Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Revelations

by Lydia Sherrer

  Reading between the lines, Lily got the impression wizards stuck to their own spells and rarely dealt with other magical beings out of a historical perception of their own superiority. She thought this was quite silly, but then she’d witnessed enough racism growing up in Alabama to understand what historical perception could do to a group of people.

  Mulling over the cultural repercussions of elitism, she finally hit pay dirt when she found a reference to a title she’d seen in her eduba before, but had never read. It dealt with crafting, the field of spell casting that involved making enchanted objects. Calling forth the book to her eduba’s pages, she started skimming “Ergonomics of Advanced Thaumaturgy.” According to the chapter on constructs, most familiars were nothing more than loyal pets wearing enchanted collars. In rare cases, however, a skilled wizard could create their own familiar by crafting a mechanical body and enchanting it with abilities. These construct familiars were used for everything from manual labor to acting as mobile wards, being messengers, protectors, spies, and more.

  Lily closed the tome and laid it aside, scratching Sir Kipling thoughtfully behind the ears as she processed the information. She came to the conclusion that, though fascinating, it didn’t help much. Her cat was neither a mechanical creation nor did he wear a fancy collar. She’d not called forth any spirit to bargain with, nor was her cat the physical manifestation of some mysterious being. It might have been a spell she’d inadvertently activated, but that didn’t fit Sir Kipling’s description of events. He’d said something was there, a force or entity, that had communicated with him. She only wished he could tell told her more.

  “Kip,” she said, breaking the silence, “why didn’t you ask its name? I mean, if something had given me strange powers and told me danger was coming, I’d have asked for a bit more detail before accepting what it said.”

  Sir Kipling yawned and turned slightly, curling in her lap so that his tummy was available for pettings and he could examine her with half-lidded eyes.

  “I accepted it because that was all there was to be done,” he said. “Humans like to ask all sorts of questions that get them nowhere and accomplish nothing. Cats simply accept things for the way they are. Now stop talking and pet me.”

  She rolled her eyes but complied, burying her hand in his soft fur. She considered the possibility he was possessed or gifted. But what sort of entity had the power to grant understanding not just to Sir Kipling, but also to her? Such a thing was beyond any creature, being, or force she’d ever read about. Of course, there were the ancient Sumerian gods from myth. But those were just creative explanations of the Source and its workings that were beyond human understanding. At least that’s the line more modern wizard texts took. More modern texts explained the Source in scientific terms as a well of boundless energy in some other plane or dimension. People with certain genes had the ability to sense and utilize that energy to do things mundane science hadn’t yet discovered.

  While plausible, that explanation didn’t sit right in her mind. When connected to the Source, she felt part of something bigger than herself, bigger than the whole world. And what about Enkinim? If the Source were simply energy, why couldn’t it be controlled by any word or language you felt like using? It didn’t make sense apart from the idea that magic was created to be used in a certain way and was given to humankind by someone or something greater than themselves.

  This idea made Lily more inclined to consider the existence of a god or greater entity. It made the most sense in Sir Kipling’s case. Yet, if it were true, she wondered what the entity’s motivations were. It seemed benevolent, but they might just be pawns in some cosmic game, for all she knew.

  All that reading and thinking made her eyes sting and her head hurt, but it wasn’t until after midnight that she finally cleaned up the piles of books and crawled into bed. The last thing she remembered before passing out was the sight of Sir Kipling, sitting erect and watchful at the end of her bed, eyes glinting in the reflected light of the street lamps outside.

  * * *

  She let herself sleep in Saturday morning. Once up, she spent a few hours cleaning her apartment before getting ready to join Madam Barrington for tea. Leaving the house was not an easy task, however, because Sir Kipling wanted to come with her.

  “No. Absolutely not.” Lily stood firm before the front door, hands on hips.

  Sir Kipling’s tail twitched back and forth, the only sign of his agitation. “Why not? I can take care of myself.”

  “So you think. But that’s not what I’m worried about. I need time to…explain to Madam Barrington what’s going on. It’s going to be enough of a shock without you there prancing around and showing off.”

  “I can be discreet,” he pouted.

  “Can and will are two different things. Now please, please stay in the house.”

  He glowered but then sniffed a grudging acknowledgment before stalking off, tail held high.

  “Drama queen,” Lily muttered, and left the house. She’d carefully packed the fragment of tablet in a warded, metal carrying case the size of a small shoebox. The time had come to show it to Madam Barrington.

  With so much on her mind as she pulled up to Madam Barrington’s house she barely spared a glance at its grand three-story facade. Heat waves shimmered off the front as it bore the full brunt of the July sun. The rest was shaded by a few large maples and oaks crowded into her small yard. Lily hurried up the front steps to escape into the house’s dim, cool interior. She hesitated at the door, apprehensive about her teacher’s reaction to the news she brought. Yet, there was nothing to do but push onward, so she rang the doorbell.

  Madam Barrington let her in and they proceeded to the kitchen where Lily helped finish the tea preparation. The sight of the familiar room filled with the fragrance of baking calmed her. Her mentor had made savory rosemary and ham scones, delicate benedictine sandwiches, and a variety of sweet treats. She’d picked out two different teas: the obligatory Earl Grey along with a Peach Melba black tea.

  Armed with trays of steaming tea pots and culinary delights, they settled into the Madam’s afternoon parlor—the sun room was a bit too warm—and enjoyed the simple delight of each other’s company. They spent a while catching up; Lily found plenty to say about her progress on the ward bracelet and her work in the archives, putting off the inevitable conversation she’d actually come for.

  Finally, it could be avoided no longer. Lily set down her cup and picked up the warded case she’d left by her chair’s foot. Madam Barrington gave no hint of surprise, as if she’d known something was going on.

  “I found this tucked away in one of the Basement’s artifact drawers,” Lily began, opening the case and presenting it to her mentor. Madam Barrington took it and examined the fragment closely, expression suddenly closed and unreadable.

  “I wanted to translate the script and the Basement didn’t have any natural light, so I took it home…” she faltered, reluctant to mention Sir Kipling, then decided to skip that part for now. “I’ve made some progress, but as you can see there’s little to go on, and I don’t know where the rest of the tablet is…might you know what it is or where it came from?” she finished hesitantly.

  The older woman stared at the fragment for several long moments, eyes distant and thoughtful. After a while, Lily made a polite noise which seemed to pull her from her reverie. “I am surprised you stumbled upon it,” her mentor said. “It was given to me many years ago to keep safe until it was needed, and that is all which ought to be said about it.” She closed the case decisively and handed it back to Lily. “Put this back where you found it and never touch it again.”

  Lily’s insides clenched with guilt even as her curious side rankled at being so casually dismissed. She was very glad she hadn’t let Sir Kipling accompany her. She could easily keep silent on the matter, yet should she?

  “But what would it be needed for?” she ventured, probing for more information. “How will we know when ‘the time’ comes?”


  “That,” Madam Barrington said with a tone of finality, “is a burden given to me that I alone must bear. Do not concern yourself with it.”

  Well, Lily thought, so much for discussing Sir Kipling. Without the truth, she couldn’t make an informed decision on what to do. Instinct told her this fragment had a part to play in whatever was coming, and that it was meant to be used. For good or ill, she had no idea. A visceral reluctance to hide the fragment away again gripped her, but it seemed Madam Barrington was not to be reasoned with. She felt a moment of frustration at her mentor and resisted the urge to purse her lips. Remembering the phrase carved into the rafters of McCain Library, “the truth shall make you free,” she longed for the day when she knew everything and would be free of this carefully constructed web of truth and lies.

  Madam Barrington must have sensed her reluctance, because her teacher’s expression softened and she sighed. “Miss Singer, you must understand. Though you are a mature and highly skilled woman, you are still in the early stages of your journey as a wizard. You easily mastered the basics and have quite impressed me with your grasp of more advanced skills. Yet seven years is only a fragment of the lifetime one needs to truly come to terms with all the Source reveals to us. You have the disadvantage of starting late in life. I myself was tutored from the age of six until my eighteenth year when…well, in any case I continued my studies on my own and it has taken me decades to become who I am today.

  “Skill and wisdom come with time. Attempting too much too soon is often disastrous to a young wizard. You have many years in which to flourish, and what I decline to share I do only for your benefit. For everything there is a time, and all things come about in their proper season. Think no more of this fragment. Put it away, and when the time comes, all will be clear.”

  So many things raced through Lily’s mind that all she could manage was a nod as she set the case back on the floor. Though she respected Madam Barrington and would be the first to admit to her wisdom and power, in this matter she disagreed. Her whole life people had been hiding things from her and she was fed up with it. She was fully aware of her sometimes reckless curiosity, but this had become much more than just curiosity. She had a strong premonition that something big had begun and it would not wait for her to “flourish.” Putting aside the matter of the fragment, she gathered herself to discuss the other reason she’d come.

  “You may recall I met with Sebastian recently,” she began, heart sinking as Madam Barrington’s lips pursed at the mere mention of her nephew’s name. Lily forged onward. “He had some interesting information. Someone in the area has been looking to hire a witch to steal a particular item—we don’t know what—from a museum. Now, I know you said the Tablet of Eridu exhibit closes at the end of the month.” She paused in thought, “that would be next Saturday, correct?”

  Madam Barrington nodded.

  “Being in transition makes the artifact vulnerable. That’s one reason we think the tablet is the most likely target. But it’s also because they specifically need a witch, not a wizard or mundane. That implies the thief will need an awareness of magic while not being magical themselves, perhaps to foil specific wards…” Lily let the sentence dangle, knowing by the sharp look in the other woman’s eyes that she followed.

  “Obviously we can’t know for sure,” she continued. “But I believe the threat is great enough to warrant extra precautions, possibly even closing the exhibit early to transport the tablet before the thief is ready to strike.” She stopped, eyeing her mentor’s skeptical expression.

  “And you believe my nephew’s information is…accurate?” Madam Barrington asked stiffly.

  “I do. He may be flippant and reckless sometimes…well, most of the time. But what he does, he does well, and he’s good at finding things.” She had a brief vision of Grimmold, the tracker fae he’d befriended. “If he says there’s a plot afoot, I believe him.”

  Madam Barrington looked away, gazing out the parlor window at the greenery outside. Finally, she turned back. “Have I ever told you why I disowned my great grand-nephew, Miss Singer?”

  Lily recoiled at the look of pain and disapproval on her mentor’s face, only relaxing when she realized it wasn’t aimed at her, but rather whatever memory her mentor had been considering. “Well, I always assumed it was because he’s a witch. At least, that’s what he says.”

  “He is right, on the whole, but the root of the matter goes deeper. I tell you this not because I want to, but because you deserve to understand the person in whom you put your trust.”

  Wary, Lily nodded understanding.

  “After—” Madam Barrington visibly struggled to say his name,“—Sebastian’s parents died, I took him in. I was his only family, at least his only suitable family, and it had been decided long ago that I would look after the boys should anything happen to their parents. Thomas, their father, was of course a wizard. But he refused to use his gift, just as his father had before him. I sometimes wonder if they might still be alive today, had only Thomas accepted his birthright…” her voice grew distant and terribly sad, but she shook herself and returned to her story. “Frederick, the older brother, was already twenty and halfway through college at the time. He coped by burying himself in his studies. But Sebastian…” she sighed. “He was troubled. So traumatized by his parents’ death, so full of anger and loss. He refused to attend school and often ran away, involving himself in who knew what mischief. I regret I did not try harder to comfort him. I have never been a tender woman, raised as I was in the ‘stiff upper lip’ fashion common among my fellow Englishmen.

  “I finally decided to take a firmer stand and discover what my nephew was up to during his long truancies. Finding him proved difficult, and when I did I almost wished I had not. I caught him…” she stopped, as if she dreaded saying what came next. She finally spat out the words, disgust tinged with regret and shame. “I caught him in the throes of a ritual summoning, attempting to bargain with a demon to resurrect his parents.”

  Lily gasped, horrified.

  “I knew he had been dabbling in witchcraft for several years, being a mundane like his mother and not liking it one bit. But I had no idea it had progressed past a boyish fancy. I understood enough of the craft to know his symbols were accurate and potent. I arrived just in time to stop him trading half his soul for the lives of his parents. The fool knew enough to cause immense damage, but had not the sense to realize one can not live on half a soul. It would not have worked in any event. The supernatural operates within and through the realities of the universe, not contrary to them. Those who have passed beyond the veil do not return, and are only mocked by any attempt to recreate their semblance in our mortal world.”

  Realizing her grip on her teacup threatened to break the delicate china, Lily laid it down as she tried to reconcile the man she knew with the boy her mentor described. “What happened next?” she asked timidly.

  “I taught him a lesson he would never forget, and forbade him under any circumstances to so much as think about witchcraft again. I took an active role in his upbringing his last years of secondary school, and he seemed to settle down. Realizing he had almost sold his soul to an embodiment of evil bent on his eternal torment had a sobering effect. But as soon as he turned eighteen, he informed me he was leaving to becoming a witch—a good one this time—and that there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Apparently my firm hand had simply taught him to conceal rather than give up his foolish ways. I was…frightened for him, and naturally could not approve of such a thing. Perhaps I acted too harshly in my threat to disown him. Yet, he had always been his own man, and so he walked away without another word.”

  Now that sounded just like Sebastian, Lily thought. He always did his own thing, consequences be damned. Still, he’d never seemed truly foolish. She gave him unending grief about his behavior, but most of it was for show. She sensed his wisdom—well, street smarts, in any case—and he was a good witch. Most importantly, he seemed to know his limits.
Obviously he had learned much on his own in the intervening decade since he’d walked away from Madam Barrington’s blessing.

  “As I said,” her mentor finished, “I do not tell you this to harm your friendship with my nephew. He needs sensible friends. I only wish to offer fair warning of what he is capable of. Admittedly, I might have told you this when you first made his acquaintance. But I did not wish to…color your perception of him. There has been very little contact between us since he came of age, and I hope he has grown into a man worthy of trust. Yet, you can understand my reluctance to rely on his judgment.”

  After a long, thoughtful moment, Lily nodded. “I understand. But in this instance, I think it’s too risky to ignore his information. He may be reckless, but what he knows, he knows. Would you please speak to Mr. Baker about returning the tablet early? At the very least we should pay the museum another visit and add additional wards.”

  With a sigh, Madam Barrington nodded and rose, gathering up their empty teacups and plates. “I suppose it would not hurt. I will speak to him on the morrow.”

  “Thank you,” Lily said, relieved.

  They cleaned up in silence, neither having the need or desire to converse further. Lily left the house even more preoccupied than when she’d arrived. She spent the drive home lost in thought about a sixteen-year-old boy bargaining with the devil for his parents’ souls.

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