Magna Magicis Opus - The Great Magical Work Who: Celeste, Fern, Gabe, Izzy, James, NPC Creature What: Ritual to Summon the Creature (Witch Hunter Plot) When: Saturday, 7pm Where: Clark County Wetlands - Duck Creek Trailhead Warnings: Violence, Gore
On the eastern edge of Las Vegas, a 130-acre nature preserve stretched across the valley. It was an unexpected refuge from the arid landscape, an area of wetlands through which the Las Vegas wash flowed, creating a fragile habitat of reeds, marshes, and meadows, all home to countless coyotes, quail, rabbits, and turtles. Near the trailhead, the main surface was a wide strip of concrete, but it was possible to venture off it onto a natural trail or a patch of dirt, hidden from the prying eyes of nearby residents, especially after sundown when the park closed. It was a perfect place for a group of practitioners to gather and attempt a complicated piece of witchcraft.
James and Celeste arrived early to make sure the group would be alone. It was in an area of dirt that they stopped. James lowered his bags and cleared a space of any flammable debris. He built a small fire. On its perimeter, he stooped and carved five symbols in the dirt with the tip of a dagger, each representing one of the elements. Then he set objects in their respective places: a rock for earth, lit incense for air, a burning candle for fire, a bowl for water. The place for spirit was left empty.
Since sundown, the temperature had been on a steady decline from its fifty-seven degree high, with the breeze making it hard for the fire to take hold until James bolstered it with magic. By midnight, the air would be near freezing. While he waited for 7 o’clock, he knelt by the fire to warm up his hands, blowing into the cavern he made with his cupped palms. Then, just to distract himself from what was to come, he inventoried the items he’d brought, including a sharp knife, a small glass bottle and cloth, a heavy-barreled pen, and a book of rituals. In these quiet moments of waiting, the stress of what they were doing -- the stakes of it -- crept up on him, and he caught himself rubbing his forehead. James shook it off and got off the ground.
Izzy arrived soon afterwards, the noise of her hiking boots as she came down the trail announcing her arrival. She had a knapsack thrown over one shoulder, and a thermos dangled from a carrying strap in her other hand. To avoid suspicion she’d parked over in the little retail strip a half mile down the road from the park and walked the rest of the way.
This was the first big piece of magic she’d participated in outside of working on her house wards or her mother’s coven, and never for stakes this high. The weight of the pendent under her jacket was a comfort. How much protection it would really offer for something like this creature coming after her or others was debatable, but if nothing else it made her a little less jumpy.
“Hey.” She greeted James, taking in the fire and everything else with a glance before focusing on her friend. “Everything set?”
James nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.” He beckoned for her to come closer so he could show Izzy a glass vial of oil he brought for his portion of the ritual.
Fern hadn’t known that there was a green place so near to where she was living. There had been a sense of loss in moving to the desert, the lush forests of the east coast left behind to follow the Lady to a place where everything seemed dead and dry, but seeing it now sent a wave of calm to soothe her jumbled nerves. It made her feel some sense of peace, in spite of the uneasiness that had been churning in her gut since receiving James’ text.
She carried a weathered brown leather tote bag over her shoulder. It had perhaps been designed for folly, for carrying phones and credit cards and small yapping dogs for those who still did that sort of thing, but it had found a different purpose in Fern’s hands. That night was no different: it carried a paper sack full of clean bones and dried flowers, a box of black taper candles, a mason jar partially filled with blood, and the grimoire that had guided her through the last spell she had performed with James.
She spotted him as she approached the flickering fire, alongside a woman she didn’t recognize. The temptation to turn and leave was almost too much to bear, but Fern pressed on; this was for her own protection, even if it meant meeting with practitioners that might not see the world with the same sort of gaze as she held.
“Hello,” she called quietly, stopping just at the edge of the fire’s glow and slipping a black hair tie off of her wrist to pull her hair up into a ponytail. The last thing she needed was for it to get in her way while she was working. “I never knew this place was here.”
Fern’s voice carried to James. He made sure the dropper was well sealed in the bottle and waved at her. “Hey,” he said. “Yeah it’s off the beaten path. Izzy, this is Fern. We met in Searchlight at the auto shop.” It was the simplest explanation, one that also happened to be true, and he left it at that. “I used to go see Izzy’s mom about potions. Izzy moved out here last year.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Izzy responded, nodding to Fern at James’ introduction. “Always good to meet another practitioner.”
Fern nodded, offering a light smile. “Likewise,” she said.
Gabe had prepared down at the edge of the waters that formed the heart of the wetlands. From what James had told him of the others participating, the rituals and plans, he'd prepared in his head what would be required of him to fulfil his part. Earlier that day he'd met with members of his family at home, where he'd gone to collect the water he would use during the ritual, and consulted with his grandmother. 'To save the life of another is one of our greatest blessings, to return the power of their life to one of our own is greater still.' Gabe's eyes lowered to where his grandmother's talisman hung from the chain around his neck, the sapphire set in the handle of the delicate dagger catching the light of the setting sun and the shards of blue matching those in his own ring. He'd inhaled slowly, his eyes closing as he started to communicate with all who were answering his call. Once done he'd made his way toward the location James had set up, having watched the others arrive through the eyes of his companion. As he came near the clearing he momentarily crouched, then stood again, Bilson now in his usual position for what lay ahead.
He greeted James and Izzy, and looked toward the other woman there, figuring it had to be the one called Fern. "I'm Gabe," he said simply to the stranger.
“Fern,” she replied by way of greeting, unable to conjure another smile. New faces made her nervous; two at once, at such a precarious meeting, was making it all the more difficult. At least James was there, and Celeste was set to arrive. Familiarity would make this easier.
Gabe nodded and crossed to where the bowl was positioned on the ground. He crouched and after murmuring the old cleansing incantation he poured the contents of the canteen he'd carried beneath his jacket into the receptacle.
Celeste had taken James’s truck and parked it farther away in a less conspicuous spot after unloading the firewood and other supplies. The brunette made the trek back to the circle, her bag slung around her shoulder, Sam’s orb safe and secure inside. She even kept one hand pressed against it through the canvas to prevent any jostling and movement as she walked.
Once she had returned, Fern, Izzy, and Gabe had appeared. “Hi, everyone.” There was a certain surreal element to seeing everyone together. Celeste stood next to James and Fern, looking at the symbols that he had drawn.
James raised a hand in greeting to Gabe and set down his bag at his feet. With the fire crackling warm and high, he decided to get to it. “That’s all of us. Thanks for being here. I think it’s going to mean a lot to Sam when we put things right. You don’t know each other and joining up on a ritual like this is a lot to ask. But I can’t think of anybody else I’d rather do this with.”
He took a breath. “Alright, between the shop and the phone, I think we’re clear on what we’re here to do and everybody’s part. I do want to set a ground rule. If we lose control of this thing, if anybody takes a bad hit, we send it back wherever we called it from and regroup. We don’t need to lose anybody tonight.”
James gave it time to sink in, for him as much as the rest of them. They were gathered to summon a monster, one that had killed at least four witches and injured another, and had done so repeatedly in the past. It would keep doing it unless they put their lives on the line to stop it.
When enough time had passed, he took a step back. “Izzy’s up first.”
“Right.” Fern was the only one Izzy hadn’t met before tonight, so aside from a smile and nod toward the others, Izzy didn’t waste time. She put both knapsack and thermos on the ground, careful not to disturb any of the markings James had already made. Opening the knapsack, she took out several small felt bags. Each had long strings tied around the throat so they could be worn. “I thought we could all use some help considering what we’re going up against.” She’d talked to James about it earlier and gathered up what was needed between Curiosities and her own stash of supplies. “What’s in these along with the potion in the thermos will help protect against this thing’s negative energy and boost our own.”
Izzy went around their little group, murmuring a prayer to the goddess as she placed a bag around the neck of each person. Whether it really helped or not in situations like this she didn’t know, but it helped keep her focused and she figured it couldn’t hurt anything either. Once she’d finished distributing the bags she took up the thermos and unscrewed it and poured the contents into paper cups from the knapsack. “This will still be a little warm but shouldn’t scald anyone either. It tastes better warm than cold, trust me on this.”
Once everyone else had taken a cupful she took the thermos and downed the rest of it, managing not to gag.
Fern had flinched when Izzy had placed the bag around her neck. She knew James and Celeste well enough to be comfortable in their company, but the unknown faces standing beside the fire left her wary. She knew there was power there; she could feel it, crackling in the air around them. But it was unknown. Untested. Pieces of a puzzle that could fit together well enough, but what picture would it form in the end? She wasn’t sure.
She swallowed the liquid in the paper cup as quickly as she could, desperately trying not to grimace and failing miserably. Fern had enough experience with potions to know that few were meant to linger on the palate, so the taste wasn’t surprising, particularly given Izzy’s warning.
She glanced towards Celeste and gave a tentative smile. “Still better than some of the coffee around here,” she joked lamely.
Gabe accepted the bag, ducking his head to Izzy as she placed the string around his neck. “No medals for karaoke tonight, huh?” he joked, then took the small paper cup and downed it. His face scrunched up as he shook his head and blinked. “Damn, not as bad as some of Ana’s but gotta say, I’ll get the next round, huh?”
James tossed it back like a foul-tasting shot. It burned its way past his esophagus and into his stomach where it settled in a strange pool. “Remind me not to ask you for drink recommendations,” he mumbled to Izzy, crumbling the paper cup. The cloth talisman dangling over his jacket had a potent fragrance like bugbane, something with a powerful enough scent to scare off insects. That was good. Ingredients that attacked the nose and mouth usually packed a magical punch.
“You’re welcome.” Izzy rolled her eyes “I’ll try to remember your sensitive taste buds the next time around.” Unfortunately not all potions allowed for additives to help with the taste, it was something she planned to experiment with as time and money permitted. “I figured this time around you’d want the boost more than a smooth aftertaste.”
James laughed to himself. He set the cup on the ground and went into his bag.
“According to the grimoires of witches that came before us, this creature’s been summoned here at least two other times in recorded history. It took covens to banish it before, so a coven’s what we’ll be tonight. But we're not going to give it a chance to come back.” James stood with the book in hand, open to a fresh, loose page of parchment. “Write your name on the paper. Then prick your finger and seal it in blood. When you’re finished, tear the strip away.”
He went to each of the magic users in turn, the book held open. A pen, a silver-handled knife, and a small cloth for cleaning the blade, which had been consecrated before they began, all rested in the crease. James made a slow trip around the group, watching as each took their turn. When they were finished, he handed them another page with a ritual chant written in his handwriting. He committed his name to paper last. The sharp point of the knife plunged into the tip of his left index finger. James directed the droplet to land at the center of his name.
James set the book and tools on his bag. “Make a ring around the fire. We’ll speak the words in unison. At the end, put your name in the flames. That’ll seal your bond.”
James stepped up to the edge of the smoldering wood pile. When he was joined by the others, he began to speak.
“Ancient ones above and below Grant us bound by coven law By blood and fire and name We surrender our will as one We give over our power And share our strength As long as the coven endures.”
He rolled the paper into a loose coil and tossed it into the pile. As the paper burned away, the wound on his index finger changed into a glyph of their new coven, a symbol that stood for magical strength and protection.
Celeste smiled at Fern. Despite what James had told her, or maybe partly because of it, she had been worried about the young woman. She also knew it must have been difficult for her to join a coven with strangers. These thoughts were temporarily washed away by the taste of the liquid.
After reciting the words along with the others, she watched the paper blacken and crumble. Once again, one hand rested protectively over the concealed orb. The brunette had been picturing Sam in his hospital bed, opening his eyes and slowly regaining strength as energy poured into the magical object. The mental imagery gave her a surge of confidence.
It had taken some intense discussion with his family for Gabe to be able to agree to join the coven for this. His grandmother’s dagger lay against his chest as her concession and final agreement. The Santorini family had participated with others outside their familial bloodline through the centuries but there had not always been outcomes suited to the family’s ways. Gabe had not been able to offer assurances on all parties as he didn’t know them at all with regard to their leanings, and practices, but the purpose of this single gathering had been enough to give comfort to his elders, his grandmother giving her blessing only after she’d ensured the dagger would go with him.
And it was with this dagger that he now drew the circle around them. The glint of the flames off the golden blade flashed up into the night sky, the power of the metal ensuring the strength of his communication with those who had answered his call, and were now within his reach. As the circle closed the words rose into the night.
“We are a circle Within a circle No beginning And never-ending Around and throughout What we invite, come in What we forbid, keep out.”
As they forged their bond and a sacred circle enclosed them, James felt a buzz of unfamiliar magic. It was Izzy’s and Gabe’s, intertwining with his, along with the signatures he recognized as belonging to Fern and Celeste. But there was a difference between doing a ritual with another practitioner and becoming one in a magical sense. The rites were force multipliers. They made them more powerful as a unit, but vulnerable to one another.
James had grown up surrounded by the craft, but this kind of connectivity was part of his distant past. He closed his eyes to get his bearings and breathed deep. It took a moment to hone back in. All that mattered was getting it done safely. He stood with feet shoulder-width apart, his palms open. In magic, there wasn’t any room for doubt. He needed the certainty of his ability, his purity of intent. Magic was charged energy. Any tools they used were vested with singular purpose; the practitioner had to be the same way.
By virtue of their spacing around the bonfire, each stood near an element: Izzy at the rock, Celeste at the incense, Fern at the candle, Gabe at the bowl of water, and James at the symbol for spirit. The longer they stood in the circle, the more their capacity for sorcery grew. The objects at each symbol on the ground vibrated or burned more intensely.
Izzy’s eyes were closed as she concentrated, feeling the power of their combined energies swirling around them. Her grandmother’s lessons in spellwork and experiences in the coven back home were at the front of her mind, and she heeded the wisdom there. Magic like this was tricky, the more power that was pumped into a rite the more that power needed shepherding. Her attention was squarely on the magical energy building in the circle and the purpose behind it. Feeling the energy peak, she opened her eyes expectantly for the next step in the process to begin.
All eyes turned to Fern.
Fern took a deep breath. "Guess I'm up," she muttered.
The bones in her bag rattled as she set it on the ground. She began to lift them out, one by one, to form a tighter circle on the ground. They were clean but not bleached, many yellowed with age but free from any debris or tissue. Bones like these could only be used once; any spell or ritual that called for innocent bones would leech away all of their power and mar them with the pride of intention.
Even an untrained eye would recognize that some of the bones were human. It would be just as easy to note that they were small. Fern wouldn't volunteer where they had come from, but only did as she needed. Once the circle was formed, she began to place the candles at equal distance among the bones, making sure that they were fully encapsulated within the bone circle, wishbones and hyoids and ribs and tarsals keeping the circle unbroken but allowing the candles to be placed inside the ring of bones. There was one candle for each person present.
"Everyone needs to stand near a candle," she called over her shoulder, knowing the others would understand, and took the dried flowers from her bag in a large handful.
The dried blooms were all mixed together, some grown overnight in a pot in Fern's backyard, drawn out of the gathered earth by force of will, and others had been gleaned from local florists. She had dried them quickly in the oven throughout the day, the fragrance filling her home along with the waves of heat from the partially open oven door.
Starry sky petunias, deep red with a yellow splash on each of the five petals that it formed the shape of a start on the bloom, and little white speckled dots on the red of the petals. Beautiful flowers to be sure, but indicative of anger, red and hot and fiery.
Orange lilies, bright petals that dropped dark pollen when fresh and crumbled at the touch when dry. The carried the strongest scent, thick and cloying even when shriveled near to dust. They were the flowers of pride, a boost of ego to be gifted to all present and call forth the creature with the tantalizing prospect of a coven flying high on arrogance.
Finally, the viburnum, soft and delicate little white petals that grew in bunches but had been cut away into individual flowers and intermingled with the others. Their scent was light and clean and subtle, easy to miss and quickly overpowered by the lilies. Viburnum was for binding, anchoring the creature to this place, bending it to their will.
Fern whispered as she knelt down on one knee to spread the flowers into a neat little scatter at the center of her circle of bones. These flowers had grown to life only to be plucked away and desiccated, their intrinsic power borrowed for an unnatural rite. She thanked them for it, for allowing their energy to be taken and used and completely spent. Fern's own intent had grown some of these flowers; they carried in their leaves and stems a little piece of her. As Fern whispered, the candle directly behind her sparked a flame.
One by one, each candle standing before the members of the newly minted coven began to light, small flames holding steadily even as the wind began to blow around them, the intent of each person gathered guiding the flames.
Her hands shook only a little when she retrieved the mason jar from her bag, the blood inside a dark stain against the glass. She'd had to draw it the night before to ensure it would remain intact long enough for the ritual while still preserving her strength. The vein inside her left forearm was always a trustworthy source; Fern had learned how to draw out her own blood when she was six years old, and though she rarely did it now, she never forgot how.
The last item to be taken out was her grimoire, and she pulled the strap of the bag back up over her shoulder so she wouldn't leave it behind when she finished. One hand held the book open while the other began to pour her blood out over the dried petals, pressing her hand down into the mess once she was finished.
"We call to the unknown from this sacred space. We call to the creature that we seek. We bring you tribute of blood and bone, And bid you abandon your errand To come to our circle."
A brilliant flash fractured the air.
It scorched the eyes, the way that staring into the sun could do. In the seconds it took them to blink and gather themselves, a terrible creature rose on its muscular legs inside the ring of bones. It was greenish-black and shining. Wet. It rocked on its clawed feet like an animal considering a strike, only waiting long enough to comprehend where it was and how it had come to be in this place. At the end of its arms, claws clicked and snapped. Half a dozen tentacles fanned out from the rugged terrain of its spine, testing the air and finding it ripe with sorcery. The bottom of its face opened onto ridges of teeth and a long, whipping tongue that dripped with saliva. It became clear what the final experiences of its victims might have been like.
The creature had not yet noticed the pale-haired witch kneeling in the dirt.
Once completed, she slammed her palm down onto the symbol, forcing into it as much power as she could muster, feeling it draw from those who surrounded her and fill her with a sense of lightness she had not known in many years.
“Here I inscribe our witch's seal, and through our will alone we bind you here!” she called out.
A bright red light flashed from between her hand and the ground and Fern jerked back, the spell set and the creature bound. She clutched her grimoire under her arm and stumbled backwards and out of the bone circle where the creature was now bound, stepping quickly to join the others even as blood heated from the flash dripped from her palm.
It roared within its barrier of bones, making them rattle on the dirt. It strained and flagellated, the whole of its rage permeating the air with an antagonistic charge that grated against their protective magics. When it could not immediately break physically free, it began to scream into their minds, not with sound but pictures. It would do anything to shake them loose.
Gabe staggered and groaned, his hands clutching the sides of his head and eyes squeezed shut as the trapped creature’s assault on their minds hit him. It was savage and intense and hit him full force as he had already opened his channels of communication to all those who had answered his call, gathered out of sight but within reach of his connection. He felt his knees bend and hit the ground as the weight on his shoulders increased, as if he was carrying the burden of the beast on his back. His fingers clawed at his ears. For seconds that stretched into eternity he crouched beneath the onslaught, his breaths shallow and ragged, a darkness threatening, as if black clouds were closing in on him. The gold dagger dangled from the chain around his neck, spinning slowly, the light of the fire glinting and reflecting from the shiny blade, the blue of the sapphire seeming to be glowing from a light within.
'We are here, Always here, Strength is yours To take and wend. Power it must be returned to source, You can do it with our force.'
It was as if drains had been unplugged, whirlpools created all around him, swirling beneath, above, beside, behind him. Gabe was being torn one way then another, the creature trying to tear him apart. His breathing was strained, his lungs demanding he breathe. His right hand scrabbled for the dagger, his signet ring’s sapphire turned inward making contact with the stone in the hilt of the dagger.
He held no fear of drowning, he was at home in this dimension, probably more so. Instead of fighting he slowly willed himself to swim, not fighting the currents swirling around him, but instead turning the energy to his own purpose. Steady, purposeful, focused strokes, and his other hand lowered. As he slowly stood seven shadows formed in his mind, at first indiscernible, but slowly evolving as he focused on them, the first four coming into focus being the others there with him, their new coven. The Three that were outside that circle remained indiscernible but he soon recognised the energy that flowed from them. His eyes slowly opened and focused and the creature’s mouth gaped at him, a snarling, howling wave screeching and crashing against his mind, causing him to stagger backwards. But instead of buckling he gathered himself and began repurposing that energy.
A sudden shock of images flooded Fern's head, powerful enough that it nearly brought her to her knees. In her mind's eye she saw not the creature trapped there among the bones but the corpse of her adopted mother crawling forward on hands and knees. She wore the same silk robe that she had died in, splattered with blood and brain matter, a gaping hole where her nose and eyes should be. Her mouth dropped open, blackened bile and broken teeth dripping out as she howled and reached for Fern, demanding retribution for what had been done to her.
Fern steeled herself and stared, willing the image away to no avail. She squeezed her eyes shut, counting backwards from five and whispering the spell of the seal over and over, words fast and jumbled, pushing every last ounce of will that she could outward and into the circle.
When she opened her eyes again, the image had changed. It wasn't Laura O'Grady crawling towards her but the Lady standing there, wounded and angry.
Why have you done this to me? She spoke into Fern's mind, voice uncharacteristically weak, and Fern's black candle flickered. Have I not cared for you? Have I not protected you?
Eyes gone wide with shock, Fern took a step forward before forcing herself to stand still. It wasn't real; it couldn't be real. There wasn't power enough in all the world to subjugate the Lady like this. The creature was toying with her. She squeezed her eyes shut again and when she opened them, she saw only claws and teeth.
“Hold it!” James yelled.
He pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. It didn’t help. Nothing would. The interference coming from the creature was like a migraine on steroids. It scrambled his thoughts, the way the nerves signaled in his brain. James could see the fire and the other witches. He could hear them reacting, too. But layered on top of it, the creature inundated James with rapid-fire images: the landscape of a dark, bleak, necrotic world; the faces of other witches as it fastened its tentacles to them; the way animal flesh looked as it was bitten and pulled off the bone. His father’s face turning a desperate shade of purple, and how his magic had thrown Aaron across the room in an uncharacteristic burst of self-preservation.
Sensing an opportunity to overwhelm them, the creature worked itself into a frenzy in its trap.
James locked his attention on the creature and repeated Fern’s mantra. “Through our will alone, we bind you here,” he called out, hoping the others could hear him. Then a second time, louder. “Through our will alone, we bind you here! We’ve got you, Gabe.”
With trembling fingers, Celeste carefully removed the orb from her canvas bag. The object was the size of a small orange, but it was translucent, milky white and heavy. The familiarity and symbolism of it helped bolster the brunette’s confidence and determination. It had been in Sam’s possession for decades. When held, it would hum a particular note and shine with luminous streaks and swirls, the amount and color of the light a reflection of the spiritual power and alignment of the practitioner who held it. It was one of the old man’s most treasured tools, and had been a focal point of her first meeting with James’s father. Now, Celeste hoped they could fill it with Sam’s own power. She quietly but resolutely intoned a spell of protection for the magical object.
“Within and without The space around No harm shall befall you Protection surrounds.”
She placed it on a nest of soft fabric near James’s feet, in the open space at the top of the pentacle formed by the five elements, then returned to her place.
Gabe’s eyes were now focused on the glass sphere, the orb into which he would direct the power. His vision was expanded, able to see from above, the five points each protected by one of them, the creature inside fighting to gain control back, but trapped by the circle laid, and the strength of each of them combining to create a force greater than simply the five multiplied. Into that he started to feed the rest of the energies he was gathering, energy freely given by all who answered his earlier call. It would help strengthen the orb to receive the rest.
Above their heads was a steadily increasing collection of native fauna, all having responded, all willingly giving their support through the channels they each provided. Outside the perimeter of light thrown by the fire, eyes could be seen, reflecting in the flickering of the flames, steady and focused on the circle and all those who stood protecting its perimeter.
As he lowered his eyes to it, the bowl in front of Gabe vibrated, the surface of the water broken by ripples that radiated out from the centre as if a pebble had been dropped there. He crouched again, eyes now focused on the water, lips moving as he spoke softly, the ancient language of his ancestors breathed across the bowl as his hand holding the dagger lifted the hilt, and lowered the point to pierce the centre of the circle. As he did this, his eyes rose to the skies above, and what at first appeared to be a ring of smoke or cloud started to form there, directly over the creature. It lashed out, claws trying to dig at the circle of bones restricting it, and Gabe felt the power of the others strengthen to repel it, to keep it contained as he worked to bring together all required for the next stage - regaining the powers the creature had stolen.
His grip tightened on the dagger, the two sapphires now glowing so brightly it was difficult to see where flesh finished and metal began. He raised his left hand, holding it flat over the top of his right, fingers and palm cupping, slowly creating a dome. Overhead the ‘cloud ring’ followed suit, the centre filled, then doming upwards as the edges of the circle descended, circling the creature’s head, but impervious to its attempts to slash and destroy it. Slowly Gabe lifted his hand, again his lips moving as the spell intensified, the words having been penned by generations of family, refined by his grandmother, and now recited by the heir to the Mariner’s Ring.
”I invoke the powers of the Coven Worlds apart, Come together To seek what was stolen For greed and avarice By this one and all who called it
Worlds together We combine That most precious which was stolen Shall again be restored to its rightful home
By the will of the gathered We revoke the powers And reverse the pathways Energies arise.”
What looked like small strings started to appear, rising up from the sticky surface of the creature. Fine threads, silken in appearance, slowly found one another as they rose, entwining as Gabe’s words continued. They were drawn up into the dome that hovered overhead, curling inside the sapphire blue shape, nestling inside it.
The creature’s focus shifted from outside the circle to what was happening inside, and it started screeching audibly this time, the sound jagged and harsh, echoing around the clearing now, a physical sound rather than the diminishing mental assault. Claws slashed at the dome, making no difference to the shape, the strings of energy twisting and lifting without interruption regardless of the beast’s anger. As the assault on those gathered ceased, Gabe felt the rush of energy now it wasn’t required to fight to maintain protection against that.
His left hand lifted slowly, fingers recommencing their movement, tips curling in to come together and close, the dome following suit. The final trails of strings were safely drawn in as the sphere came to be sealed, and Gabe stood. His left hand rotated, the right holding the dagger was now pointing at the glass sphere at James’ feet. As his left hand moved and started tracing down the length of his outstretched arm, the sphere started to shrink, intensifying, and traveling toward the glass orb. His eyes reflected the blue of the sapphires as the sphere touched the surface of the glass, and with only the slightest moment of pause the two combined.
James was caught off-guard by the silence in his head. For one small, confused moment, he thought he’d lost his hearing. But then the creature howled. It was weaker, just a dangerous animal crouching at less imposing height, unable to continue with the psychic assault. Still, venomous tentacles whipped the air. Claws lashed out at nothing. Out of its toothy mouth, a solitary line of thick saliva dangled until it reached the dirt.
James looked from Gabe’s outstretched arm to the ground.
The orb sat in its pool of fabric. It now shone with a pearly light, one that shifted from pure white to yellow to the palest pink. The orb contained the power and life force of mages, those that the creature had stolen and repurposed for itself. Most importantly, it held Sam's. James got on his knee on the hard ground and took a dagger out of his bag. The sheath was ornate, silver, and old. The blade was etched with the Hutchins family motto -- ‘Courage a la mort’ -- that dated back centuries. It had been a gift when he turned eighteen. James opened the glass bottle and wet a soft cloth with a few drops of liquid. It was an oil of knotweed, wormwood, and Guinea pepper. He ran the damp cloth down the length of the blade, then balled it up and got to his feet.
“There has been an injustice,” he called out, approaching the creature in its prison. James could smell the dried flowers Fern had placed under its feet. “We summon the elements. Earth, Air, Fire, Water. We summon the Spirits of those you have harmed.”
While the spellcaster walked around the creature, a host of spectral beings appeared at his back. They moved behind him in a smoky, serpentine line. They were dead witches, each angry, each awaiting a turn to strike. James walked until they surrounded the creature with another circle that had no beginning, no end. The creature waited on its haunches. Snarling. Unsure of where to look.
James raised his voice again. ”You will know their fear and pain. A hundredfold is the cost.” When he raised the dagger, he was thinking of Sam in a limp heap in his living room, a white witch forced to defend himself alone and wait to die. He was thinking of Shannon Foust, a newly minted Wiccan who fell in love with magic and died for it. James white-knuckled the hilt and stabbed the side of the creature. The tip slipped between two widely-spaced ribs and cut into its organs. He let go before any of the slime and blood spewing out of the wound could touch his hand. As soon as he was out of the way, the ghostly outline of witches transformed into solid shapes mimicking the creature. They lashed out in a swarm of snapping jaws, claws, and tentacles. They bit, stung, and tore, impervious to anything the creature did to defend itself, or its furious shrieks.
An assortment of body parts hit the ground with splashes and thumps. The mound grew as the animal within it shrank. When the mass of its unsupported torso hit the ground and its head rolled away, the phantoms disappeared. The handle of the dagger protruded from the pile.
“So mote it be,” James finished. He went to the remains, tugged his weapon out of the flesh, and set it on the ground.
A gasp came from Izzy as she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in before sucking in a new one. It was done. They’d killed the thing, defeated it. She’d been part of rites before, but this had been unlike anything she’d experienced. It was something she’d have to write down this evening while it was still fresh, but that would have to wait until later.
Now came time to try and use the energy they’d ripped from it for a higher purpose.
As the echoes of the creature’s demise died away the sounds of wings overhead could be heard. Gabe looked up, still catching his breath, and a few seconds later nodded before lowering his gaze to the circle again. “The remains will be disposed of,” he told the others, indicating the pile of fleshy pieces in the centre of the circle.
Fern watched the display, but said nothing, her pale face remaining as blank and passive as she could manage. She knew that some lived by the threefold rule, believing whatever they did would come back to haunt them in even greater measure, but Fern had long dismissed that notion as fearful whispering of those who couldn’t handle the power they had been gifted. This, however… this gave her a moment of pause.
Was it truly at their calling that the spectral witches appeared to take their revenge? Or was it something more, some balancing force in the universe that had really called them forth? She thought of what the creature had made her see, and she wondered.
James took his place at the apex of the pentagram, near Celeste. He watched her come closer. “You can do anything,” he said in a low voice, reminding her of how she felt that night outside Coyote Springs.
“You can do it Celeste,” Izzy encouraged, silently adding her own prayers to the Lord and Lady to the mix in hope that if nothing else it would add to the positive vibes. “Have faith.”
Gently, Celeste picked up the orb and cupped it in her palms. She took a deep, steadying breath and closed her eyes. She pictured Sam in his hospital bed, a vivid picture from having spent so much time there. She knew the sights and sounds of it by heart, including the steady respiration of his chest and the rhythmic beeps of machinery connected to him. Celeste imagined the energy captured within that orb traveling to him and flowing into his body until Sam was strong again. She placed her fingertip on the top of the sphere. It was the fingertip that had been imprinted at the start of the ritual with a glyph, a symbol of physical and magical strength. Celeste began to trace a spiral on the surface of the orb to signify rebirth.
As her finger moved, she opened her eyes and spoke.
”By earth and air By fire and water So shall you hear my call Powers of birth and rebirth Send this healing white light Bend it to our will tonight Sickness end Health return Spirit mend Magic return”
The light within the orb flashed bright and then dissipated, shrinking into a smaller and smaller kernel as it left the glass sphere and went on its way to Sam.
When the light in Celeste’s hands died down, James looked at her, the beginning of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was picturing his father waking up, wishing he could be there. His nerves, which had settled when they started focusing on the ritual, started jangling again. He had to school himself not to grab his cell phone and make a frantic call to the hospital. Instead, he looked at the gathered practitioners.
“I think that worked.” James bent over and put his hands on his knees, just breathing, his relief palpable.
“Thank the Lord and Lady.” Izzy didn’t bother hiding her own relief. Sam shouldn’t have to leave this life so soon, both for his own sake and for James’s. Now he’d have the time he was supposed to before the beast stole it.
James straightened up. He looked around the coven they’d made, across the fire that separated them. “We all made good on our word tonight, for Sam and all the other witches this thing has hurt,” James said, pointing at the pile of remains. “I’m grateful. It’s gone and we’re free to go our separate ways. If you want to leave this coven, hold your marked hand over the fire and say the rest of the words. But if you want to stay, I’m with you.” James remained in his place by the mark for spirit
The full chant was at the bottom of the parchment paper he’d given them. The second part read: Ancient ones below and above, Grant us break the ties that bind, By fire the sacred seal be broken, I reclaim my name as mine alone. I take my strength back into myself, And surrender the power given me. I choose the solitary path. If it was spoken aloud, the glyph would burn off the witch’s finger. It would hurt, but it wouldn’t scar.
Celeste felt drained yet strangely wired at the same time. It was a toss-up whether she’d sink into sleep the moment her head met her pillow later, or stay up all night cycling through her thoughts. “I don’t want to leave the coven,” she spoke up. “If we’re all stronger together, why not stay?” She looked over at James. “Have each other’s backs.”
Running her thumb over the glyph imprinted on her fingertip, Fern bit her lip. She’d been alone for so long; she had thought that she liked it that way. But now?
“There’s power in numbers,” she mumbled, then glanced at the faces of those gathered. Izzy and Gabe were unknowns, even after what they had just been through together, but Celeste and James, she knew. The Lady had sent her to James -- had known that he held great power that could serve them both. And Celeste was her friend. She never had many of those. It surprised Fern to realize that she trusted them both.
She smiled, just a little. “Safety, too,” Fern added, nodding. “I’ll stay.”
The brunette gave Fern an encouraging smile. Maybe it was naïve, but part of Celeste hoped that by accepting the other witch into the fold, with caution of course, it might somehow lessen the hold that Elfleda had on her. “Good,” she told her softly. “I’m glad.”
“So am I,” James said.
“It’ll be good to be part of a group,” Izzy agreed, looking around at the other members of the coven. Fern was the only unknown quantity to her, having already met James, Celeste, and Gabe prior to this. Granted the only one she’d say she knew well was James, but she was willing to take that chance. For now anyway. “I’ll stay.”
Gabe had remained silent as they all spoke, still unsure of whether or not to remain bound to the others. There were shadows, intents he could not discern, and to remain bound could mean being drawn upon at any time. It was far from his first time working with others, having done it all his life. Even during the years in the Caribbean he had worked with others there, helping out when needed. But each one of those individuals he’d had the opportunity to get to know first. Here he knew none, had had only brief social involvement with two, nothing with the other two. Being on call exposed his family, and he would protect them above all others.
He was about to withdraw when his eyes caught movement. The Three who’d been with him earlier were visible to him again, his sister, mother and grandmother, all now standing outside the ring of firelight. He frowned, then recognised a small nod from his grandmother before all three disappeared.
’That was a yes, you can stay.
‘Thanks, I got that.’
‘Just making sure, you’re pretty tired.’
Gabe only half rolled his eyes, too tired to argue, as he slowly nodded. “I’ll stay,” he responded, glancing down at the glyph now scarring his finger. “Hope I don’t have to explain this to Immigration at any time,” he added tiredly as a joke, ignoring the groan he heard in his head.
“I’ve seen how you travel. I think you’re safe.” James used the cloth to wipe the blade of his dagger clean and then retraced the shape of the sacred circle, going counter clockwise this time.
”Invoked elements and spirits, We give thanks for your presence. Return now from where you came. May our circle be open, yet forever unbroken.”
When he finished speaking, James heard a muffled buzz. It repeated a second later and he realized it was his phone. He crouched to dig it out of a zippered pocket and saw the number; it had a Las Vegas area code and the screen notification read ‘maybe: Sunrise Hospital.’ He moved a few footsteps away to take the call, sounding nervous even to himself. He exchanged a few quick words with a nurse and said, “I’ll be there soon.”
He went back to Celeste’s side, wrapped her in a hug, and gave her a kiss behind her ear. Then he gave everyone the good news. “Sam’s awake.”