by Shannon Page
It couldn’t have lasted more than a minute, but it felt like hours. Gregorio at last dropped his arm, and the atmosphere in the room slowly returned to normal. I was not the only one gasping for breath.
Before us, Flavius wept and drooled in his chair. If he were human, he would probably have wet himself.
Gregorio turned formally once more to look at all the tribunal members. “His defenses are strong. He did not use the stolen essence lightly. I shall move to the Foulian search.”
“No!” Flavius gasped. “Can’t you see? I’m not hiding anything!”
Gregorio looked very, very sad as he raised his right arm once more.
This time I did close my eyes and fold myself into Sebastian’s embrace. My friend held me tightly. We shivered together. I tried not to know it—any of it.
At last, it was done. I pulled out of Sebastian’s arms and looked up, expecting to see an entirely broken warlock trapped in the chair before us.
Flavius did look shattered—a hollow relic of himself—but he opened his mouth to speak. In a cracked, hoarse voice, he said, “It is true. I thought I hid it well enough, but I was wrong.”
A small intake of breath—not a gasp, but something below that—went through the audience behind us.
“It was not my idea,” he went on, his tone wooden. His fight broken. “They came to me… They said I could have more power, and I would not need to harm anyone. That it would actually help, in the battle. I did overreach, though, at first, when I was learning. It felt good. And I regret that, I hate myself for that. I worked hard to soften the impact of my spell… It was not supposed to be so strong.” He blinked, looking around at the tribunal members, at us, at the gathered audience. His eyes were wide, desperate. “Please…believe me. I did not mean to do harm. But I did. I tried to fix it, but…then I could not stop myself. It felt so good… I could not stop taking it.”
“Who came to you?” Gregorio asked.
“Two men, warlocks, from the Old Country,” Flavius went on dully. “They told me they were helping to fight the Iron Rose… I think now that they must have been lying.”
Gregorio nodded his head curtly. “I am quite certain of it. Thank you, Flavius Winterheart. Your confession is sufficient; we shall not need the testimony of the witnesses.”
Beside me, Sebastian sighed in dark relief. I took his hand again.
“Now we shall pass sentence,” Gregorio went on. “What say you, tribunal members?”
“I say permanent ensorcelment,” said Henrik, one of the Elders.
“I say banishment from this plane, and a petition to our ancestors for further punishment in the Beyond,” said one of the coven mothers I did not know. Her face was grim and furious.
“I agree with Elder Henrik,” my father said. “The crime was dire, but the criminal should remain on this plane, to witness the results of his actions. And to help us find and prosecute his confederates.”
“The trouble with a permanent ensorcelment is that the word ‘permanent’ means no such thing,” Gregorio pointed out. “We like to think we can control all variables, but I believe the folly of such notions should be clear by now. I had no idea that a warlock, working so closely with me on my own research, had deceived me so thoroughly.”
“He would figure out a way to unsorcel his magic,” the angry coven mother said. I wondered if one of her witches was lying ill in the clinic. “Look how crafty he is. I say send him Beyond, let them deal with him.”
“I do not favor sloughing off our problems on our ancestors,” my father put in. “The man committed his crimes here: he should atone for them here.”
“Father, if I may?” Jeremy put in, from the audience.
All eyes turned to him. Gregorio raised an eyebrow. “Yes, my son?”
“In the Old Country, troubled times have, sadly, led to greater experience with grievous crimes. A way has been devised of effectively making an ensorcelment actually permanent.”
“What does that mean?” Gregorio looked back at him, frowning.
“Well,” Jeremy said, “it isn’t an ensorcelment, exactly. It is a way of burning out magical power, leaving only…well, human bodily functions.”
This time the room really did gasp. “Turn him into a human?” Sebastian blurted.
“Essentially, yes.”
I shook my head. Awful…but then again, so was working with terrorists to steal essence. Stealing my best friend from me—and from herself, as Logan was not even enjoying the next phase of life in the Beyond. She’d been knocked out of existence altogether, for all that anyone could tell. I steeled my resolve and nodded. As though it were up to me.
Gregorio, however, noticed. He gave me a gentle glance before turning back to Jeremy. “You can perform this action?”
Jeremy looked very grim. “I can, Father. I have done so…twice.”
My stomach hurt at the thought. I’d slept with that man, made a baby with him. And he’d… I couldn’t think about it. I silently vowed never to travel to the Old Country. I did not want to know such ugliness any more closely.
Gregorio turned back to the tribunal. “What say you, colleagues?”
“If true, it sounds a meet and just sentence,” my father said. One by one, the other members concurred.
“Then it shall be done.” Gregorio looked at the prisoner. “Flavius Winterheart, after due consideration of your crimes, and the confession from your own lips, the Greater San Francisco Bay Area Elders and coven mothers hereby sentence you to a permanent removal of your magic.”
“It’s called cautery,” Jeremy put in, softly.
Gregorio nodded. “Jeremiah Andromedus will perform this cautery at his earliest convenience.”
In his chair, Flavius Winterheart wept.
— CHAPTER EIGHTEEN —
Gregorio asked to come visit me early in the morning a few days later. I received him in my front parlor. As we sat over cups of tea, he said, “I wanted to fill you in on what we have found out, and speak to you about something.”
“All right,” I said. “I’m still trying to figure out how he managed to drain the essence in the first place—how he got the agent to witches when he wasn’t even near them.”
“It functions something like a virus, as we suspected,” Gregorio said. “Except that it can stay in the environment longer than actual viruses. I believe he was working on pinpointing his attacks, but he lost control of it once it left his hands, particularly in the earliest days.” The ancient warlock paused. “I believe he used you as a carrier, to bring the affliction to Logandina Fleur.”
I frowned, feeling sick and sad all over again. I had wondered. “You don’t think he was targeting me? I have a lot more power than Logan…did.”
“No; he says he was not, and he can no longer lie, after the Foulian. He was going for marginal witches at first, unaffiliated ones.”
“But—my mother isn’t at all marginal. Am I a carrier—still?”
“If you are, the potency of what you carry is nearly exhausted. But we will treat you, now that we know what we are looking for.”
“Okay.”
“I do not believe Belladonna contracted it from you, however. It had been loose in the community for some time by then. She very likely picked it up from someone in her tarot circle.”
“Ah.”
Gregorio took another sip of his tea. “A small portion of the missing essence has been found at Dr. Winterheart’s home, though not nearly the amount stolen. I fear his Iron Rose confederates have absconded with the rest. We will continue our efforts in hunting them down, but meanwhile, the community here will have to continue its donation efforts for a while longer yet. Though I am also working on developing an essence-boosting supplement.”
“I can—” I started, but Gregorio put up his hand.
“You are pregnant, Calendula. No donation from you.”
“I was going to say I can help in that research,” I said with a smile. “I’d like to participate in any way I can
.”
“Ah. Well, let me get started, and then I will see where I can bring you in.”
“Thank you.”
There was another pause as Gregorio finished his tea and set the cup down in its saucer. “I have learned more about cautery from Jeremiah. It must be performed by two practitioners, working in concert. Layering and reinforcing their magic.”
“Oh,” I said. This had a sickeningly familiar ring to it.
“Logandina Fleur had no living family, nor coven,” Gregorio continued. “As her closest friend, you are the most aggrieved party. Additionally, you have already worked complex magic in collaboration with Jeremiah.”
I glanced down at my belly and blushed.
The ancient warlock cleared his throat. “I meant your house wards, but, yes, that as well. In any event, the tribunal has decided that you and my son shall perform the cautery together.”
I took a slow breath, trying to force down my thoughts: No, don’t make me do this, no! “I…don’t know how.”
Gregorio looked grim. “You are not expected to. He will guide you. With your biological training, you will pick it up easily enough.”
“All right.” I blindly reached down to find Elnor, to take comfort in her feline presence, but she was back in the kitchen, keeping herself away from the warlock.
“My apologies for what lies ahead,” Gregorio said. “I am told it is not pleasant.”
“I would expect not.”
His gaze softened. “Calendula Isadora, on behalf of witchkind and for myself personally, I would like to offer my sincere condolences on the loss of your friend Logandina Fleur, and to promise you that true punishment and atonement will be made, on this day.”
It had the sound of ritual to it, though it was not one I had heard before.
Then again, I had never lost anyone before.
I felt a lump grow in my throat. “I thank you, Gregorio Andromedus.”
He nodded and rose to his feet. “The cautery will take place at sundown today. If you like, I will return here and escort you there.”
“I would like that. Thank you.” I supposed it was the least he could do.
“Of course. Thank you for the tea.”
It was a quiet day. I knew the whole community felt the grave weight of the deed we had sanctioned, though I envied them. They got to just let it happen, somewhere else.
I had to help do it.
Sending Flavius to the Beyond would have been larger, by one way of looking at it; but my father had been right. The Beyond was a wondrous place—though mysterious and wild, and of course only vaguely understood by those of us here. It was the next level in our progression to our ultimate joining with the Great Mother, and we all looked forward to moving there, even if a bit nervously, when our time on this plane was done. Sending him there could turn out to be a reward.
Turning him effectively into a human, forcing him to stay here among us all, could only be a punishment.
And what would happen when he eventually died? Or maybe not so eventually? Would the cautery remove his magic-given long life?
Was he destined to follow the humans to their afterlife—would he now be barred from the Beyond? Oh, surely not.
Probably.
I spent the day trying to distract myself by working with Petrana in the lab, reinforcing the energetic pathways we had built and strengthened between us. Preparing for the research work Gregorio would have for me later, I hoped. Preparing my golem to be a more useful adjunct for me.
In the late afternoon, Gregorio sent word that he was on his way over.
I am ready, I sent back.
I stood before the full-length mirror in my bedroom. What does one wear to execute a strange and terrible punishment? I had gone for something between “funeral” and “jury duty”: narrow black pants, a long-sleeved maroon turtleneck, and a black jacket. My hair was tightly braided in a single tail down my back, and my boots were low-heeled and practical.
Gregorio gave a nod of approval when I let him in. He was dressed as if for an important business meeting, in a charcoal suit with a plum-colored tie. “Shall we?”
“Yes.” I swallowed a lump in my throat and followed my mentor to an unfamiliar ley line leading southeast.
We emerged in a large grassy field somewhere near Pleasanton—many miles from San Francisco, and across the bay. This was clearly public land, and deserted of humans at this time of the year, unless they had been kept away deliberately. The sun lowered toward the horizon, peeking through oak trees at the edge of the clearing. The grass was still yellow from last summer; California was in drought, as usual.
Jeremy stood a few yards from us in the center of the field, looking down at a jumble of equipment and supplies at his feet. I took a step forward, curious despite my nerves, but Gregorio put a cautioning hand on my arm. Only then did I realize what I was seeing: Flavius Winterheart, strapped into an elaborate contraption. It was like a twisted version of the chair he’d been held in for the tribunal. Here, his arms and legs were all bound in painful-looking, awkward angles, and the line of power around his neck looked as though it were made of barbed wire.
Though he was clearly conscious, he lay limp, unstruggling.
Gregorio took his hand off my arm. “Jeremiah Andromedus and Calendula Isadora, the tribunal of Elders and coven mothers thanks you for the service you are about to perform. I wish you good speed and fortitude. Please let me know when it is completed.”
“Wait—you’re not staying?” I asked, turning to him.
He shook his head. “We’ve spoken before about the deleterious effects of stray magic, Calendula,” he said softly. “You can do this. I have the utmost faith in both of you.”
“Thank you, Father,” Jeremy said. I was both relieved and alarmed to hear fear in his voice as well.
Gregorio nodded at both of us before vanishing onto the ley line.
I cleared my throat and looked at Jeremy, keeping my eyes away from the silent Flavius. Somehow, it was worse that he wasn’t screaming or pleading for mercy. Just blinking up at us. Waiting to be cauterized. Broken.
Oh Blessed Mother I cannot do this.
“So,” said Jeremy, reaching out to me. “Shall we?”
I took his hand and stepped forward. “What…do I do?”
Jeremy smiled at me, tension written all over his lovely face. “First we must gather ourselves, as with any large working. We have about twenty minutes until sundown.”
“All right.” I made myself look down, to face what we were doing. Only then did I see that Jeremy had already traced a Circle on the ground around us, next to where Flavius lay.
“I thought we’d draw the pentagram together,” Jeremy said, handing me a small stick.
“No dagger or athame?” I asked.
He gave an embarrassed smile. “We…well, when this was worked out the first time, all that was at hand were natural ingredients. So that became the spell.”
“Ah.”
Jeremy took a second stick, and together we slowly walked the lines of the star, pushing our sticks into the dusty ground, tugging tall dry grass out of our way in places. His stick led on the first leg, mine the second, his the third, mine the fourth. At the fifth, without speaking, we positioned our sticks together and drew the line as one, pausing a brief moment before closing the pentagram.
As we touched the last point to the edge of the Circle, I felt the rush of magic as the working came together. It was strong, solid, true, and it calmed and strengthened me, as ever.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Jeremy watching me. “It is good,” he said.
“Yes.” We stood a moment in the demarcated space, letting it hold us. “Um…” I flicked my eyes to Flavius, who still looked as blank as my golem. “Were we supposed to bring him in?”
“No—the Circle would only protect him. He’s bound to its outer edge, while we work from inside.”
Now I saw the rest of it: the bizarre contraption wasn’t just a torture device. Flaviu
s was being held in such a way that each extremity, plus his head, touched our Circle. Maybe that was what was holding him frozen? I sort of didn’t want to know.
The sun kissed the hills on the horizon, and I felt the liminality of twilight drawing nearer. Jeremy and I looked at one another. “I’m following your lead here,” I said, though he knew that. Nervous chatter, I supposed.
“I know.” He gave me his golden smile. “Join hands, so we can meld our energies.”
I took his hands. We stood that way a long moment, as the sun sank further. The air grew just a little chillier. Flavius kept lying there, silent.
Jeremy began a chant, so low I almost did not hear it at first, just felt it through his hands. Once I caught its pattern, I followed along, harmonizing and weaving my power through his. It was indeed a dark mockery of our ward-building work—but I could not think that way, I had to pour everything I had into this. It did not matter that I hated it, that it frightened and sickened me to use magic to harm someone irreparably. Flavius Winterheart had committed a terrible crime, against my dearest friend; our community had together decided upon his punishment. Who was I to be so cowardly as to shunt this work off on someone else?
I redoubled my chant, feeding positive intention into it, seeking Jeremy’s power. He met me halfway and more, sending his power wrapping around mine in return. In this way, back and forth, we built a huge mass of potency, swirling around us, enveloping and holding us.
When I felt it starting to peak, I began to ease off, in expectation of the next phase. But Jeremy shook his head without releasing my hands and fed yet more power in. I followed. It built, and built further. I started to tremble as my body struggled to contain even my share of it. Jeremy’s hands gripped mine, and I clung hard to his. The build was everything. All we were was power.
