“Well, aren’t we just special today,” she grumbled, following him.
* * *
An hour later she’d finally finished the setup for creating her ward bracelet. Realizing it was an exercise in futility, she’d given up trying to keep an eye on Sir Kipling. Either he would behave or he wouldn’t. So far, the worst she’d seen him do was sniff daintily at the leg of one of her chintz chairs. Though he had spent an inordinately long time staring up at the stone gargoyle atop the antique card catalog cabinet, as if he expected it to come to life and attack him. After ensuring the gargoyle was not an imminent threat, he’d disappeared for a time to explore, eventually reappearing underneath the oak worktable to watch her intently, eyes following her every move. He seemed fascinated by her preparations, though he neither commented on them nor asked questions. Eventually she forgot he was there and went on with her work.
Now, everything was ready. Her workspace was a large portion of bare floor, already marked by a spell circle carved deep into the wood, surrounded by powerful warding runes. This circle was why she did most of her casting in the Basement. It had been carved long ago, even before Madam Barrington’s time. Each successive caretaker had added to it, Lily included. It could make the weakest, most inexpertly cast containment spell strong enough to restrain any magical mishap. Along its edge were runes for increased concentration and calm so strong that Lily didn’t bother burning sage to help her focus. It was one of the components that made the Basement so useful, a true wizard’s paradise.
Laying each silver bead of her bracelet down carefully, she arranged them in a perfect octagon around the edges of a dimmu rune drawn on the floor. Next, she took out the bundle of eight hemp strands that held her amulet and laid the whole thing within the octagon. In conjunction with her amulet, this rune would focus and amplify the magic she channeled into each bead. Because the beads were aluminum they could be imbued with significant warding power, despite their small size. Plus, each bore runes that would let her bolster the ward’s strength for a short period by pouring magic straight into it from the Source. It was, she reflected, almost like the force field shields described in science fiction novels. The beads were the projectors with built in “batteries” that could be recharged or boosted by the Source as the “backup generator.” It was all very scientific, thus the common saying: magic was simply science the mundanes hadn’t figured out yet.
With the easy part over—runes carved, workspace prepped—she got down to business: using willpower and her mastery of an ancient language to shape pure energy into a form that would protect her from a multitude of harm.
Settling cross-legged on her favorite cushion, she noticed Sir Kipling sitting just outside the spell circle. His paws were tucked comfortably underneath him in a catloaf position and he seemed content to simply watch the show with unblinking yellow eyes. Lily smiled and closed her own, letting the knowledge of his presence slip away along with every other worry, thought, and care. It had taken years to master the deep calm necessary to control complex spells, a skill that required constant practice and firm discipline.
Slowly, carefully, she tapped the Source, reaching deep inside until she felt its intense glow. It was like a bottomless well of light inside her, and she split off a part of her concentration to maintain the link, allowing it to flow out as she began to chant the words of power that would shape her magic. She took her time, working slowly, meticulously, giving her undivided attention to every rune on each of the eight beads, one at a time. Her words and mind shaped the purpose behind the power, crafting a shield against malignant magic in its many forms. She built controls, set limits, defined parameters. Sweat beaded on her brow even as her body temperature dropped, part of her own energy being sucked into the spell. She maintained a delicate balance between putting enough of her essence into the wards to make them her own while not letting the spell consume her. Seconds grew into minutes, which stretched into hours as she worked.
Though her attention was focused inward, had she looked she would have noticed that Sir Kipling’s eyes remained locked on her. As she sank deeper into her spell, he began to glow again with a pure, white light. The light flowed gently through her shield spell as if the barrier didn’t even exist, splitting into tiny, almost invisible tendrils that entwined throughout her own magic sinking into the ward beads.
After several hours of weaving word and magic, the spell was finally nearing completion. All she had left was to join the magic of each individual bead to make a unified whole, a barrier with no crack or weakness. Physically, the unity would not be visible. The beads would be woven into a new bracelet once the casting was done, but it would not be the bracelet holding them together. Even if the cords were cut, the ward would be maintained by the strength of the magical bond.
Lily started trembling with the effort, her mind and body fatigued from being so long locked in concentration. She ignored it, maintaining iron control as she poured more and more magic into the bond, more magic than she’d ever used on a single spell in her life. Still, it didn’t seem strong enough. Something told her this ward would need to withstand an assault from Gilgamesh himself. So she reached deeper, letting more and more energy rage forth in a torrent almost too wild to control. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew her small beads shouldn’t be able to hold so much power. Yet they held, solid, strong, and…glowing? She finally noticed the white light, but it was too late to do anything about it. To interrupt the casting now would risk a massive explosion of energy that could rip her apart.
She held on, speaking the last few words needed to force the magic into the proper shape as she bore down on her link. It was like trying to stem a flood with just your hands; once flowing, the magic wanted to rage on, bursting the banks of control and overcoming everything in its path. In a moment of panic, Lily feared she wasn’t strong enough. But then Madam Barrington’s words from a long-ago lesson flitted through her mind: “It is not a matter of strength, but of will. Magic has no conscience, no agenda. It is simply unordered energy. You must order it. You must take control.”
With massive effort, Lily sharpened her focus to a razor-edged blade of purpose and cut into the torrent. She was in control. Crying out the final word to finish the spell, she locked the magic in place and shut the floodgates with a snap. The effort left her gasping, slumped forward as her chest heaved for air. She lay for a few minutes, exhausted but relaxed after such an intense marathon of casting. Though she’d not moved an inch during the entire process, her clothes were damp with sweat and her muscles ached.
Lily twitched in surprise as she felt a warm, rough tongue lick her forehead, lapping up the sweat. She considered pushing her over-enthusiastic feline away but couldn’t summon the energy. “You know, it’s dangerous to cross a containment circle,” she murmured, turning her head to eye Sir Kipling’s fluffy face. He took advantage of her now-exposed nose to clean it thoroughly. She scrunched up her face in disgust. “Ew, stop licking me. I need a shower, not your tongue.” He didn’t deign to reply, focusing instead on his efforts.
With a grunt, Lily sat up and murmured the words to dissipate her containment spell. She ought to sit and meditate for a while, let things settle, but she was too tired. A good, hot bath would suffice.
For the first time since completing the casting, she looked at her ward beads and the sight sent a jolt of surprise through her. The power anchor rune she’d drawn on the floor had been literally burned into the wood by the force of magic it had channeled. Yet that wasn’t the most startling sight. As if they’d had a life of their own, the strands of hemp rope already tied to her amulet had woven themselves together through the ward beads, creating a perfect circle with no beginning or end.
Reverently, Lily picked up the bracelet, almost dropping it in shock as heat from the metal beads seared her fingers. Blowing to cool them, she brought the bracelet closer, her wonder growing as she saw tiny veins of light shining in her mind’s eye, interwoven through the hemp and outli
ning all the runes. It wasn’t the warm glow of magic she was used to seeing. This light was pure white, almost too bright to look at. It was the same light she’d noticed interwoven with her magic near the end of her spell. The same light that had shone from Sir Kipling.
She looked up at her cat, who, having given up grooming his clearly ungrateful human, was sitting primly and watching her with interest.
“What have I created?” she asked, fingers reverently stroking the cooling beads as she tried to wrap her mind around what had happened.
“A masterpiece,” he replied. “Put it on.”
She tried, wondering how it would fit with no clasp. When it slid easily over her hand and settled on her wrist, she assumed it was simply too big and would slide off. But as she jiggled her hand, it didn’t budge. It had shrunk to fit comfortably against her skin.
Shaking her head in wonder, she decided her brain was too tired to puzzle over the bracelet’s mysterious sizing powers. Right now it was time to go home. With more groans, she tottered to her feet, expending only just enough energy to retrieve her purse and shoo her cat out. Turning off all the lights, she stumbled out of the Basement, headed for her car, a shower, and sleep.
* * *
Upon waking Thursday morning, she wished she hadn’t. Her tired muscles ached, and they’d tightened overnight. There was only one solution, so she dragged herself to the bathroom for another very hot shower. Afterward, she spent thirty minutes slowly stretching every part of her body. By the end of it, helped along by several cups of very strong Irish Breakfast tea, she felt nearly human again.
Throughout her morning routine, her eyes kept straying back to the ward bracelet, marveling at its beauty. It still glowed faintly with tendrils of white light, though the aura would be visible only to a wizard—and only one who was looking for it. The aluminum beads shone as if polished, and even her amulet was looking buffed and smooth, as if the wash of magic had given it a thorough cleaning. She had never seen the lapis lazuli stone the amulet was made of shine such a deep blue or the gold flecks in it sparkle quite so noticeably. Back when she first began studying magic and Madam Barrington had told her what her mother’s amulet actually was—a power anchor—she’d researched lapis lazuli to better understand the amulet’s abilities. It turned out that lapis lazuli was one of the most sought-after stones in the ancient world, from Mesopotamia to Egypt. At that time its deep, celestial blue was the symbol of royalty and honor, gods and power, spirit and vision. It was the universal symbol of wisdom and truth. Lily had often wondered who had made the amulet, and how far back in her family it had originated. She wanted to ask her mother about it. But, like everything else involving her wizard heritage, she knew her mother would refuse to answer.
Lily had no time to consider it further as she dealt with a busy day at the library. The fall semester was approaching and, even though classes wouldn’t start for another few weeks, preparation was in full swing. Sir Kipling was content to stay at home, to Lily’s relief.
That evening she got another call from Sebastian with news about their thief suspect.
“I’ve spotted her there the past three days,” he said, voice distorted by a rushing sound that made Lily think he was driving with the windows rolled down.
“Really?” she asked, sitting up from where she’d been slouched wearily on her bed.
“Yup. I just watched at first. She spent a lot of time walking around and looking at everything. And I mean everything: exhibits, walls, ceilings, doors, even the floor. She was pretty discreet about it, but I know someone planning mischief when I see it.”
“Because, of course, you do it all the time,” Lily pointed out.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he brushed her off. “Anyway, today I tried to talk to her. But as soon as she laid eyes on me she took off and led me on a merry chase across campus. I thought about sicking Grimmold on her, but I didn’t have any pizza with me. She’s definitely a witch, and a good one at that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because every time I got close, a random stick that hadn’t been there before would trip me, or someone nearby would lurch into me as if they’d been pushed. It’s classic poltergeist tactics. She must have one following her around, the little bugger. I wonder what their bargain is. Poltergeists are tricky. You gotta avoid the nasty ones like the plague. But, if you find the right one, they’ll cause general mayhem for free. Usually you have to bargain for it to cause less trouble. They’re a pain in the butt to get rid of once they’ve taken a liking to making your life hell.”
“Well,” Lily said, voice grim, “we’ll have to be on the lookout for her Saturday night. Do you have any kind of trick to counter her poltergeist if he shows up? I’ll see what I can find, spell-wise.”
“Oh, I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve,” Sebastian assured her. “So when should I pick you up?”
“What?”
“Saturday night. The gala. When should I pick you up?”
“Oh, um, well, I guess…I mean I could just drive myself.”
“Nonsense. You’re going to dress up and I’m going to pick you up like a proper gentleman. I may even clean out my car for the occasion.”
“You’d better, or I won’t be setting foot in it,” Lily warned, glad he couldn’t see the heat rising in her cheeks. She scolded herself for being so silly.
“Okay, okay. So what time?”
“Well, the gala starts at seven, so pick me up at six. We’ll need to get there early to check over things.” And he’ll probably be late, she added to herself.
“Six it is. See ya then!”
After she’d hung up the phone, she noticed Sir Kipling watching her smugly from the doorway.
“Going on a date, are we?” he asked, purring.
Lily rolled her eyes. “It’s not a date. We’re on a mission to stop a dangerous criminal. It just saves gas to carpool.”
“If you say so,” he said, not sounding a bit convinced.
“Well, I do,” she insisted, getting up to make dinner.
In the end, though, she wasn’t sure she was convinced herself.
4
Danger Walks Among Us
Mostly because of Sir Kipling’s scathing comments about frumpy old maids, Lily caved and wore a black cocktail dress instead of her normal pencil skirt suit. After all, she reasoned, she needed to blend in with the guests, and it was a black tie event. This little black dress was the kind every girl had languishing in the back of her closet, never worn yet prized for its potential. Lily had bought it back in her freshman year, newly escaped from the watchful eye of her parents and taking her first steps into adult life. She’d had the optimistic vision of wearing it on romantic dates, until she figured out most men were crude, cheap, and utterly unromantic. Not that it had mattered. Her shyness with men had effectively isolated her. On the few occasions she’d considered wearing it, the low swooping back-line and sexy slit up the form-fitting side had seemed too pretentious. Or perhaps she just hadn’t been brave enough. Either way, tonight was the night.
To the dress, she added pearl earrings and necklace—family heirlooms from her mother’s mother, a woman Lily had never met nor even knew by name. The silver and black of her ward bracelet complimented the outfit nicely. With a bit of concentration, she enchanted the attached amulet to appear pearly white instead of the normal royal blue flecked with gold. She completed the ensemble with sensible pumps of shiny black. No point in wearing stilettos when mischief was afoot.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Sir Kipling commented from the bed as she examined herself in the mirror.
“What?”
“Oh, you know, just a little matter of destiny and constant foreshadowing, nothing major,” he said sarcastically.
She stared, confused.
Sir Kipling sniffed and jumped off the bed, tail held high. Despairing at the drama of cats, Lily followed him into the living room where he sat down beside her desk, right in front of…“The tablet
fragment? I can’t take that. It’s fragile and, well, dangerous.”
“Exactly.” Sir Kipling agreed.
Lily glared at him.
“You’ll need it,” he insisted, his tail twitching.
“But I can’t carry around the warded case, it’s too big.”
“Then ward the thing you have in your hand. It’ll fit in that.”
She looked down, eyeing the black and silver clutch she held. Her cat’s idea was crazy, but this whole evening was bound to be even crazier.
Sighing, she quickly cast some basic wards on her clutch that would protect the fragment from breakage or magical tampering. It was the best she could do on short notice.
Six o’clock came and went with no sign of Sebastian. Lily wasn’t worried—she’d given him a good half hour of wiggle time. When he pulled up at 6:23, she almost smiled. Predictably late people were much easier to plan around than unpredictably on-time ones.
Descending her apartment steps as Sebastian clambered out of his car, she caught sight of his outfit and it took an effort not to gape. Somewhere he’d acquired a very handsome, honest-to-god tuxedo. Not your run-of-the-mill rental, nor the kind found in discount aisles at outlet malls. It was definitely tailored, with silver cuff-links, a formal waistcoat, and a bow tie to boot. Where in the world had he gotten it? She wasn’t exactly privy to his personal finances, but the state of his house, clothes, and car gave the impression he lived in constant danger of going broke. A ghost of a suspicion formed in her mind, but it was so ridiculous she waved it away.
“My goodness, you certainly clean up nicely.” The comment slipped from her lips before she could stop herself, and she immediately blushed and dipped her head, not looking him in the eye.
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Revelations Page 6
