“So, wait,” Matt held up a finger. “Minor clarification. You’re a witch? Isn't a witch a woman?”
“Yea, that was something I wanted to ask you about.” I said to Amy. “What’s up with that? Shouldn’t I be a warlock, or a wizard, or something?”
She sighed. “Witch, in the arcane community, has no gender connotation. That is an entirely human invention. It is just that, witches have had such a sparse population, that it has been rendered to fanciful writers to determine that little piece of vocabulary.”
“All right, okay. So, yea, a witch.” I said. “But, yea, I can do magic, apparently. And I,” I paused to think about how to say this next for a moment. “Matt, I have this gift. I don’t really know how to use it yet, but I want to help people.”
Matt laughed. “Now I know you’re not jerking my chain. Only you would find out you have superpowers and decide to go the Spider-Man route.”
“Ha ha.” I rolled my eyes as I grabbed my toast when it popped out. “Well, we’ll see how this goes. I only found out about this two nights ago. I might turn out to be a really bad superhero.”
“So he says.” Amy rolled her eyes.
Matt turned his gaze to her. “Which brings us to Blondie…Amy, was it?”
“That’s what she calls herself. Amy is my guardian, I guess. She doesn’t like the angel description, so I guess she’s just a guardian.”
“So, you’re a witch, and you have a cute blond guardian chick?” Matt just opened up laughing. “Dude, your life has become a Joss Whedon show.”
I rolled my eyes, and Amy asked. “Who is-“
“That is really not important right now.” I interrupted. I looked down, and saw that, next to Amy’s chair, there was a canvas grocery bag. I hadn’t noticed that before, but I assumed I had just been too distracted by the lunacy of Matt holding a knife to her throat. I gestured to it. “What’s in the bag?”
“Legacy, Eric.” She hefted it up onto the table, and then reached into it. She withdrew a pair of small notebooks. They were each about the size of my hand, tied together by leather straps. “These are the recordings of your mother’s line. Unfortunately, only these two volumes have survived.”
“Who do these belong to?” I asked her.
“The older one is a compilation of both your mother and grandmother, though this one.” She held up a Moleskine notebook that had seen better days. “This one is your mother's.”
I paused, a long moment, before speaking. “My mother’s.” I whispered.
“Dude,” Matt put a hand on my arm. “This is big.” Matt had been one of the few I had confided in when I had stopped looking for any sign of my mother’s history. He knew what this was. I didn’t just have some random things from my mother. I had books from my mother.
“Yes, indeed.” Amy gave me an inquisitive look. “Eric, are you-“
I shook my head. “No. I’m not crying. And if you say I am, I’ll kick you out.”
We all were there, still, for some time. Finally, I picked up one of the notebooks. “Matt, meet me at the bar tonight. I’ll talk with you then, all right? And thanks for the bacon.”
Matt stood up and clapped me on the shoulder. “All right, man. Take it easy.”
“Yea, sure thing, man.” I said, wondering how the hell I would take it easy, all things considered. But, hey, I said I would, right?
Matt left to go do the suicidally intense run he would do whenever I wasn’t up for it. The man was in ridiculously good shape, but that’s what you got when you actually dedicate yourself.
I seated myself back down at the table, and thought about something. “Okay, just one minute. How did you just appear in my apartment?” I asked.
“You are the one I am supposed to protect. It requires I be near you, so that is what it takes.”
“Seriously?” I asked. “So, you just, what, think about me, and bam?”
“Something like that.” She nodded. “But it is very draining.”
“Limited.” I crossed my arms. “Okay, so.” I recounted what I’d seen her do so far. “You can teleport, do that…voice or whatever, thing. What else?”
“I can heal people.” She said. “Notice how your bite wound is mostly healed, even without it being bandaged?”
I thought about that, and I touched my neck. There it was. It had only been two nights ago, and it felt nearly as good as new, though I could feel the scars that had appeared. “Wow.” I murmured. “I hardly noticed that.”
“That is one of my more subtle abilities.” Amy noted. “As for the rest, they are minor and often inconsequential.” It sounded as if she was just dismissing these. Curious.
“So, uh, last night, I visited the Last Drop.”
She winced. “Oh, you stupid, stupid witch.” Amy ran a hand through her hair. “Why? What could have compelled you to go there?”
“Curiosity.” I shrugged. “I got information.”
“Like what?” She asked.
“Like, that Sam Coolidge had a fight with someone at the club the night she disappeared. And, she went home in a cab.” I said. “Oh, and that she was a werefox who liked vamps biting her. I don’t understand the appeal, but hey. Maybe it’s better when someone isn’t trying to suck the life out of you.”
Amy smiled. “So I have been told.” She said. “And what was the price asked of you for this information?”
“A favor, for Count Ishmael.” My subconscious ate at me, nagging at me for not telling her about Teresa.
“And you accepted?” She shouted. “Oh, you stupid, stupid witch!” She groaned.
“What? What’s wrong with a favor?”
Amy stood up. “It means that you are supernaturally indebted to the man. You have a small link with him now, and it means that there can be repercussions if you break your word.”
“Repercussions?” I furrowed my brow.
“Yes. A broken word is worse than many a crime in the Arcane world. You could end up in serious trouble.”
I sighed. “Well, it’s just a favor. We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.” I remarked. “Now, I want to eat my breakfast, and then I’m going to shower. And then we can do magic, all right?”
Amy sighed. “Very well. I do say, however, that you are a stupid, stupid witch.”
“Why do I have the feeling I’m not the first ward of yours you’ve referred to as such?”
“Because you inherit this particular trait from your mother.”
I chose to not answer but think on it. I ate my breakfast in silence, and then showered. I dressed in one of the bar’s t-shirts and a pair of jeans, since it was a work night.
When I came out, Amy had laid out both the books on the small table.
Amy had also cleared away my kitchen floor. She had a bag of salt from one of my cabinets, as well as a number of candles I had saved from back when I was still dating.
“So, what’s this?”
“The tools for your first spell, Eric.” She answered. “You have the brush still?”
“Yea, despite the guy from last night who tried breaking in.”
“What?” She snapped. “Someone tried to break in?”
I sighed. Yea, I had forgotten to mention that. “Uh, yea. One of the guys from yesterday at Francis’s office broke in. I think that he followed me home or something, and was looking for the brush. Why? I can’t say.”
“Another mystery among many.” She sighed. “Very well, bring the brush. Let us get to work.”
I went to my dresser, and grabbed the brush. “So, explain this to me. Walk me through it.”
“Certainly.” She said. “Symbolism is important. We have a part of Sam here, in this brush. What we’re going to do is create a link between one of her hairs and her.”
“All right. And the salt?”
“Salt is part of the process. What we are doing here is pretty advanced, at least for your experience. Salt is a magical substance, a containing element of sorts. We can use it to make a circle to harness magic
for the ritual. Ready to begin?”
“Just tell me what I need to do.” I said.
“Pour the salt in as near-perfect a circle as you can, large enough for you to kneel in. It should be large enough for you to spread your arms out, and still have them not leave the circle.”
I walked to the center of the kitchen, and stuck out my arms to guess how big of a circle I would need. Then I grabbed the back of salt, and started to pour. It took me a few tries to get it how I wanted, but after a few minutes, I was able to make a big enough circle.
Under her instruction, I put five candles at various points on the circle. “Okay, what’s with this?” I asked.
“You are creating a pentagram, a symbol of magic.” She gestured with her hands, and drew a five pointed star in the air. “The different points represent the elements.”
“Fire, water, earth, air, and...well, whatever you call the last one, depending on your mythology.”
“Correct,” She nodded. “I have always preferred the descriptor of spirit or void.”
I nodded, and lit each candle. The smell of vanilla filled the air. “Okay, so, now what?”
She reached into the bag, puling one last item. It was a battered compass. “You will need something to focus the results of the spell. The compass will be the focus of the spell. If we can successfully cast it, the needle will home in on Samantha Coolidge’s position.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
She clicked her tongue in a scolding manner. “Positive thoughts. Positive thinking is at the heart of magic. If you do not have confidence, why should the magic come to you?”
“What, are you saying magic has an ego or something?”
“It is all about self-fulfilling prophecies, Eric.” She moved to sit up on my counter, looking down at me. “Think about it. Magic is based on thoughts, and your own mental energy. If you do not believe in yourself, your mind will believe you will fail, and so the magic will not come.”
“Whoa.” I thought about that for a moment. “That’s actually pretty thoughtful.”
“Indeed.” She nodded.
Amy walked me through the rest of the process. I put the compass in front of a candle, and used a rubbed band to fasten one of the hairs to the compass. It seemed a little weird, but Amy explained it all out, the symbolism of tying what we wanted to find with the method of locating it.
When everything was set up, she started to instruct me. “All right, the first thing you want to do, is like before, close your eyes and open your senses. However, this time, there will not be a lot of magic for you to sense. The circle will help contain it, so you can gather it easier.”
I closed my eyes, and started to relax myself. I focused , trying to reach out and sense the magic. It wasn’t like it was in Pax two nights ago. There was no hum, no real feeling of the powerful energy. Instead, it was silence.
“I don’t sense it.” I told Amy.
“It is nowhere as strong here as it was in Pax. You need to wait, listen for it. It will not be a roar, but a whisper. Tiny little strings of magic.”
I did so. I relaxed myself, letting myself sink further and further into the senses of magic. It was like drifting in a pool, early in the morning before anyone else was there. Tranquil, quiet, with little to nothing to feel.
And suddenly, there it was. I felt it at the edge of my senses. It felt like a string just rubbing across the pad of a finger. Whether I just smiled in my head, or physically, I couldn’t tell.
“I feel it.” I reported to Amy. “It’s like a string, or something like it. Just a strand.”
“Take it, Eric.” She said. “Take a hold of it, imagine yourself wrapping it to your will.”
I made a small hum, not wanting to take my mind away from the strand further. I brought my mind back to the strand. I imagined taking it with one hand, and slowly wrapping it around my finger. Tying it off simply, at least in my head, I tugged on it.
Power, just a trickle of it, flowed into me. It was fantastic. I had never felt anything like it. It was like ice water dripping down my spine, chilling me, while it warmed my fingers and made them crackle with life.
“Take it into you, and let it fill you.” She said. “Now, focus that energy into the compass. Imagine it in front of you, and put your energy into it.”
I tried to think about it. I focused my thoughts on the compass, and wiled the energy to go to it. My brain could imagine the link between the two, like a plug or an aqueduct.
But it didn’t work. I pushed and pushed, tried to force the energy into it, but it wouldn’t budge from me. It felt hotter now in me, constantly raising my temperature.
“You are chewing your lip.” Amy said into my ear. “What is wrong?”
“I’m trying.” I grunted. “But it’s just not going into the compass.”
“You are forcing it. You cannot force magic. Stop. Let it go.”
“What?” I snapped. “What’s wrong?”
“Let go of the power. Cut it loose.”
I figured I would just ask later, when I wasn’t deep in thought. I imagined myself tossing the string away, cutting it off of me. When I did, it was scorching hot, and it singed where my imaginary fingers touched it.
My eyes shot open, and I grasped my hand. “Aw, son of a bitch!” I hissed. “That hurt!”
“Yea, it did.” Amy was standing just outside the circle. “Stand up, and let me see your hand.”
I did so, and I stepped out of of the circle. On two of my fingers, where I had imagined grasping the string, there was a fine red line, a little burn. “What? I thought that was just in my head.”
“The magic makes it real, Eric.” She said. “Magic cannot be forced. What you have to do is channel it. Make it into a stream that slowly puddles into the focus. You’re not ready to push magic like that, not yet.”
“What happens when I push magic?” I asked. “When I force it?”
She smiled. “Another day, in the future, I will explain.”
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? You just can’t tell me?”
“That is a more destructive manner of magic than I am willing to teach you right now. Better you grasp this simple magic first, than you try something foolish like trying to blow up something.”
I laughed a little. “Blow up stuff? Seriously?
“Indeed. But you are definitely not ready for that. Making magic actually manifest into something like a shield or a fireball takes practice. However, it is a very powerful tool.”
“Could my mother and grandmother do that?” I asked.
She nodded. “They had to. Magic is a powerful force. Magic, for the most part, is untapped most of the time. It stores energy, waits for a witch or other to tap it. When harnessed and directed, it is explosive. Not only is it powerful, but it is fast, and it ignores the resistances Arcanes can have to physical damage.”
“So, magic affects all things equally?”
“I would not say that. But it does level the playing field. Fire, especially.”
I nodded. “Fire. What’s so special about fire?”
“All things are equal in fire, Eric.” She said. “Everything burns.”
I nodded. “So, can we try again with the spell?” I asked. “I’ll try again, won’t try forcing anything.”
“Give it a few minutes.” Amy said. “Then we will try again.”
I went to the sink and put my burned fingers under some cold water. “So, what’s with the fact that you didn’t come into the circle?” I asked.
She shook her head as she replied.. “Salt is a barrier to things that are not totally corporeal.”
“Beg pardon? How’s that work?” I asked.
“Salt has properties that blocks things that are not corporeal, or at least, not completely so. Ghosts, Fae, they cannot cross barriers of salt.”
“And you can’t?”
“It is one of my rules. I cannot cross a salt barrier.”
I reminded myself to keep that in mind in the future.
“So, when you say I have to let the power flow like a stream into the compass, what do you mean?”
“Do not push it, do not direct it. Instead, imagine that you are pouring it, like you are watering a plant.”
I thought about that, and how I would visualize it in my head. It made sense, on some level. Some vague memories of physics classes came back to me, told me that it made sense.
After a few minutes, my burned finger was wrapped up, and Amy said it was time to try again. I knelt down in the circle, and closed my eyes. This time, I was able to find the strand much more quickly.
I grasped it, bound it to me, and felt the power once again fill me. This time, however, I cupped my hands, and imagined the power filing my hands like water. I moved my hands over the compass. I poured the energy down.
A new sensation flew through me. My fingers grew colder, the heat leaving them, pouring out onto the compass. The energy leaving me took on a yellow color, like pouring molten gold into the compass. It covered it, and slowly, golden strands started to wrap around my fingers, connecting me to the compass.
“The energy’s there, Amy.” I whispered. “What now?”
“You need a word, a word to focus on. To focus your energy on that compass, to tell it you want to find her. It is best if it is not English. You have to focus on the word.”
I searched through my memory of what I knew of French back from high school. I selected a word, and whispered as I focused on the compass.
“Trouver.” The magic lit even brighter, shining through the compass. The very air crackled around me with power. It flowed from my fingers until the power flowed straight from my hands into the compass.
“And stop.” Amy whispered.
I stopped pouring the magic, and I removed the strand of magic from my fingers. This time, however, it didn’t singe me. It was cool to the touch. I brought myself from the magic, and brought myself back to the real world.
It was exhilarating. I had done magic. I’d casted a spell. I grinned, manically. “I’m a freaking witch.” I found myself giggling.
“Indeed.” Amy was standing at the edge of the circle, smiling down at me. “Pick up the compass.”
West Coast Witch Page 8
