by Jack Massa
“Sure.”
During the call I realized someone was in the shop—although I never heard them open the door. Now I look up.
Margaret Alden is standing there in her black dress and pearls. She glares at me, furious. “This is all your fault!”
I’m as terrified as the first time I saw her, in my bedroom up in New Jersey. “What do you mean?”
“If you had worked with us instead of against us, Annie, we could have shared the power. We could have all been together.”
She’s crazy. She thinks I’m Annie Renshaw. “You know better than that,” I tell her. “You should have listened to Annie. You should never have conjured Raspis!”
The name makes her gasp. And then I understand what Otis was talking about—Margaret is possessed by Raspis. His presence is in her. I perceive his slimy energy hovering around and behind her like a damp, poisonous vapor.
From far away I hear myself screaming, “Get out of here!”
My knuckles are white on the steering wheel as I drive back to Bliss Bayou. The dread is relentless, a steady throbbing inside me. What can I do? What can I do?
When I get home, I tell Granma the news about Violet. She stares at me with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. I sense how frightened and hopeless she feels. She says maybe I should just stay at the house, not go into town anymore.
I tell her to try not to worry. Then I go and fix us some lunch.
As we eat our sandwiches, I turn over in my mind everything that Violet and Annie have told me. The more I think about it, the more it all adds up to just one thing—and the more clearly I see the path in front of me.
I have to go ahead with the advancement rites as quickly as possible. I need to become as powerful as I can to face whatever is going to happen.
That’s all there is now—the only thing to do.
At least it’s a plan.
That night, after settling Granma on the couch, I go up to my room. I set out the candle and incense and trace a circle of protection. I go through the Daily Ablution, then pick up the pages of the Second Advancement.
The Advancement to the Eternal Spring of Endurance.
Each Spring is a Fountain, and each Fountain a waymarker on the Path of True Magic. These things are secret and must not be taken lightly.
I read the ritual all the way through. Then I stare into the candle flame and begin the visualization.
I wait at the edge of a clearing, surrounded by forest. Lanterns are arranged in a spiral leading to the center, where a fountain of clear water spills over rocks. A guide appears. Her face is hidden by a hood, but I believe it’s Annie. She purifies me with water, then leads me onto the spiral path.
After some steps, the guardian appears. “None may pass this way who cannot vanquish me. Know you my name?”
My guide hands me a dagger, and I point it at the guardian. I recite the words which I’ve committed to memory: “Fear is your name. Terror is your name. The fear of facing the immeasurable truths of nature. The terror of knowing one’s own insignificance. By Endurance you are conquered—courage, strength of purpose, steadfast faith.”
The guardian bows and fades back into the darkness.
We walk on to the center of the maze. We stop before the fountain made of gray boulders, the water pouring down in steps from level to level. Annie pulls back her hood and smiles at me.
“We stand before the Spring of Endurance, the second waymarker on the path of true magic. Only by trial and courage is the spirit tempered and endurance attained. Each fear and doubt must be met, examined, and released. Only one who is brave and steadfast of purpose can advance farther on the path.”
She hands me a cup of dull gray metal, like pewter. I drink, and the taste is metallic.
Then darkness rushes up at me. I’ve plunged into freezing black water. For a second, I’m seized by terror, remembering my visions of drowning.
But this is different.
Wave after wave of blackness and fear wash over me, rocking and shoving me like I’m caught in rough surf. But I can breathe, and I struggle to keep my breath steady, to let the waves pass through me and disappear.
After a while, I don’t know how long, I’m back in front of the gray fountain, leaning on my hands and knees. I stand up. Annie is gone, replaced by…
I suck in my breath. I can’t believe it.
“Dad…Daddy!”
The luminous gray ghost of my father stands before me—wide shouldered, curly haired, and with a worn, sad face.
“Hello, baby.”
I want to hug him, but I’m afraid he’ll vanish into nothing. Like when he died.
“Dad. I’ve missed you so much.” I’m on the verge of sobbing, and so is he.
“I know, Abby. I’m so sorry. I screwed up.”
“Why did you leave us?”
“Because I was weak. I couldn’t face living. Living is hard…but it’s even harder to be dead and have so much regret.”
I stare at him, trying not to cry.
“I know I can’t make it up to you,” he says. “But I want to give you what little help I can. It’s only this: don’t run away, like I did. Once you start running away, it gets harder and harder not to run. Pretty soon, running away becomes who you are.”
As I listen to this, I realize how desperately I’ve wanted to run away these past two days, ever since Granma fell. I didn’t let myself think about it much, but now I do. I could call Mom tomorrow, get her to book me a flight. Leave all the terror behind. It might work…or I might go completely insane.
But there’s another way out. I could just give up, let Raspis have his way, drown myself in Bliss Bayou. The temptation is surprisingly strong—pain for a few minutes, then peace forever. Living is hard.
But it’s even harder to be dead and have so much regret.
“I understand, Dad.”
“One other thing,” he says. “Be kind to your mother. She’s a good, strong person, much better than I was. You’re sensitive like me, but you have her strength. You must thank her for that and not resent what she is.”
He’s right again. I have resented Mom for being so tough and driven, for caring more about her career than me, for leaving my senior year to go to England. I need to let that go.
“Abby,” Dad says. “I love you. It would mean so much if you could forgive me.”
I see a tear sliding down his cheek. “Yes, Daddy, I forgive you. I love you too.”
The ghost of my father steps close and wraps his arms around me. He does not feel like a ghost at all, but a solid, living man—the one I’ve loved and missed for so long.
I clutch him, shaking, until I lose all track of time, of who and where I am.
When awareness comes back, I’m lying on the floor in my bedroom. The candle and incense have gone out. My face is wet from crying.
Wednesday, two days before the full moon.
When I get to the shop around noon, I send a text to my mother: “Just saying Hi. Hope U R OK.”
We’ve gotten out of the habit of texting every day, so I guess she’s surprised to hear from me. She replies in a few minutes: “Busy, but fine. How R U?”
“OK. Granma fell and broke her ankle, but I’m helping her out.”
“Oh no! Anything I can do?”
“We got it covered. She’ll be on crutches for a while.”
“Sure you’re okay?”
“Sure. I’m proud of you, Mom. Don’t work too hard.”
“I’m proud of you! Let me know if you need anything.”
I feel better having gotten in touch with her. If something bad happens to me, at least she’ll know I was thinking of her and that I felt good about what she was doing.
I spend the afternoon in town, keeping both the antique shop and Kevin’s bookstore open. Kevin called this morning to let us know there was still no change in Violet’s condit
ion. He had come home to sleep but was heading back to the hospital. Granma suggested it would be a kindness if I opened the bookstore for part of the day.
Granma seemed better this morning. Like she’s gotten over some of the shock and is adjusting to being confined. We haven’t talked more about Raspis or the threat hanging over us. I want her to put that out of her mind as much as possible, and to rest. I know she appreciates my taking care of her. Thinking about it, I suppose no one has taken care of her at all since my grandfather died.
As for me, I’m in a kind of zombie mode. I’m handling all the outside reality—driving the car, talking to customers, selling books—but my mind is elsewhere. I feel calm and numb. When I think about it, I realize I’m digesting the magical energy raised by the advancement rites, absorbing power like a sponge.
That’s me: a numb zombie sponge of magic power.
In my vision, I see a fountain with two columns of shining stone, one white and one black. Clear water tumbles from the tops of the columns into a gray pool at their base.
Annie Renshaw pulls back her hood. “Before us lies the Spring of the Sacred Balance, the third waymarker on the path of true magic. All the many worlds are formed by contending forces. Only at the point of balance does contention cease. Only by finding your inner place of balance can you wield the purest magic.”
She hands me a goblet of cobalt blue glass.
When I drank from the second Spring, I was plunged into darkness. This time I’m blasted by light, brilliant and blinding. I squint and shade my eyes.
When the pulses of light diminish enough, I see a tall woman. She has wild black hair and glittering eyes. Torches of many colors flash in the air around her. I know her from the image on Thomas Renshaw’s ring—the Great Goddess Who Shapes All Things.
I’m awed and terrified. Instinctively I bow. But then I hear my own voice asking, “What is your name, spirit?”
She notices me for the first time and looks almost surprised. Her voice is soft and hollow. “I am known by many names.”
She lifts something in her hand—a Tarot card. As I recognize the High Priestess, the card grows huge and sucks me in. Then I’m standing before the throne of the High Priestess, but I know it is still the Goddess.
She stares at me, calm and gentle. “What would you ask of me?”
I didn’t expect that. “Umm. There is an evil spirit who wants to kill me—and other people who are dear to me. I must learn how to banish him or…defend us from him.”
She considers before answering. “Behind me are the hidden sources of creation. The river of the Universe flows at my feet. I sit at the gateway between two pillars—light and darkness, love and strife. The contention of these forces causes all things to be. To wield the highest magic, you must station yourself at this gateway, the point of perfect balance. Then your will can shape what flows into manifestation. So all things are possible.”
I’ve focused hard to understand her words. My impulse is to ask how—how can I do that?
But in an instant, like the blink of an eye, the vision is gone and I’m back in my bedroom.
I lie flat on my back and breathe.
Thursday, the day before the full moon.
I’m cleaning up the breakfast dishes when I hear the brass knocker on the front door. Granma calls me, but I’m already running from the kitchen. I pull open the door and see Molly.
“Hi. Just checking in to see how you’re doing.”
I’m really glad to see her. I fix her an iced coffee, and we talk while I finish the dishes. I let her know Granma is doing okay, and that there’s no news on Violet. Also, no further occult events—at least not in the attack category. I explain that I’m working on magic every night to make myself stronger because I believe things are coming to a head.
The one piece of news Molly has is about the Wainwright brothers. They’ve been released on bail. No one knows who gave them the money, which was a lot more than they should have been able to raise. Chief Quick is unhappy. He was hoping to keep them locked up till they went to court.
“Oh, and Ray-Ray is off the night shift. He’s working days again. He asked me to say hi, and to tell you to call him if you need anything.”
That gives me a little glow as I stand over the kitchen sink. “Tell him I…that I said thanks for caring about me.”
That sounds dorky even to me. But Molly just nods.
We go to the living room and sit with Granma. She tells Molly about the novel she’s reading, and we have a gabfest about different books and movies. Granma likes romance and classic British novels. Molly favors mystery stories, while I’m into urban fantasy. Too bad all this reminds me of how far behind I am on my summer reading list.
Well, I’ve been a little busy.
When it’s time for me to drive into town, Molly offers to go with me or to stay and keep Granma company. I tell her I’d be happy either way, but Granma’s been alone a lot, and if she doesn’t mind staying…
Granma tut-tuts about imposing on Molly, but I can tell she’s enjoying the company.
Molly says she’ll be glad to stay. “But if I get annoying, Miss Kathryn, you just tell me to buzz off.”
When I get to the shop, I call Kevin. He’s hanging out at the hospital, and there is still no change. He thanks me for keeping his store open and says that waiting and doing nothing is starting to drive him nuts. So he’ll probably come in to work tomorrow, and he would be happy to cover Granma’s shop as well.
I close up at five and drive back home. Molly’s waiting for me on the front porch. Granma started to look tired, so Molly left her to take a nap.
“We talked all afternoon, Abby. I didn’t mean to interview her about the Circle of Harmony, but it sort of turned out that way.” Molly looks grave, almost heartbroken. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to write about it. I couldn’t. My journalistic detachment is all gone. The stuff she told me, about losing your grandfather, then your dad. And what happened to her this week, and to Violet. It’s not only scary—it’s so cruel.”
“I know.”
Molly looks at me hard. “What are you going to do, Abby?”
“Good question. I’m working on it.”
“I know you are. I want to help, but I don’t know how.”
I touch her shoulder. “You being my friend helps a lot.”
Molly stiffens. “That’s not enough. There must be something I can do, Abby. Please!”
I look off into the trees. I only wish she could help. But I’ve seen enough to know this battle will happen in the spirit world. Molly being with me won’t help—and she might end up getting hurt.
I promised Ray-Ray I would try to protect her. I peer into her eyes. “Molly, you need to trust me on this. You need to pay me that respect, okay?”
Her chin drops, her face forlorn.
I hug her. “If there’s anything you can do, I’ll call. I promise.”
Molly sniffles. “Day or night, okay?”
When I go inside, Granma is sitting up on the couch. She looks at me, a bit worried. “I probably told Molly more than I should have.”
“It’s okay, Granma. We can trust her.”
That night I go to the fourth Spring.
I’ve gotten to the point where I just have to read the advancement ceremony through once. Then I immediately go into a vision and things happen.
The Fountain of Amity is all of gold, the pure water falling down through seven basins.
Annie says, “Behold you the Spring of Amity, the fourth waymarker on the path of true magic. At the previous Spring, you learned that power comes through balancing forces. But lest you do evil with your magic, you must learn the lesson of Amity—that is, the law of love for all beings in all worlds. Desire tainted by greed or lust may produce effective magic, but desire sprung from selfless love will always be the stronger. Only by surrendering selfish motives to
the higher good does the magician advance farther on the path.”
She hands me a gold cup to drink. When I lower the cup, Annie is gone, and I’m standing alone before the fountain.
I’m wondering what to do next, when I hear a voice like faraway thunder, coming from inside the water.
“What do you seek?”
I have to collect my wits to answer. “I am Fighting Eagle, initiate of the Circle of Harmony. I seek to advance on the path of true magic. What is your name, spirit?”
“I am Lebab. I welcome you, Fighting Eagle.”
Whoa. His power feels enormous. And different from the Great Goddess’. She seemed huge and distant, like the night sky full of stars. He is here, now, all around me. Like the earth.
“I-I need your help.”
“Yes. And I need your help,” Lebab answers. “My power has been bound by magic. One of my five Springs has been closed. Now humans are raising that same force again. Look into the waters.”
I obey, and see a vision within the vision. The attic at the Alden house. Fiona stands in a circle with three others, all in hooded robes. They are chanting, striking the air with wands, raising a dark shadow in their midst.
“This is the ritual by which they will raise power, vast power, to augment the evil force. They will draw you there, Fighting Eagle. They will ask you to join them because of your talent. If you refuse, they will take your life and use the terror released by your death to empower them. If they succeed, the Springs will die. But if you can raise my power, release it into your world, I can save you and the Springs of Harmony.”
“How can I raise your power? What must I do?”
“The knowledge you need is in the book that I gave to your founders.”
22. The Book of Lebab
Friday. The day of the full moon.
Right after breakfast, I tell Granma I’m going to town early—there’s some stuff I need to do on the internet. She’s groggy from sleep and the pain meds, and she doesn’t ask any questions.
When I get to the shop, I phone Kevin. He answers from his car. He’s on his way to the shop now. Violet is still in a coma, no change. I know this is bad. From what I’ve read online, the longer a patient is in a coma from head trauma, the less likely they are to recover. Then a thought comes: Whatever happens tonight will sway Violet’s fate—one way or the other.
