Night World 1

by L. J. Smith

  Right now Blaise was working on a necklace to knock you dead.

  Thea could see it taking shape. Blaise used the lost wax method of jewelry-making, which meant that she carved out her pieces in stiff blue wax before casting them in silver or copper or gold. What she was carving now was breathtaking. Heart-stopping. An intricate masterpiece that was going to have roughly the same effect as Aphrodite’s magic girdle—which meant no male was going to be able to look at it without falling under the spell.

  And she had some of Eric’s blood. The vital ingredient that meant she’d be able to personalize this spell for him.

  The one good thing was that it would take Blaise a few days to finish this piece. But once it was done….

  Eric didn’t have a chance in Hades.

  Thea backed up, not knowing—and not caring—whether Blaise had noticed her. She headed blindly for her bedroom.

  She and Eric were soulmates. But Blaise was, in some ways, Aphrodite herself. And who could resist that?

  What am I going to do?

  She had a little of Eric’s blood herself on the corner of the tissue. But she could never outmatch Blaise in creating love spells. Blaise had years of experience and a natural talent that left everyone else in the dust.

  So I have to think of something else. Something to keep her from getting to him in the first place. To protect him…

  Thea straightened up.

  I can’t. It’s too dangerous. The summoning spells aren’t for maidens. Even the Inner Circle has to be careful with those.

  But Grandma has the materials. I know she does. I’ve seen the box.

  It may kill me even to try.

  An odd serenity came over her. If she concentrated on that—on the risk—she felt better than if she thought about what Gran would say if she found out. She wasn’t afraid to face danger for Eric. And as long as she kept thinking about that, she could block out the thought that her idea was not only dangerous, but wrong.

  This time she went down the stairs almost as if she were sleepwalking. Calm and detached.

  “Toby, where’s Gran?”

  He lifted his head a bare inch. “She went to see Thierry Descouedres, something about his land. Told me to come and pick her up tonight.”

  Thierry was a vampire and a Night Lord. He owned a lot of the land northeast of Las Vegas—but what did Gran have to do with that?

  It didn’t matter. The important thing was that Gran wouldn’t be back all day.

  “Well, then, why don’t you go out and have some fun? I can watch the shop.”

  Tobias looked at her with dazed blue eyes—and then his round face lit up. “Seriously? You’d do that? I could kiss you. Let’s see, I’ll go visit Kishi…no, maybe Zoe…no, maybe Sheena….”

  Like all boy witches, he was in tremendous demand with the girl witches in town.

  Still muttering, he checked his wallet, grabbed the car keys, and headed for the door as if Thea might change her mind any second. “I’ll be back in time to pick her up, I promise,” he said hastily and was out the door.

  The instant he was gone, Thea turned the sign on the door to CLOSED, locked up, and tiptoed to the counter.

  It was in the locked lower shelf, an iron chest that looked five hundred years old. Thea picked it up with an effort—it was heavy. With her teeth gritted and her eyes on the bead curtain that separated the store from Grandma’s workshop, she staggered up the stairs.

  She made two other trips downstairs to gather materials. The bead curtain never stirred.

  Last, she went to Gran’s bedroom. On a nail near the headboard was a heavy ring with dozens of keys. Thea took it. Back in her own bedroom she shut the door and stuffed a towel underneath so Blaise wouldn’t smell the smoke.

  Okay, now let’s get this thing open.

  She sat crosslegged on the floor in front of the chest. It wasn’t hard to find the key that would fit the lock—she just looked for the oldest and crudest iron key on the ring. It fit perfectly and the chest opened.

  Inside was a bronze box, and inside that a silver box.

  And inside the silver box was an ancient book with yellowing, brittle pages, and a small green bottle with wax and ribbons securing its cork. There were also thirty or forty amulets. Thea picked one up and examined it.

  A lock of blond hair had been twisted and woven into a knot and then sealed in that shape with a round piece of clay. The clay was dark earthy red, and Thea touched it reverently. It had been made with mud—and the blood of a witch. An entire Circle had probably worked on this for weeks: charging the blood, chanting, mixing it with secret ingredients, baking it in a ritual fire.

  I’m touching a witch, Thea thought. The very essence of somebody who’s been dead hundreds of years.

  The cabalistic sign stamped on the front of the amulet was supposed to show who the witch was. But lots of the pieces of clay were so worn that Thea couldn’t make out any trace of a symbol.

  Don’t worry. Find a description of somebody in the book, and then match the amulet to them.

  She turned the fragile pages of the book carefully, trying to read the spidery, faded writing.

  Ix U Sihnal, Annie Butter, Markus Klingelsmith…no, they all sound too dangerous. Lucio Cagliostro—maybe. But I don’t really want an alchemist. Dewi Ratih, Omiya Inoshishi…wait a minute. Phoebe Garner.

  She scanned the page on Phoebe eagerly. A gentle girl from England who had lived before the Burning Times and had kept familiars. She’d died young of tuberculosis, but had been considered a blessing by everyone who’d known her—even humans, who appreciated her ability to deflect spells from her village. Human villagers had mourned at her grave.

  Perfect, Thea thought.

  Then, she began scrabbling through the amulets, looking for one with the same symbol impressed on the clay as the book showed by Phoebe’s name.

  There it was! She cradled the amulet in her palm. Phoebe’s hair had been auburn and very fine.

  Okay. Now get the balefire ready.

  It had to be made from oak and ash, the two kinds of wood that had been burned to bake the clay. Thea put the dry sticks in her grandmother’s largest bronze bowl and lit them.

  Now add quassia chips, blessed thistle, mandrake root. Those were just for general power raising. The real magic was in the tiny bottle that had been carved out of a single piece of malachite. It was the summoning potion, and Thea had no idea at all what was in it.

  She dug at the wax with her fingernails until the cork twisted freely. Then she paused, her hands shaking with every beat of her pulse.

  Up until now, she’d only examined things she shouldn’t: bad but forgivable. Now she was going to kindle a forbidden fire…and that wasn’t forgivable. If the elders discovered what she’d done…

  She pulled the cork out.

  CHAPTER 8

  A sharp, acrid odor assaulted her nostrils. She had to blink away tears as she held the bottle over the fire and very carefully tipped it.

  One drop, two drops, three.

  The fire flared, burning blue.

  It was ready. The balefire that was the only way to get a spirit from the other side—apart from crossing the veil and fetching it back yourself.

  Thea took Phoebe’s amulet in both hands and snapped it, cracking the clay and breaking the seal. Then, holding the broken amulet over the fire, she said the words of power she’d heard the elders speaking last Samhain.

  “May I be given the Power of the Words of Hecate.”

  Instantly, she found words coming to her, rolling off her tongue. She heard them as if it were somebody else talking.

  From beyond the veil…I call you back!

  Through the mist of years…I call you back!

  From the airy void…I call you back!

  Through the narrow path…I call you back!

  To the heart of the flame…I call you back!

  Come speedily, conveniently, and without delay!

  She felt a rumbling vibration like an e
arthquake rock the floor. Above the ordinary fire different flames seemed to burn; cold, ghostly flames that were pale blue and violet and rose to lick at her knuckles.

  She started to open her hands, to let the amulet fall into the magical flame. But just as she was about to do it, there was a bang.

  The door to her bedroom swung open, and for the second time in twelve hours she found herself horrified to see Blaise.

  “The whole place is shaking—what are you doing?”

  “Blaise—just stay back!”

  Blaise stared. Her jaw dropped and she lunged forward. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s almost finished—”

  “You’re crazy!” Blaise grabbed at the amulet in Thea’s hands, and then, when Thea snatched her hands back, at the silver box.

  “Leave it alone!” Thea grabbed the other side of the box. They were struggling with it, each trying to pull it from the other. Fire scorched Thea’s hands.

  “Let go!” Blaise shouted, trying to twist the box away. “I’m warning you—”

  Thea’s fingers were damp with sweat. The box slipped.

  That was when it happened.

  The silver box flipped in Blaise’s hands, sending a spray of amulets everywhere. Locks of gray hair, black hair, red hair, all flying. Most of them hit the floor—but one landed directly in the balefire.

  Thea heard a crack as the clay seal broke.

  For one second she was frozen, then she plunged her hand into the fire. But the clay was already burning—not red hot, but white hot. She couldn’t close her fingers around it. For just an instant she seemed to see a symbol etched in blue flames, and then a flash like sheet lightning exploded from the fire. It knocked her into Blaise’s bed and Blaise into the wall.

  The lightning formed a column and something shot out.

  Thea didn’t so much see it as sense it. A wraith shape that tore around the room like a blast of arctic wind. It sent books and articles of clothing flying. When it reached the window, it seemed to pause for an instant, as if gathering itself, and then it shot through as if the glass didn’t exist.

  It was gone.

  “Great Mother of Life,” Blaise whispered from against the wall. She was staring at the window with huge luminous eyes—and she was scared. Blaise was scared.

  That was when Thea realized how bad things were.

  “What have we done?” she whispered.

  “What have we done—what have you done, that’s the question,” Blaise snapped, sitting up and looking more like her ordinary self. “What was that thing?”

  Defensively, Thea gestured at the scattered amulets. “What do you think? A witch.”

  “But who?”

  “How should I know?” Thea almost yelled, fear giving way to anger. “This is the one I was going to call back.” She snatched up the auburn hair and cracked amulet of Phoebe Garner. “That one was just whichever one fell out when you grabbed the box.”

  “Don’t try to make this my fault. You’re the one doing forbidden spells. You’re the one summoning ancestors. And whatever happens with that one”—Blaise pointed at the window—“you’re the one responsible.”

  She got up and shook out her hair, standing tall. “And that’s what you get for trying to sic the spirits on me!” She turned and stalked out the door.

  “I wasn’t trying to sic the spirits on you!” Thea shouted—but the door had already slammed shut.

  Thea’s anger collapsed. Feeling numb, she looked at the overturned silver box, where she had temporarily stored the tissue with Eric’s blood.

  I was just trying to find a protector for him. Somebody who’d help him fend off your spells, who’d understand that he’s a person even though he’s a human.

  She looked forlornly around the room. Then, feeling older than Gran, she struggled to her feet and started mechanically cleaning up the mess.

  When she dumped the ashes out of the bowl she found some sort of residue sticking to the bottom. She couldn’t wash it off and she couldn’t pry it off with a steak knife. She stashed the entire bowl under her bed.

  All the while she cleaned, her mind kept churning.

  Who got out? No way to know. Process of elimination wouldn’t help, not with all those unmarked amulets.

  What to do now? She didn’t know that either.

  If I tell anyone—even Gran—they’ll want to know why I was trying to summon the dead. But if they find out the truth, it means death for me and Eric.

  Around sunset, a limousine pulled up in the back alley. Thea saw it from her window and rushed downstairs in alarm.

  Grandma was being helped out of the car by two politely expressionless vampires. Servants of Thierry’s.

  “Gran, what happened?”

  “Nothing happened. I had a little weak spell, that’s all!” She whacked at one of the vampires with her cane. “I can help myself, son!”

  “Ma’am,” said the vampire—who might have been three or four times Grandma’s age. To Thea, he said, “Your grandmother fainted—she was pretty sick there for a while.”

  “And that good-for-nothing apprentice of mine never showed up,” Gran said, making her way to the back door.

  Thea nodded good-bye to the vampires. “Gran—it was my fault about Tobias. I let him have the day off.” Her stomach, which had been clenched like a fist all day, seemed to draw even tighter now. “Are you really sick?”

  “I’m good for a few years yet.” She began laboriously working her way up the stairs. “Vampires just don’t understand old age.”

  “What did you go there for?”

  Gran stopped to cough. “None of your business, but I had to settle some arrangements with Thierry. He’s agreed to let the Inner Circle use his land on Samhain.”

  Upstairs, Thea made some herb tea in the tiny kitchenette. And then, when Gran was in bed with the tea, she gathered her courage.

  “Gran, when the elders call up the spirits on Samhain—how do they send them back?”

  “Why should you want to know?” Gran said crossly. But when Thea just looked at her, she went on. “There are certain spells that are used for summoning—and don’t you ask me what they are—and you say those backwards to send them back. The witch who calls a spirit has to be the one to dismiss it.”

  So only I can do it. “And that’s all?” Thea asked.

  “Oh, of course not. It’s a long process of kindling the fire and strewing the herbs—but if you do it all right, you can draw the spirit down from between the standing stones and send it back where it came from.” Grandma went on muttering, but Thea had snagged on a earlier phrase.

  “From between—the standing stones…?” she got out.

  “The standing stones that encircle the spirits. Well, think, Thea! If you didn’t have a circle of some kind to hold them in, they’d just—voom.” Gran made a gesture. “They’d zip out and how would you ever find them again? That’s why I went to Thierry today,” she added, taking a noisy sip of tea. “We need a place where the sandstone forms a natural circle…and naturally it’s up to me to arrange everything….” She went on grumbling softly.

  Thea felt faint.

  “You have to be—physically close to them—to send them back?”

  “Of course. You have to be within spitting distance. And don’t think I don’t know why you’re asking.”

  Thea stopped breathing.

  “You’re planning something for Samhain—and it’s probably all Blaise’s idea. You two are like Maya and Hellewise. But you can forget about it right now—those spells are for the elders, not for girls.” She stopped to cough. “I don’t understand why you want to be crones before you’re done being maidens. You ought to enjoy your youth while you have it….”

  Thea left her still grumbling.

  She hadn’t cast any kind of a circle before calling the spirit: She hadn’t realized she was supposed to.

  And now…how could she ever get close enough to the spirit to send it back?

  Well�
��it’ll just have to stay out in the world, she told herself bravely. Too bad…but it’s not as if there aren’t other spirits floating around out there. Maybe if it doesn’t like roaming around, it’ll come back.

  But she was sick with guilt and disheartened. Not to mention worried—if only a little—about Gran’s fainting spell.

  Blaise didn’t come to bed. She stayed downstairs and worked on her necklace long into the night.

  On Monday, everyone at school was talking about Randy Marik and the ruined dance. The girls were annoyed about it and furious with Blaise; the boys were annoyed and furious with Randy.

  “Are you okay?” Dani asked Thea after world lit class. “You look kind of pale.”

  Thea smiled wanly. “It was a busy weekend.”

  “Really? Did you do something with Eric?” The way she said “do something” alerted Thea. Dani’s heart-shaped face looked as sweet and concerned as ever…but Thea couldn’t trust even her. She was a Night Person, a witch, a human-hater.

  It didn’t matter. Thea was so edgy that the words just seemed to burst out. “Do something like what? Smash his car? Turn him into a toad?”

  Dani looked shocked, her velvet-dark eyes wide.

  Thea turned and walked quickly away.

  Stupid, stupid, she told herself. That was so dumb of you. You may not have to pretend to be playing with Eric in front of Blaise anymore—but in front of the other witches you’ve got to keep acting.

  She headed almost blindly for Eric’s locker, ignoring the people she passed.

  I’ve only been here a week. How can everything in my life have become so awful? I’m at war with Blaise; I’ve worked a forbidden spell; I don’t dare talk to Gran—and I’ve broken Night World law.

  “Thea! I was looking for you.”

  It was Eric’s voice. Warm, eager—everything that Thea wasn’t. She turned to see green eyes flecked with dancing gray and an astonishing smile. A smile that drew her in, changing the world.

  Maybe everything was going to be all right, after all.

  “I called you yesterday, but I just kept getting the machine.”

  Thea hadn’t even looked at the answering machine. “I’m sorry—there was a lot going on.” Eric looked so kind that she groped for something that had been going on that she could tell him about. “My grandmother’s been sick.”