by Bailey Cates
“That’s sweet.”
“It was. And it made me happy, every time we danced. The last time was my middle school graduation.” She took a shaky breath. “Then he got sick and, well, you know.”
I nodded. Iris’ father had passed away when she was thirteen. She still lived with her stepmother, Patsy, while going to school at SCAD.
“I guess it’s one of the ways I hold on to him.”
“Dancing with him made you happy, and now when you’re happy, you dance. Makes perfect sense to me. I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious. Please don’t stop just because I said something.”
She smiled. “Well, when you put it that way.”
“I hear you have a date,” I said.
Her head bobbed. “Oh, Katie, he’s amazing! I met him in my illustration class, though he’s actually majoring in sound design.”
“He’s cute?”
“Katie, that’s so shallow!” But then another huge smile broke out on her face. “He’s gorgeous. Tall and thin with thick brown hair.” She looked up at the ceiling with a dreamy expression. “He wears it in a modern pompadour.” Her feet shuffled a bit. This time she noticed and stopped. Then she shrugged, gave a little giggle, and danced over to the refrigerator with her cleaning supplies.
Laughing, I went to check in with Lucy and Ben.
* * *
* * *
Iris left early to get ready for her big date, and at four thirty I went back to the office to review my plan for the evening. Admittedly, I was taking a shotgun approach to the spell. That meant using every aspect of magic that the spellbook club members specialized in. My own contributions were the baked goods imbued with strong kitchen magic.
I heard voices out in the bakery. The ladies were arriving. However, there was one more thing I needed to do before joining them. It had been forming in my mind all day, and now I took a piece of blank paper out of the printer tray and carefully wrote out the spell I wanted to invoke.
Mungo watched with interest. When I was done, I read it out loud to him.
Future, past, and present Sight
I will gain this summer night.
Psychic powers come to me
Plain the murderer to see.
As we cast, our will be done
And once I know
The Sight is gone.
This single fact
Is all I need.
The case is cracked
For this we plead.
So mote it be.
When I was done, he tipped his head to the side as if trying to make up his mind.
“Yeah, I know. Not exactly beautiful poetry, but it gets at what I want to accomplish. Think it will work?”
He jumped to the floor and trotted to the open doorway. Then he turned and looked over his shoulder at me.
Yip!
Chapter 14
The ladies had all gathered in the library area. They’d already cleared the sofa and chairs to the sides, moved in one of the bistro tables, and on top of it had assembled the things I’d asked them to bring. Ben finished closing the café curtains, gave me a peck on the cheek, and left. Lucy took off her apron and slipped out of her Birkenstocks. Barefoot, she drew the floor-to-ceiling curtain across the entrance to the reading area, shutting it off so that passersby couldn’t see inside if they happened to glance in the front door of the bakery.
Inside the book-lined space, the light was hazy and blue, almost like twilight despite the heat of the day outside. The air was cool as well, which added to the illusion. The only sound was the quiet hum of the air-conditioning in the background, a low and soothing white noise that canceled the sound of traffic out on Broughton Street.
It didn’t cancel the rumble of a big engine going down the alley out back, though. I realized it was probably a truck delivering to one of the retail spaces in the block, then put it out of my mind altogether and gathered the muffins and cookies I’d made that morning. I put them on a tray along with a pitcher of fresh lemonade from the refrigerator and six small glasses. Lemons resonated with the energy of the moon and were particularly useful in summertime spells. Besides, we needed something to wash down the magical treats.
“Ladies,” I said as I put the tray down on the coffee table. “Thank you for coming. I’ve made a few special goodies to help direct our spell this evening.”
They exchanged glances, but everyone reached for a muffin or a cookie and a glass of lemonade.
“Happy to be here, honey.” Mimsey wore indigo slacks and a blouse covered with indigo and lavender flowers—colors that tapped into psychic awareness and intuition. Despite her words, a tiny frown creased her forehead.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Her lips pressed together. “I’m just not sure about this spell you have in mind. Clairvoyance isn’t something to be trifled with.”
I half smiled. “No, it’s not. And I know you don’t think we can use magic to solve a crime, at least not directly.” I hesitated, then plunged on. “I’d like to try, though. You see, Connell showed up last night.”
There were surprised looks all around.
“Oh, Katie.” Lucy’s forehead was creased with worry. “I thought that was over.”
“Apparently, it’s not entirely over. He apologized like crazy, of course, but he felt it was necessary to warn me.”
Now my aunt’s eyes widened in alarm. “Warn you? Of what?”
I shook my head. “He wasn’t very specific. He wasn’t being coy. I truly think he didn’t know more than he told me.”
“Which was what?” Jaida demanded. She was wearing khaki capris and a sleek red tank top.
“That there was something strange about the magic in this case. Something dangerous. And that I should leave it alone.”
Silence descended on the group.
“But you don’t want to abandon Randy,” Bianca finally said in a quiet voice. “This is your solution?”
I nodded.
“I don’t know. Mimsey’s right. What if you’re stuck being clairvoyant as a result of this spell? We’re a pretty powerful bunch, you know.” Bianca bit her lower lip, then turned her intense green-eyed gaze full on me. “I’d have a hard time living with it if you were permanently given the Sight.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Cookie said. She looked especially young tonight with her hair in a ponytail and no makeup. “What would be so wrong with that? Being able to tell the future? Win the lottery? Heck, I’d take it.” A speculative look settled on her face after she spoke the last sentence.
“You don’t even want to know whether you’re having a boy or a girl,” Bianca pointed out.
“Clairvoyance visits everyone differently, Cookie. You could see far more than you want to,” Mimsey said. “Sometimes the Sight isn’t even visual. It could be something heard or felt instead. It could be the future or the past or one of several possible presents. Clairvoyance isn’t just intuition, and it’s not always controllable. Katie could be saddled with violent visions or visited by ghosts—benign or otherwise. Her everyday life could be affected with an overlay of another plane that exists alongside ours. Most people who were born with the Sight have learned over a lifetime how to control it, at least somewhat. Katie might not be able to.”
Cookie stared at the older witch, then at me. “Oh. I guess I never really thought about what it would be like to suddenly gain the Sight.” She took a breath and looked around at the others. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
Lucy took a deep breath. “I agree. I don’t think you should go through with this, Katie. When you e-mailed us about what you wanted to do, I tried to convince myself that it would be okay. I’ve seen how you’ve grown in the Craft, how readily you’ve tapped into your innate abilities, and how your magic has grown. Even so . . . this might be too much.”
I ch
ose my next words carefully. “Given Connell’s warning, I can’t think of another option. And Lucy, I think you know deep down that we can do this. If you weren’t my aunt, you might not question it at all.”
She made a face but didn’t deny it.
“Furthermore, there’s no guarantee that if I—if we—stop investigating Mr. Bosworth’s murder that I’m suddenly scot-free.” I took a deep breath and continued. “As Bianca said, we’re pretty powerful together. We ought to be able to control the spell, especially as a group.”
Lucy met my gaze, then pressed her lips together and seemed to make a decision. “Okay. We can at least hear what Katie has in mind.”
I smiled my gratitude at her. “Let’s take a look at our tools.”
We gathered around the bistro table.
“I’m thinking of a burning spell.” I pointed to the silver bowl in the middle of the table. It was about ten inches in diameter and embossed with interlinked pentagrams. “In Bianca’s cauldron.” I glanced over at her. “Thanks for bringing it.”
“Of course.”
My aunt nodded. “A burning spell makes sense. That was one of the first spells you ever cast.”
“Right. And we can tap into everyone’s capabilities. Jaida, what tarot card did you decide would be best for tonight?”
She reached down to the table and turned over the card she’d brought. It was from the classic Rider-Waite tarot deck and depicted a woman in a blue robe with a cross on her chest and a horned crown on her head. She sat in front of a veil decorated with what looked like apples, but I knew were pomegranates. They were sacred to Persephone, the queen of the dead.
“The High Priestess,” she said. “She represents the subconscious and hidden mysteries. She maneuvers between the here and now as well as accessing deeper psychic information we’re usually not privy to.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Mimsey?”
She picked up the vase of blossoms she’d retrieved from the fridge. “Jasmine and magnolia are both conducive to increasing psychic awareness.” She gave a little laugh. “Not to mention, they smell heavenly, and I always have some on hand for flower arrangements.”
Breathing deeply of their scent, I said, “Sounds just right for tonight. Thanks.”
She nodded and turned to Lucy.
My aunt picked up a small earthenware bowl and removed the openwork lid. “Potpourri that I made from plants I’ve grown and dried in my herb room at home. All promote intuition or psychic connection.”
I leaned forward and took a whiff. “Smells lovely. What’s in it?”
“Bay leaf, honeysuckle, and lemongrass. A few rose petals. A sprinkle of sage.” She grinned. “And a little incantation to trigger them.”
“A spell within a spell. Nice.”
Bianca’s hair, worn long and loose tonight, shielded her face as she leaned down to the table. Brushing her hair over the shoulder of her flowing gauze tunic, she straightened and held up a smooth white rock with a sheen like a pearl. “I cleared this moonstone in the light of the full moon. Thought it might come in handy.”
I touched it with the tip of my finger. Moonstone was a conduit for intuition and prophecy. “Thank you.”
She held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded and returned the stone to the table with the other items.
“Well, I brought the candles, at least,” Cookie said with a shrug.
I wondered if she felt a little left out. “Purple candles, vital for invoking the circle.”
She suddenly grinned and held out her hand. “Right. And here’s a little extra protection for the circle.”
I took the vial she held. “What’s this?”
“Black salt. Not the fancy stuff from Hawaii that people cook with. This is witch’s salt, mixed with scrapings from a cast-iron pot and the ashes of burnt walnut shells. Oh, and a little patchouli.”
“Patchouli,” I repeated.
She shrugged. “It’s in the recipe.”
I turned the vial and watched the salt flow from one end to the other. “Wow.”
“Thank you, Cookie,” Mimsey said. “That will indeed strengthen the circle.” She looked at me. “And that will help keep the spell contained. But even so, how do you plan to direct the spell so that you get the information you desire—the identity of Kensington Bosworth’s killer—rather than whatever information the universe might randomly reveal to your newfound and hopefully temporary Sight?”
Reaching into my pocket, I took out the spell I’d written and handed it to her. She perused it carefully, then handed it to Jaida to read.
“Yes,” Mimsey said thoughtfully. “Yes, I think that might do it.”
Once they’d had a chance to read it, the other ladies nodded their agreement.
“Okay, then. Shall we get started?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” Lucy said.
I glanced over to where Mungo, Honeybee, Puck the ferret, and Rafe the king snake waited by the window. The familiars would stay outside the circle but be ready to assist us if needed.
Jaida, Cookie, Bianca, and Mimsey each picked up a purple votive in a glass holder, then went to one of the four compass points and placed the candle on the floor. They stepped back to the central table. Lucy took the vial of black salt, walked to the eastern candle, and began sprinkling the dark crystals on the floor. She continued deosil, or clockwise, around to the southern candle, then to the western one, the northern one, and finally she ended at the eastern candle again and closed the salt circle.
She returned to the table, picked up a lighter, and handed it to Mimsey. The older witch nodded and went to the eastern candle. Bending down, she lit it, then straightened and said, “We call upon the archangel Raphael and the element of air to aid us in this endeavor.”
“So mote it be,” we all murmured.
Mimsey continued to the southern compass point, lit the candle, and said, “We call upon the archangel Michael and the element of fire to aid us in this endeavor.”
“So mote it be,” we responded.
And so it went with the western candle, calling upon Gabriel and water, then Uriel and earth to the north. Mimsey completed the circle again at the east, then joined us.
“Jaida,” she said. “You begin.”
Nodding, Jaida gently picked up the High Priestess card and placed it in the cauldron. Next, Mimsey pinched off a sprig of jasmine and three magnolia petals and added them to the pot. Lucy picked up her container of potpourri and tipped a little in. I nodded to Bianca, who placed the moonstone next to the silver vessel, adding to the spell but not to be burned. Then I unfolded my spell again and held it out, so everyone could help me read it out loud.
Future, past, and present Sight
I will gain this summer night.
Psychic powers come to me
Plain the murderer to see.
As we cast, our will be done
And once I know
The Sight is gone.
This single fact
Is all I need.
The case is cracked
For this we plead.
So mote it be.
“Above, below, and within,” Mimsey said.
I added the paper to Bianca’s silver bowl and struck a wooden kitchen match. The others joined hands around me in yet another circle. I lit the contents in the cauldron, then gripped the sides of the table and closed my eyes.
Waiting. Willing.
Then I remembered what Dad had said and silently called out to my totem.
Dragonfly, please aid this endeavor however you can.
There was a flutter of wings at the edge of my consciousness, then it stilled. Nothing else happened for several long seconds. Then the hum of the air conditioner seemed to grow fainter. The atmosphere thickened around me. I opened my eyes and could see the others standing
, hand in hand, watching me with intense expressions of hope and worry. However, there was something different about them. They didn’t appear as solid as usual. I blinked, and they became a little more transparent. Then I realized their lips were moving, chanting something, but I couldn’t hear them.
In fact, I couldn’t hear anything at all. But that was okay. Everything was okay. Except I was supposed to be looking for something. Learning something. What was it?
Movement outside the circle drew my attention.
Nonna!
My grandmother, as I remembered her from when I’d last seen her alive when I was nine years old, stood by the bookshelf. Her long red hair was streaked with white and twisted into a loose braid that coiled around her head. Laugh lines framed her mouth and eyes, while her round cheeks were smooth and pink. Her green eyes seemed to glow in the twilight of the room as she turned her gaze on me. The familiars were all staring at her, and it occurred to me to wonder whether they could always see the spirits around us.
I smiled in relief and waved. My grandmother would protect me. “Hi, Nonna! It so good to see you,” I said. Or I thought I said. My lips moved, but if I made a sound, I couldn’t hear it.
Usually, I only heard my grandmother. I’d never seen her like this. The spell was working!
She waved back at me. Except it wasn’t a wave, really, and her face was stern. She was holding up her hand like a crossing guard. Then the other one came up. She made a pushing motion.
And her lips were moving. I shook my head. “I can’t hear you, Nonna. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t stop, though. She kept repeating words over and over. I squinted, trying to read her lips.
“Stop . . . Danger . . .”
A feeling of dread settled upon me as I realized she was trying to warn me of something.
“Must stop! Now! Katie . . .”
Her eyes pleaded with me.
“I don’t know what you want me to do!” I shouted.
