Arcane Circle

by Linda Robertson

“I lied. You called my bluff and said you weren’t leaving until I fixed this.” She shrugged. “We can do this another time if you’re getting cold feet.”

  “No. I just want you to look me in the eye and tell me you can do this.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I can do this and I want to do this.”

  Johnny lay down on the table.

  Eris placed the broom on the floor, and proceeded to cleanse the space with earth, air, fire, and water. “Ground and center yourself,” she said to Johnny, with a light touch on his shoulder. “The rest of you observing should ground and center also.”

  We all took cleansing breaths and did as told.

  Eris took longer to do this than the rest of us, but that was probably because we were watching her. Stop being snide, I chided myself. Focus on positive things. She’s probably taking extra time to be assured she is calm. This is a significant ritual, and calmness is essential.

  She had scattered salt across the floor as part of the earth cleansing, but now she made a wide circle of salt encompassing the table and all of the carpet.

  “I cast this circle round,

  and conjure this sacred space.

  Between the worlds are we,

  safe in this curved embrace.

  Here, magic is potent,

  in a realm of day and night.

  Here, raised power’s contained

  where birth and death unite.

  Here, magic is possible.

  Here, magic is possible.”

  She lit a tea light candle and bent down to place it on the eastern edge of her salt circle.

  “This circle must not be broken until I am done. And no one should interrupt a spell in progress.” With that, Eris faced east and held her arms wide open in welcoming. “Watchtower guardians of the east! You are hereby summoned! Stir as I beckon to you. Come to me. Witness this rite. Protect this sacred space.” She placed an incense burner, dragonfly charms, and feathers with a tea light candle at the inner edge of the circle.

  She continued, calling on all the watchtowers in order. At each compass point she placed a candle and a representation of the correlating element. For fire she used a fist-size chunk of tiger iron, cinnamon sticks, and a round red candle. For water, she opened a glass bottle of water and placed a dolphin carved of aquamarine. For earth she sat out a bowl of salt, chestnuts, and colorful dried leaves and dried wheat tied together with a brown ribbon.

  “Frigg, Queen of the Aesir, wife of Odin the shape-shifter, look down from Asgard, where you sit before your wheel in Fensalir spinning golden thread.” Her arms slowly lifted as she spoke. “Don your lovely cloak of falcon feathers, transform and fly your inspiration to me. Though you will tell no fortunes, you peer into the universe, you know the fates of men. You know what I must do.” She took a deep breath. “Come to me, attended by your creative maidens, and fill me. Guide me! Steer me truly, that the destiny your golden threads weave may be served by my actions.”

  I now understood why Great El’s slate had given me her name in runes. She connected to the Norse pantheon. It indicated a severing of ties to the blood affinity her family had for the Greek pantheon, but a witch should answer the call of what pantheon calls to her, as that is the root of the spiritual connection.

  Eris lowered her arms but kept her palms above Johnny’s body, over his chest and bellybutton.

  My attention flicked down to the items collected beneath the table, settling on the black-handled dagger I’d packed for her. I should be in there with him. She could cut me a door and let me in… . No. I will give her my trust in this.

  “I now initiate the undoing of what was done before. What these hands once instated in magic upon this man, will now be rescinded. What captivity I cursed him with, I now release him from. What chains of confinement I placed upon him, I will now break.”

  Arms at her sides, her shoulders bunched just a little. Her fingers splayed, clawlike. It was very much the same pose the fairy Fax Torris had used to call and control her superheated beam of light.

  “Answer my call … come to me … I draw you up, up from below. Power! Fill my circle. Seal my circle.”

  With the first gentle wave of energy, her hair lifted on the current. The second wave surged up before the first had ebbed, and as it tossed her hair around like thousands of snapping whips, sparks crackled from the tips.

  This was ley line energy. This was sorcery.

  Nana had taught me that sorcery was to be undertaken only as a “last resort,” something to be used when immediacy demanded it. Right now, I could agree that Johnny’s need was urgent.

  But.

  The power of the ley, the power of sorcery, was, as Nana would say, “like a bull in a china shop.” It was eager, mobile, and brutish. It required strength of will to hold it, contain and control it.

  I’d touched ley magic. I’d felt its sting at the first burning bite of contact. It was meant to protect, to keep the weak from tapping the line. I used a drop of that energy to power my house wards. That “drop” could numb my whole arm instantaneously. If more than a drop was being used—like it was here before us—the sensation faded too quickly into a euphoria that could render an unprepared or unlearned sorceress unconscious, either releasing that power unchecked, or leaving her helpless as it consumed her.

  My mother’s intoxication gave me great concern. I knew that the heated “almost-pain” was dulling into a nice buzz. She looked like a junkie who’d just taken a hit.

  I checked Johnny for a sign that this was causing him any discomfort, but he lay still, calm and unaffected.

  Eris clapped her hands over her head, fingers lacing together. She was breathing fast, but slowing with each inhalation. When she had control, she quit the pose and retrieved a long narrow tray and a yellow candle from under the table. She lit the candle, positioned the tray on the floor at the head of the table, and placed the candle.

  “I invoke the will of the dazzling sun, with golden rays of warmth and light.” She took up a Baggie and sprinkled the cinnamon and rosemary mixture on Johnny’s arms. With a piece of amber dipped in Dragon’s Blood oil, she traced the markings on his right arm, murmuring of Belenus, a Welsh sun god, and invoking the element of fire. When she switched to trace the marking on his right arm, her chant invoked Lugh, the god of the sun in Irish traditions.

  Dragon’s Blood, incidentally, was not a good thing to put directly on the skin, but I was confident that Johnny’s wære healing ability would adjust for it.

  I was feeling pretty good about this so far, at least until she climbed atop the table and straddled my boyfriend. Beside me Nana crossed her arms in a huff, drawing my attention to the belligerence she was expressing.

  Eris grasped Johnny’s wrists and lifted them until his arms were vertical.

  “Guardians and loyal hounds

  Healers drawn and duty bound

  Rest now, you steadfast beasts

  Your vigilant watch now may cease.”

  The flames of each candle sputtered and threw up smoke that swirled without dissipating. Taking the form of the lean hounds from the art, these smoke hounds loped happily around the circle three times before lying down and fading.

  Eris climbed down from the table.

  Johnny lifted his head to meet my gaze. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to convey. If I’d been able to touch him, perhaps I could have heard him tell me in my mind.

  Eris lit a blue candle, placed it beside the yellow one and moved the tray back enough to allow her to stand at the head of that table without jeopardizing the candles. She took up another Baggie. “Shut your eyes and keep them shut until I say you can open them,” she said to Johnny. “I invoke the emotion of the shimmering moon, ruler of the tides, whose silver beams brighten the night.”

  She sprinkled ground eucalyptus and myrrh across his eyes, then lifted a piece of moonstone. Instead of dipping the stone in the oil this time—Dragon’s Blood would be bad stuff to get in the eyes—she tapped the gemstone’s e
dge against the oil-filled bottle three times. Murmuring invocations to the element of water, and calling on Thoth, the Egyptian god of the moon and knowledge and wisdom, and also on Amun, the king of the gods who was associated with hidden power, she traced the Wedjats.

  Placing the moonstone between his brows she put her palms over him, chanting,

  “This man’s desire is revealed.

  Let him see it.

  This man’s truth is revealed.

  Let him be it.

  This man’s power is revealed.

  Let him free it.

  This man’s destiny is revealed.

  Let him believe it.”

  As she spoke, Johnny’s exhaled breath became steam that flew like ibis and falcons, up and up, fading as they reached the ceiling.

  She repeated the lines twice, lifted her hands, and shouted the chant a third time with upraised arms.

  When she lowered her arms, however, she teetered to the left.

  “Eris!” Nana called.

  At the last, she caught herself with a grip on the table. “I’m okay,” she said.

  That may have been true, but simply being in a circle and saying the words wasn’t enough to conduct magic, let alone sorcery. This was taxing her heavily and there were five tattoos remaining. She sat on the floor beside the table, dug a cloth from the box, and pushed it to Johnny’s fingers. “Wipe the herbs from your face with this, then you can open your pretty blues.”

  He sat up to comply. When done, he blinked and peered around him, noticing where she was sitting. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Just need to ground and center again.” She straightened her spine and imitated a yoga pose.

  Johnny looked at me. I nodded. Silently questioning back, I tipped my head toward him and lifted my brows. He shook his head minutely and lay back down.

  He doesn’t feel any different. Since the ley power was crawling over my skin and I’d seen the hounds and birds in the circle, I knew it was working. Perhaps Johnny’s immunity to magic was hampering his ability to detect the effects of it.

  Eris broke her pose and stood with a dreamy sigh. She’d called the energy, it had answered again to refuel her. “The star on your navel is next.” She glanced at me. “A fairy star, to be broken without fey magic.”

  She lit a silver candle, placed it with the rest. She gathered her supplies and, with her thumbs and forefingers, created a circle around the seven-pointed star on Johnny’s abdomen. “I summon the speed of the planet Mercury, with quicksilver and light.” She sprinkled lavender and mint on his stomach, then followed the lines of the star with a piece of aventurine, mumbling of Mercury, the Roman messenger of the gods and god of travelers, and invoking the element of earth.

  “Fate’s path was once reborn

  With magic, ink, and art entwined,

  Sealed with seven points, seven thorns.

  But I command you now to unbind!”

  Hands hovering inches above the star on his skin she chanted,

  “The way is clear.

  Barriers frayed.

  The way is clear.

  Obstructions fade.

  The way is clear.

  The path is remade.

  The way is clear.

  The way is clear.

  The way is clear.”

  My eyes detected a dark cloud. Analyzing what I was seeing, I realized that granules of the ground-up lavender and mint were sliding across his skin, floating into the air between his flesh and her palms, and forming the same lines as the fairy star.

  The symbol floated there, first wobbling as each point dipped down in succession, tilting the whole.

  “Clear the way,” she said, and repeated it twice more.

  On the third time, the spinning herbs massed together into a thick cloud, then exploded in a poof! that left a dusting of lavender and mint across Johnny’s skin.

  Eris leaned on the table, shoulders sagging.

  “Stir,” she murmured, twirling her finger clockwise in the air.

  The air around them swirled hard enough to lift her hair and wipe the lavender and mint dust from Johnny. The sparks crackled around her again, but this time the sparks were red.

  “You’re going to need to remove your jeans for the next part.”

  Johnny rose from the table, on the far side, and removed his boots and socks, then dropped his jeans. With Nana sitting beside me I tried not to admire him too much and just be grateful that he’d worn underwear. Bet he is, too.

  Eris grabbed his discarded things and shoved them into an empty space under the table. “And by the way,” she told him, “this part is going to hurt.”

  She lit a red candle as he resumed his place on the table and placed it next to the yellow and blue candles on the tray. “I invoke the action of the planet Mars, of dynamic assertiveness and fearless heroics.” From the third Baggie, she sprinkled basil and allspice onto his thighs. With an oblong piece of red jasper she’d dipped into the Dragon’s Blood oil, she traced the image on his right thigh first, chanting odd Aztec names, and invoking the element of air.

  These tattoos were the ones I had not studied much, because when Johnny’s pants were off, admiring the art on his legs was not my priority. However, I knew these images were blocky Aztec figures made with thick lines and curves, colored in with dark shades of red.

  When she had completed the drawing on that side, she sat the stone on the top of his thigh and said,

  “Xolotl! Dog of the Underworld,

  Bringer of fire, at night the sun is in your keep.

  Cipatli! Dragon primordial,

  Your slain body became our earth, so deep.

  Dragon and dog together,

  Earth and fire forever!”

  She moved around the table and drew the image on the left with a second jasper dipped in oil, then placed it atop his left thigh and said,

  “Quetzelcoatl! Feathered serpent,

  And ruler of the rains that cleanse,

  You are lightning and you are thunder

  Nahuatl! The lord of the Nine Winds.

  Serpent and human together,

  Air and water forever!”

  She reached across the table to grip both thighs so the tattoos were under her palms, and her thumbs were on the stones.

  “Elements four,

  in Aztec gods once paired!

  This seal is broken!

  Separations are now repaired!”

  She sucked down a trembling breath and enunciated the chant succinctly. “I take it back, I take it back, I take it back.”

  Johnny cried out sharply. He rose up and instinctively swung his fist at her, but halted the strike at the last second. To my far left, Lance was on his feet. Both Johnny and Eris were in pain. She ground her teeth, the scream in her throat building, building until she couldn’t keep it down any longer. At once, both of them opened their mouths and anguish filled the room.

  She jerked away, red jaspers tumbling to the floor as the room fell silent except for the mystical music on the stereo. Gasping, Eris clenched and unclenched her fists and shook them as if she couldn’t feel them anymore. She took a step back and stared down into the palms of her now badly shaking hands.

  Johnny was inspecting his thighs. “What the—” He struggled for the words, and blurted, “The color’s gone!”

  “No it’s not.” Eris showed us her palms. The palms of her hands were entirely red.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  How—?” Johnny demanded.

  Her breath caught. “I took it back.” She stumbled.

  Johnny leaped from the table. He couldn’t catch her before her knees buckled, but his grip on her arm kept her from tumbling out of the circle.

  The rest of us rushed to that side of the table, careful not to cross the ring of salt.

  Eris stared at her hands in dismay. “What I did to you was so wrong and I knew it.” She showed him her hands again. “Air. Air was the final element. Air powers the mechanism that injected the
ink into your skin. And now it’s in mine, as if the universe has caught me red-handed.” She laughed. The maniacal edge to it made the rest of us toss looks around like a hot potato.

  “You have to stop this,” Lance said.

  “No!” Eris shouted. She twisted and struggled to get to her feet, obviously weak. Johnny helped her stand. “We can’t stop!” When her knees threatened to give way again, he made her sit on the table.

  Johnny retrieved his jeans from under the table and stepped into them. As he tugged the zipper up he said, “I’m not convinced you’re able to finish this.”

  “You can’t leave the circle partially free.”

  “What? You took days to lock me up. You even said we could do this one at a time over the course of a week.”

  The guilt in her expression was heart-wrenching. “Locking it down piece by piece was like building a pyramid with blocks. It was systematic and each built on the other. I’ve just removed your foundation. If you did this over a series of days, we could keep you shielded from any other magic. But if you left now and randomly encountered any other magic, any surge of energy, it would be bad.”

  “But I’m—”

  “Resistant. I know. This is different. You’d be walking around with magic in progress attached to you.” Before he could protest, she added, “If you were trying to pick locks to get in a place without damaging the door or letting others know you had gained that access, you wouldn’t pick half of the locks then let your impatience and temper get the best of you. If you ripped it off the hinges you’d defeat your own purpose and destroy the door.”

  He released a breath and put his hands on his hips. “I’m the door.”

  “Exactly.” She reached up to his shoulder. “Right now, you’re as fragile as an eggshell, tough guy.”

  He shied away from her touch. “What do you need to finish this?”

  She examined her palms again. “I need … to accept what the deities intend for me to pay.”

  My thoughts ran to the Three-Fold Law. What you do comes back to you, three-fold. It was a karma-in-this-life notion meant to keep witches’ actions pure, good, and positive. Getting that goodness back in triplicate would be wonderful. Winning the trifecta of troubles, however, not so wonderful.