, thou lowbred creature!”

  “Stop bickering, you two!” Jane picked up Jeoffry and tossed him onto the bed. “Help me figure this out — calmly.”

  “Aye, employ reason not fear!” The witch glared at Jeoffry, then turned an urgent look upon Jane. “Appeal to the faerïe!”

  “Fairies?” Jane passed her agitated gaze from the witch to the familiar and back again. “What fairies? What are you talking about?”

  “Trick E and his minions serve the faerïe,” Hyssop Joan explained. “The faerïe are the most ancient and tutelary creatures of the Earth.”

  “By tutelary, young miss, this antique witch here means ‘guardian.’” Jeoffry hopped back onto the desk and sat with his back to the monitor, blocking the screen, the better to command Jane’s full attention. “The faerïe are the guardian spirits of nature. They have power over Trick E and all creatures, including witches. However, the faerïe are no friends of civilization. They’re enraged at people for tearing down the forests and poisoning the air and the water. In their eyes, miss, you’ve got horns, a trident and a long barbed tail.”

  “Pay no heed to this creature’s misgivings.” Hyssop Joan’s wrinkled face peered over Jeoffry’s head. “The faerïe serve those who serve them, Jane Girl. Offer thy friendship and kindly service to the faerïe, and they shall protect thee from Trick E.”

  Jane bent forward and put a hand under Jeoffry’s jaw, holding him still and staring into his oblique eyes. “Is this really true, Jeoffry? Will these faerïe accept my friendship and protect me from the spirit fox?”

  “The faerïe are not to be trifled with, miss.” Jeoffry shook his head free of Jane’s grip. “They are indeed powerful, but their friendship is not easily won.”

  Jane considered this.

  She turned her attention to Hyssop Joan. “What do I have to do to make friends with the faerïe?”

  “Go to them, Girl Jane.” The old witch closed one eye knowingly. “Seek them by night in the forest and…” She tapped her nose with a crooked finger. “Trust thy instincts.”

  “Gadzooks, Joan!” Jeoffry stopped rubbing the fur under his jaw where Jane had grabbed him and glowered at the monitor. “You are introducing this poor child to a Mount Everest of trouble!”

  Before Hyssop Joan could reply, Jane stroked the back of Jeoffry’s head. “I’m sorry to disagree with you, Jeoffry. But I want to get this witchcraft stuff over with as quickly as possible so I can see my mother. You better not be lying about her coming back. If it’s true that I can see her again and these faerïe can help me, I’ll go to them.”

  Jeoffry mewed ruefully. “Ah, young miss. I am grieved to hear you say that. You shall of a certainty regret this decision. Please, reconsider.”

  “What alternatives shall thee offer our brave Jane?” Hyssop Joan’s nose squashed up against the monitor screen, flat and pale as a slug. “Shalt thou, intrepid feline, do battle with Trick E when he discovers our alliance with Jane?”

  Jeoffry lay down beside the keyboard and rested his head on his crossed paws. “I’d rather have nothing at all to do with Trick E — or the faerïe. I had hoped we might devise some clever trap of our own for the wily beast. Alas, no light bulbs flash overhead just yet. Though I’m sure a veritable marquee of ideas shall illuminate our brains if we but take the time...”

  “Time?” The witch cackled ominously. “How long before that evil fox sniffs us out? Surprise tenants my heart that he has not yet attacked.”

  “A spine-chilling thought, Joan.” Jeoffry shivered. “Nevertheless, I stand by my warning, miss. You will gag on sobs and woeful groans should you go to the faerïe.”

  “Heed not the cowardly Jeoffry, Jane.” Hyssop Joan’s creased face scowled at the cat and then smiled kindly at the young witch. “Common salt shall protect thee should the faerïe threaten harm. They cannot abide those crystals. Carry a handful with thee into the woods and thus know thou art safe and may trust in thy courage. Happy are they who find strength in themselves. As do thee and I, Jane. Even as do thee and I, dearest Jane.”

  Befriending the Faerïe

  At dawn, with three stars still visible in the western sky and orange feathers of clouds brushing the east, Ethan found his daughter sitting in the garden gazebo. She had always been a levelheaded girl, but since his return from his business excursion to the Gulf, she had become different.

  Does adolescence change children that quickly? he wondered, not used to seeing his daughter wearing dresses, her feet unshod, hair fixed in complicated knots atop her head — and with wispy bangs no less! Jane had never worn bangs.

  The air, green as sour milk, felt cold, and he rubbed his hands together and hugged himself as he climbed the steps onto the gazebo. “You warm enough?” he asked, noting that she wore only a red vest sweater over a yellow dress and nothing at all on her bare feet.

  She didn’t answer him. Instead, she leaned against him as he sat beside her.

  “What’s up, kiddo?” he asked, bending forward to look into her face.

  “There’s a meteor shower tonight,” she replied. “The Orionids. I’d like to get away from the town lights and watch them in a dark field.”

  “Jane, I already told you…” He held his helpless hands palm up in front of him. “I swapped with a colleague to cover my day classes while I was away, and now I have to return the favor and conduct night classes this week. I won’t be home till quite late.”

  She shrugged. “I can go on my own.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Come on.” She tugged at his sweater. “I’m thirteen.”

  He shook his head once, unyielding.

  “Look, I’ll go with my school friends. You met them, Sheryl and Alfred.”

  “The kids you spooked with your computer?” He snorted. “Now I can rest easy, knowing those two tough guys will be looking out for you.” He frowned. “We’ll catch the next meteor shower together.”

  Jane looked anxious. “It’s only for a couple hours after sunset. We’ll be back before nine.”

&nbs
p; They negotiated a while longer, and Ethan finally agreed so long as Sheryl and Alfred accompanied her and they took a cell phone. He usually let her do what she wanted, because she had won his trust over the years with her sensible attitude. This time, that left Jane pestered with guilt, having lied for the opportunity to do something entirely irresponsible. But the chance to meet her mother overwhelmed reason, and Jane was not going to let a guilty feeling stop her.

  At school, she aggressively beseeched her friends to accompany her on their bicycles, promising to provide a picnic supper under the falling stars. Alfred was so eager, he called his parents during recess to be sure he had permission. Sheryl had to finish her chores at her parents’ garden shop first and showed up at Bosky Glen on her bicycle after the sun had flared through the trees and vanished behind low, indigo mountains.

  With powerful halogen flashlights secured by duct tape to their handlebars, they wove swiftly through town, heading for the outlying fields. They rode hard to make sure they reached the dark tracts of land beyond the city lights with plenty of time to enjoy their picnic and the streaking meteors before they had to ride back. Stars crowded the clear night.

  Among long rolling hills west of the village, they stopped in a grassy field flanked by tall spires of pinewoods. Jane had spent her allowance money on a bucket of chicken for her and Sheryl and plump wheat buns stuffed with vegetables and beans for Alfred.

  They lay on thick, scratchy Navajo blankets that had served Jane and her father well during their hikes in the deserts of New Mexico. And they sipped cartons of fruit juice among flickering fireflies, occasionally shouting with glee at green streaks of meteors.

  After the picnic, Jane went into the woods on pretense of relieving herself. There, she unwrapped the conjure book, which she had carried with her in the pocket of the bulky Army jacket she wore to keep warm. She pointed to the two giggling kids sitting in the dark and read aloud the slumber spell that Hyssop Joan had shown her that morning in the gazebo before her father found her: “Somnus — sopor — cat’s winks — sleep!”

  When she returned to the blankets, Sheryl and Alfred were sprawled on their backs under the glittering stars, sound asleep. Soon as she confirmed that they were unconscious, she opened the conjure book to the page containing:

  Faerïe Summons

  Starwind, moonfire, owl’s tongue

  and crickets are the song that’s sung:

  Come forth, O come forth

  East, west, south and north

  Ye bright faerïe creatures of the night

  Let me see your mysterious light.

  From out of the pinewoods across the field, mist slowly unfurled and began to shimmer and then glow with colors. Tree shadows swung like spokes across the grass, and the radiant mist brightened and gathered upon the wind in twisting sheets, fiery red and blue.

  Jane gasped to see this neon mist flow into the clearing. She jammed her right hand into the pocket of her Army jacket and clutched the fistful of salt she carried there at Hyssop Joan’s suggestion.

  In a moment, the luminous vapors crossed the field and tangled before her.

  “Child…” A soft voice called from far away. The creaking wind in the pines snatched out of hearing most of the words that followed: “…the stars’ stories ... do you ... child?”

  Awed by the fluttering sheets of light, Jane reached out and placed her hand and the conjure book in the shining air.

  Cool, prickly energy crawled up her fingers and across her wrist all the way to her elbow. And the air smelled of summery rain.

  The words that the wind had stolen came back loud and clear: “Child, why do you trouble us? We are listening to the stars’ stories, and we do not like to be disturbed. What do you want of us, child?”

  Muttering and singing hovered just within hearing, beautiful voices leaking out of Paradise: “Oh child, oh child, you are lost in the wild, gone and away, gone evermore, you lovely child lost in the wild...”

  “I need your help,” Jane spoke bluntly to the heatless fire and raised higher the conjure book.

  Her words dribbled away in overlapping echoes, “...need — need — need your — need your — help — help — help...”

  Out of rippling sheets of light, a girl her own age stepped forth with hair of flames and eyes sharp as stars.

  Her blazing hand took hold of Jane’s clothes and pulled at the dress collar until she exposed the tiny five-pointed star Jane had drawn in green ink above her heart.

  “You are a Wiccan child,” the girl of fire said knowingly, her words sparkling out of her mouth like fireflies. Her gleaming fingers peeled off the pentagram as if it were a decal and pressed it over the place of her heart on her own white, lustrous body. “I feel your soul now, Jane. You are a sad child. Motherless child. Come away with us, and we will make you happy.”

  The incandescent girl tugged at Jane’s jacket, dragging her into the glistening draperies of light.

  Jane trembled and dug in her heels, afraid of what she would see on the other side of that fiery curtain. She yanked herself free and withdrew her handful of salt.

  “Come away, Jane!” the faerïe girl said, melting into the brilliant wind. “Come away and play with me!”

  “No, I have to stay.” Jane stepped back several paces and observed that where the faerïe had touched her, blue fire crawled without heat, clinging to her like sticky worms of voltage. “I need your help to protect me from a spirit fox — from Trick E.”

  “Trick E is an ally of the faerïe.” The dazzling mist moved away. “Trick E is Wicca.”

  “I’m afraid Trick E is going to hurt me.” Jane held up the grimoire, pleading, “Help me. Please!”

  “Wiccan child calls for help,” voices spoke from where flames ran blue and liquid green upon the wind. “Help the child, the Wiccan child, motherless child, lonely child lost in the wild, who will not come away with us, who will not play in the enormous night, who will not play and will not listen to the stories of starlight. Shall we help the lonely child?”

  “Please!” Jane begged. Sensing the benevolence of the bright voices, she emptied back into her pocket the salt she grasped.

  “We love the child for finding us in the night,” the soft voices droned, barely audible in the wind that thrashed the treetops. “We love the lonely child for believing in our might. We love her for loving us, for wanting our help, for believing we can help, yes, for that we love the child most of all. But will she help us?”

  “Help you?” Jane edged closer to the fire of astral energies flapping soundlessly in midair. “How can I help you?”

  A fluorescent arm projected out of the ruffling colors, and in its open hand lay two nuts — hazelnuts. Each had a green thread tied around its middle. “One favor you owe us for the foxy threat we diminish. Yes, we diminish the foxy threat of that spirit fox you have not met. Yet. Another favor you owe us for not taking you with us, you child, you lonely child in the wild. Two favors you owe us — and nothing less. You owe us nothing less to end your distress. Yes? Yes? Yes?”

  “What favors?” Jane asked nervously and nearly dropped the conjure book. “What do I have to do?”

  The shiny arm withdrew. “In time, that will be known. You must do what we ask when the hazelnut is shown. Do you agree, Child Jane?”

  “If I can do what you ask,” Jane replied, “I will.”

  “Good. The word of the child is good.” Dimming away, windy fire carried off the gentle voices. “The foxy threat will be less — and we take you not with us.”

  “Thank you, spirits,” Jane spoke uneasily to the dark night, not sure what exactly she had promised the faerïe. And from deep in the pine forest under tarnished stars, an owl answered with a sob.

  Trick E

  Jane crossed the night field on airy feet, elated that she had communicated with intelligent beings unknown to science. Questions surged. She wanted to know where the faerïe lived and what they ate. Did they glow in the air because they were made of elec
tricity? How many of them were there? Was the young girl who took the inked pentagram from Jane’s chest really a girl or was that just the way she wanted to look to Jane?

  The questions stopped when she spotted a burning animal running toward her from the woods at the far side of the field. Flames sprayed from it like a Fourth of July sparkler. It moved very fast, and soon it was close enough for her to observe its long green eyes, small, triangular ears, and rows of teeth bright and sharp as jags of lightning. Its bushy tail blazed, a red fire tipped with white-hot radiation. She knew at once who it was and gasped, “Trick E!”

  “Hey, hey, hey!” The spirit fox pulled up short before the two sleeping kids, and the air around him glowed like a sunset. He stared at Jane silently for a moment, devilish emerald eyes studying her from scalp to sneakers. He smiled wider, showing more white lightning teeth. “You must be Jane Riggs. The faerïe warned me about you. They say you’re untouchable, a Wiccan kid who talked trash about me. You’re so cute I can’t believe that’s true.”

  Jane couldn’t make her mouth work. The sight of the spectral fox took her breath away.

  “Look, you sweet young thing, why don’t you just give me that filthy old grimoire, that stinking book you have in your hand there, and I’ll be on my way?” Trick E grinned up at her kindly as a pet dog, tongue curled to a scarlet flower in his wide mouth. “I’ll see to it that by the time you get home, that ugly old witch and her cwazy cat are long gone, leaving your house right as rain and twice as fresh. What do you say?”

  Jane clutched the conjure book tighter and held it to her chest. The blue smell of summery rain from the faerïe was upon it and made her nostrils widen. “I don’t trust you.”