Hallowed Circle

by Linda Robertson

  Ahhh, yesssssss.

  All these lines were energy, all had the ability to access the dead, some more than others. Among these cords was a highway to the Summerland, a threaded conduit for traveling—if you weren’t bound to a physical body, that is. In astral travel, where the spirit leaves the body, a sorcerer could visit the dead, other entities, and perform all kinds of nonphysical tasks. Of course, there had to be protections in place so that nothing slipped into the sorcerer’s body while the spirit was absent. This bit of chalk, salt, and water wasn’t up to that level of protection. I had to call spirits to me.

  Which cord was it? Which string to pluck?

  Spirits have a certain feel. The nerve endings just below skin discern them the same way they gauge temperature. Though intangible, the information registers in the brain. Most people wouldn’t recognize the texture of a spirit, as they discern more strongly on the reaction they have to it: the hair on the nape of their neck rises and, possibly, goose bumps rise. Anyone who’s ever been in a truly haunted house knows that the malign variety of spirit also strokes their flight response.

  With the static buffer covering my palm, I sorted through the cords; patiently searching for that texture, like steam and silk, the one that evoked the reaction in me. Finally, I found it. Visualizing the static glove holding tight to that cord, my hand slipped a measure away—no sense risking getting pulled in.

  “Arise spirits, hear my call,

  Arise between the drawn walls.

  Listen now and hasten near!

  I’ve an offer for you to hear.”

  Reaching for the little stones with my right hand, I came up with a rainbow moonstone in my palm. As an afterthought, I grabbed the carnelian and sat it before me, for courage. Using the moonstone like a mini-planchette on my makeshift witchboard, I began to spell the words.

  Am making a protrepticus.

  A spirit-house.

  Who will live in it?

  I watched the edge of my circle. The ring just outside this one shimmered as if there were dust in the air illuminated by flickering sunbeams. Spirits came and peeked in, little orbs flashing by, more than I could count.

  Who is willing?

  The parade of orbs continued; it was fascinating. In my heart, I began to hope that Lorrie would come by and be willing. It would be a way for Beverley and her to communicate and stay in touch. But that was an exponentially long, long shot.

  What was I thinking? I was supposed to fail this round.

  Go now.

  Never mind.

  I had participated. The Elders could not punish me if I lost my nerve, if I sabotaged myself, or if it appeared that no spirits would take me up on my offer.

  Thank you.

  A light glistened on my face.

  An orb was hovering about three feet off the ground in the outer circle. It remained steady. Others did not follow, did not pass through. This one waited.

  Go on. Return.

  From the little collection of stones, a pointy quartz crystal trembled and slid across the wood floor to the chalk letters before me. I lifted the moonstone out of the way. The crystal looped along in little circles, pausing briefly to spell out:

  Too late for that.

  Oh shit.

  Proceed.

  Concentrating on the orb, I whispered, “You give permission?”

  You did not ask for it.

  “I just did.”

  Verbally.

  Great. A difficult spirit. “You want me to spell it?”

  Offering.

  My brows hunkered down. Right. To take something from the beyond, I have to balance it by giving something back to the beyond. This was where, in ancient cultures, the sacrifice came in. But I had no animal to trade, and wasn’t sure I would have been able to if I did. I had stones, herbs, chalk, and candles; all tangible items.

  “What offering is appropriate?”

  Your soul for mine.

  “No way. Absolutely not.”

  Ha ha.

  What the hell? A difficult, jokester spirit? “No deal.”

  Promise me vengeance.

  “Vengeance?”

  Avenge my wrongful death.

  “I don’t know the details, or even the era of your death. I cannot promise vengeance, but I can promise to investigate to the extent of my abilities.”

  More than investigation. Action! Punishment!

  My curiosity was piqued. As Lustrata, this would be acceptable. “What if you are lying?”

  Was murdered!

  “Yes. I will investigate and if you are wrongfully dead and if a course of action exists that I can take to avenge your death—without harming me and mine—I will.”

  The crystal spun in place three times.

  Agreed.

  “You will be housed in this.” I held up the cell phone, hoping it would decline to live in the contraption.

  Agreed.

  Now all I had to do was bring the spirit into the middle circle, put it in the cell phone, bind it there, and seal it in. The “easy” part was done. The next part would bind me to this phone, and to this spirit who wanted vengeance.

  I really didn’t want to be the high priestess.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I drew a little square in the air just above the ground at the edge of my circle. “Open now the door.” I pushed the cell phone through into the space. “Sealed again is the door.” No sense taking the risk of a nasty spirit getting to me and having to fight unnecessarily.

  I drew another door, higher up, and orb-sized, imagining it opening in the wall of the circle beyond.

  “Spirit, there is the door.

  Pass now, from outer circle into mid.

  Spirit, enter now the door.

  Come forth, as ye will and as I bid.”

  The orb floated forward, pushing through the space where I had indicated the door should be. It entered the middle circle.

  “Sealed again is the door.”

  Now … how to fail?

  “Spirit!” The Eldrenne’s voice made me look up. She stood three steps beyond my set of circles. I glanced at the other contestants. Hunter was working; Maria looked frustrated. As an afterthought, I shot a glance at the dais and wished I hadn’t. The Eldrenne still sat on her throne.

  And yet she was here as well.

  Bi-location. Probably only I could see her here; she might have had mirror images with each of the other contestants as well.

  “Do you understand the purpose of a protrepticus?” she asked the spirit.

  The crystal slid around the floor and spelled:

  Triple three fold.

  The Eldrenne nodded sagely. She asked me, “Do you understand the ownership of a protrepticus?”

  “No,” I said honestly.

  “You will keep it with you at all times”—she held up a hand—“you do not have to take it into the shower, but it must be within six yards of you. Water will not harm the spirit, but if the spirit’s house rusts, you’ll deal with rust in your pockets, so tending it properly is expected. The item will not require an actual electrical charge but it will feed off your energy; the more you use it, the more it will take. Until you get used to it, be careful.”

  “Will it take a significant amount of energy?”

  “You’re holding a spirit in this world and sustaining it, in an item.”

  “That’s a yes?”

  “Yes.”

  My intake of breath was telling.

  “Are you unwilling?” she asked sweetly.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  The Eldrenne’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Proceed or be Bindspoken.”

  “That’s a no, then.”

  “What do you choose, Persephone Isis Alcmedi?”

  “I choose to ask what ‘triple three fold’ means, specifically.”

  She laughed. “I like you, Persephone.” She clasped both hands around her staff and said, “There are three souls involved here, yours, the spirit’s, and mine. The pr
otrepticus does three things to each of the three of us. It binds us, obligates us, and allows us. It binds spirit to object, witch to spirit, and Elder to witch. It obligates the spirit to work on your behalf, obligates you to tend the object and sustain the spirit, and obligates me to allow you admittance to any and every WEC meeting and grants you a voice and a vote. And, lastly, it allows the spirit to continue participating in ‘existence,’ allows you access to Council Elders, spells, and information as needed, and it allows the Council to communicate directly with and locate you if necessary.”

  Consensual SM aside, for most people bondage is a bad thing. Magical binding is no different. In fact, the binding of anyone to anyone else or anything is, generally, frowned upon by witches. All bonds tamper in some way with freedom and that’s always a negative. It was why the stain made me feel dirty and angered me so much. In order to avoid more of that, and to preserve the secrecy of the stain I already had, more questions needed to be asked.

  “What exactly do you mean when you say it binds me to the spirit and you to me?”

  “The spirit must be sustained by you, it must be nearby at all times.”

  “What if I forget it at home? What if it falls out of my pocket and is run over by a car? What if my dog eats it?”

  The Eldrenne shook her head. “If the protrepticus passes beyond the realm of six yards from your aura, the spirit’s connection will be severed and the spirit will return to the other side. If your dog eats it, you must remain within the distance until it is passed through the dog’s system, and then you must collect all the pieces. I would suggest you then wash them thoroughly.” Ick. “The same if it were run over by a car; gather and place the pieces into a leather pouch and keep it with you.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I will know, so no, that won’t be ‘it.’ ”

  Aha. “Okay. And the ‘binding of you to me’ part?”

  Despite blue film on her rheumy eyes, I’d have sworn she stared right at me. “It is equivalent to claiming you into my lucusi, my sacred grove … my own coven.”

  So. This was supposed to be an honor. I didn’t know her policies, so I didn’t know if I agreed with them, but I undeniably liked her. And if being bound to her didn’t reveal the stain, then maybe she could help me not succumb to Menessos. They had a history. I was sure she knew things I’d want and need to know. Nana told me to watch the Elders and see who the Lustrata thought was worthy of being called on. Of the five Elders, I’d have to choose the Eldrenne.

  “You hesitate, child?”

  “How is the binding to be done?”

  “I bind myself to you exactly when you bind yourself to the spirit and object, and I do so in the same manner, so it is a binding of your choice. If you choose to proceed.”

  I wondered how many Bindspoken witches there were out there, who had opted out at this moment.

  There was no such thing as a “loose” binding. Layers of it, but none were loose. The vampire mark was a binding; if he marked me again it would be like adding another layer of control and connectedness, until it had the capacity to be complete. It’s an all-or-nothing kind of thing. But how to do it to keep her from seeing or feeling the vampire’s binding? I wasn’t sure that was possible. But if I stopped, I was surely Bindspoken. To be the Lustrata, I couldn’t be Bindspoken. The only chance of avoiding that was to proceed and hope she didn’t come to know of it.

  “I will proceed.”

  Grasping the black thread from the items I’d moved to the smaller circle, and then taking up the crystal the spirit had used to spell with, I stood and closed my eyes. Boosting my personal shields, I said:

  “My inner circle wall is dropped,

  But this spell is not stopped.”

  Imagining the barrier between myself and the spirit and phone dissipating, my eyes opened. The spirit remained hovering where it was, glowing softly, and waiting. It made no move of aggression. Good. Good sign. I moved closer and went down into a crouch with one knee on the floor, the other up should I need to move fast.

  Unwinding a length of black thread, I severed three long pieces with candle fire and slipped them under the cell phone. Feeling a tug, I glanced over my shoulder. The image of the Eldrenne was holding three hairs she’d just pulled from my scalp, rolling them in her fingertips.

  “Willingly you submit, willingly I grant.

  You into this device I now implant.

  I claim responsibility for your care.

  Sustaining you with energy I will share.”

  I placed the crystal on the display centered in the gray cell phone. The spirit-orb lowered until it hovered just over the crystal. I circled the phone with a ring of salt, then lifted the strings up, saying,

  “Three strings hold you.”

  I began to tie them and said:

  “Three knots bind you.”

  Sparks scintillated in every direction as the strings went tight around the orb. I pulled it as tightly as I dared, amazed that the orb was tangible. One knot, two, and three.

  The orb was throwing light like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. Quickly, I drew the dagger Lydia had returned to me and cut my index finger.

  “Three drops seal you.”

  Behind me, I heard the Eldrenne begin chanting. Salt crawled from the bowl like an army of tiny white ants and encircled me.

  “Willingly you have competed.

  Willingly your measure I have meted.

  Into my lucusi you are now impressed

  For you have truly passed the test

  I claim responsibility for your care.

  Sustaining you with knowledge I will share.”

  She opened her hand, and the rainbow moonstone I had been using rose from the floor and flew into her palm. She slid my hairs around it.

  “Three hairs hold you.”

  She began to tie them and said:

  “Three knots bind you.”

  My spine arched and I felt bright inside. Sparks scintillated before my eyes, sparks that weren’t real, not outside of me, but existed only inside my head, inside my spine. Stretched tight, every firework trail burned under my skin. The first knot she tied felt as if it were around the vertebra between my shoulder blades. The second knot tightened around my chest at the sternum, expelling all the air from my lungs. The third knot coiled around my neck, then dropped to my sternum, tightening like a noose, choking me.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  An eternity passed before she whispered, “And three drops seal you.”

  My need for air grew.

  Blood dripped from her old finger onto the rainbow moonstone; I felt it. I felt each drop like a giant forge hammer crushing me, flattening me like molten steel, until the binding became fused to each and every cell in my body, an amalgamation that could never, ever be undone.

  Wind suddenly spiraled up around me, a tornado inside the cylinder of my circle. The stones and salt blasted the edges around me. The brightness inside of me shone from my every pore, illumined my skin, and flashed from my eyes.

  I couldn’t move. All I could do was feel and think … and all I could think was, Is this how the Eldrenne’s eyes got filmy?

  When the light faded, I collapsed to the wooden floor. The little stones hailed down, pelting me. Chalk dust and salt floated down. I coughed. Exhaustion overwhelmed me and I gave in to it.

  When I awoke, it seemed Maria and Hunter were doing exactly the same. “Awaken ye witches!” the Eldrenne called.

  My circle was still up. I spoke the release of it, barely holding off a yawn and stretch until the task was done. Standing, brushing chalk dust and salt off my clothes and shaking it out of my hair, I faced the dais.

  “Vampires,” she said.

  Menessos, Sever, and Heldridge rose from their seats and strode toward us. The two lesser vampires flanked Menessos; I enjoyed watching him walk toward me. He moved fluidly, so confidently.

  I suddenly realized how his self-assurance impressed me. There were many people in my life w
ith qualities I admired, qualities I knew the Lustrata needed to outwardly demonstrate. I promised myself that as the Lustrata I would study, train, and adapt. I wanted every possible advantage in my arsenal.

  A few yards away, Menessos slowed, stopped. He gestured to Heldridge, who approached Hunter and shook her hand, spoke. When Heldridge moved to Maria, Menessos gestured Sever on.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Persephone,” Heldridge said to me. He wasn’t convincing.

  What was appropriate to say? “Likewise.”

  He bowed his head slightly and strode toward the seats. Sever stepped up to me next. “Best of luck to you, Miss Persephone.” He flashed that little-boy grin.

  “Thank you, Sever.” He, too, stepped away.

  I pulled up my witch hand-jolt shield and wrapped it around me as Menessos came to stand before me. Surely he was shielding as well, because my body detected only a mildly desirous reaction as he slipped his hand into mine, and lifted it to his lips. The chivalrous gesture made me think of Arthur, and how before I’d ever met this vampire, Menessos’s visage was the same as Arthur’s in my dreams. He whispered, “I shall be seeing you, Persephone Alcmedi. Soon.” His breath on the back of my hand was like the desert wind on my aura. But that heat couldn’t get through.

  The Eldrenne stood, stamped her staff once on the dais floor. “Hasten into the night, drinkers of blood. Your honored participation is acknowledged with gratitude. May you drink and rest before the dawn.”

  The eastern doors opened.

  “By your leave,” Menessos said. He gestured and was preceded in exiting by the others. At the doorway, he glanced sweepingly over the contestants, and down the row of Elders. Then he was gone. The doors clanged shut.

  “Lydia,” the Eldrenne said. “Bring the others.”

  Lydia curtsied once and walked away toward the stairs.