Amid reservations, I described finding the paper with the ritual spell tucked into a leather-bound notebook stuffed into the bottom my grandmother's jewelry box on the day of my fourteenth birthday. What I didn't mention was that I was sure that notebook hadn't been in there before.
"The first time I tried the spell I was so excited. I knew...just knew it was going to work. Took my breath away I wanted it so much. And then nothing happened. I was crushed." Vaeta made sympathetic noises. "It got to the point where I dreaded pulling out those ingredients because I knew I was going to fail."
"How long has it been?"
"A year. I give it a shot every year on my birthday. Just for form, you know?" Shoving the plate aside, I folded my arms into a cradle and dropped my head onto them. "It's never going to work. I don't have...I don't even know what. The skill, the delivery, or if I'm just not supposed to have magic, I guess." The words came out muffled.
The crack of a plate hitting the tabletop brought back a fleeting memory of the pre-hangover cure headache. My head up at near whiplash speed.
"How do you think young witches learn to cast?"
"From their mothers," I said tentatively. Slap me with the orphan stick. "But I've had your sisters in the house; I think I know how magic works."
Rolling her eyes, Vaeta waved a hand and everything turned into a scene from a Disney movie. The kitchen cleaned itself while I watched with jaded eyes. This kind of thing happened daily around here.
"Listen close. This is important. Magic takes many forms, even if the outcome is the same. You know Evian's element is water and mine is air. Our magics are complementary in some ways. She could communicate with the water, enchant it to fill a glass. I could do the same by asking the wind to give up the moisture it carries. Different magic, same result. Magic does not beget magic. You keep assuming you have none. Have you ever considered this from a different perspective? Witches don't get magic at a given age, magic comes through blood. Touching that power is how a young witch Awakens. Every spell takes the right ingredients. Ones that must be blended correctly and with the proper intention."
It was a head-slapping moment for me. Could I really have been working with just one small incorrect element all this time? Was I making the whole thing harder on myself without even realizing it? Seemed about right.
"If I showed you the spell would you help me figure out if I'm doing it right?"
"You need to find a witch to help you. It's not my place."
Chapter Seven
"Chocolate therapy?" Sinclair Fuller, genius confectioner, reached for one of his signature white boxes with the word Sinful scrawled across in red lettering. "A six or a nine?"
Our scale of busy or stressful days was counted by the number of handmade chocolates needed to restore both body and soul. "It was probably closer to a twelve, but six will do." He gave me eight and then applied the "friends and family" discount. Chocolate and romance make a great pair, so I sent business his way often. In return, he supplied my weekly fix.
"Tough client?"
"Fifteen texts today. Looks like I've got a return on my hands."
"How does that work? Here's my boyfriend, he's not sensitive enough to my needs, get me a new one?" Sinclair's smile softened the sarcasm.
"Funny, but no." I nipped a bit of heaven from the box and took a bite. Salted caramel truffle dipped in dark chocolate, and then rolled in a crunchy coating. Sinful indeed. I cast a questioning glance at Sinclair. "What's the crunchy stuff?"
"Crushed ice cream cone. The sugar kind."
Best thing ever.
Visiting Sinful added extra walking time to my trip home, which was one way I rationalized my chocolate indulgence. His place was three blocks in the opposite direction from home. Better yet, Sinclair stayed open late. We had the night owl thing in common. Sinful opened at noon and closed at nine.
A glitter and flash in one of the shop windows caught my eye as I passed Hanover Street. Curiosity pulled me down the block for a closer look.
Nestled into the narrow space between a dry cleaner and an insurance agency, Athena's Attic looked like it belonged--like it had been there all along. I knew better.
This is my city and I know her well; the streets, the businesses, the people. Witches may have a reputation for hovering over cauldrons in the dark of the forest, but I guess I sort of count as a witch, and I draw my energy from the bustling crowds.
It had been a week--maybe two--since I passed this way and in that location, there had been...I drew a blank and tried again. My mind fogged, then it cleared.
Why, of course. Athena's Attic. What was I thinking? I must have been having a mental moment. The pentacle etched into the window was as familiar to me as the blue velvet curtains framing an interior filled with intrigue and mystery. Apothecary cabinets with polished brass handles lined the wall opposite the window; their drawers filled with ingredients for making potions and powders.
Every time I went to a place like this, it was like spinning the wheel on the witchy lottery. Come on, baby. Momma needs a spell that will work.
Two weeks remained until this year's Beltane celebration on the day of my 25th birthday and according to Serena, time wasn't just running out, it was almost up. No one had ever told me there was a deadline, or that if I wasn't up to keeping it lit, the Balefire would have to be passed on to my arch-enemy. I was no closer to my Awakening than I had been last year at this time. Without the ability to fully access my magic, I didn't have enough power to keep the Balefire lit. According to the sparse notes in Clara's little handbook, keepers of the flame experienced a symbiotic relationship with the Balefire, with both witch and flame gaining strength in the transaction. Talk about being caught in a circular problem. Where was a spot of divine intervention when I needed some?
Over the years I'd searched for a way, a charm, a form of meditation--anything that might provide a little something extra. Maybe enough extra to let me complete the Awakening spell. Potions, crystals, ritual candles, and spell books had eaten every penny I could lay my hands on and then begged for more. None of those things brought peace to the restless place inside that called out for the power I knew should have been mine.
Everything you send out into the world is supposed to come back to you in triplicate. Call it Karma, call it a rule of threes, I don't really care because I'm going to call it a steaming pile of dung. I send love out into the world every day. True love. None of that "happily for now" or "love the one you're with" nonsense. According to Karma, I should be getting good vibes back from the universe. All I get is a headache and a kick in the pants.
"Won't you come inside?" A smooth voice dripped honey behind me and I realized I'd been staring into the shop window for some time while my mind had sailed off on a tangent.
"I guess." Color me enthusiastic. I must have been in here a thousand times looking for something that would help. Right? Then why couldn't I remember ever making a single purchase? I should just go home and ask Terra or Evian for advice. Not that they were likely to give me any. In one conversation, Vaeta had provided more insight than they had in almost 25 years.
"Please." One word spoken gently and my resolve vanished like a teenager on laundry day.
The woman standing behind me was my polar opposite. Hair the color of a sunbeam, eyes bluer than sapphires, skin so fine it didn't look real. Anyone would remember meeting this woman. I didn't.
"I'm sorry," The more I tried to look away, the more I felt drawn to stare at her. "Do I know you? Have I been here before?"
A silvery laugh beguiled me even more. "Maybe. Or maybe we met in another life. Do come inside." Those blue eyes swept over me with shrewd assessment. "I've got just the thing for those aching feet." Until that moment I wasn't aware I had aching feet, but as soon as she mentioned them, my arches throbbed painfully.
"Come inside. We'll fix you right up. It's just an herbal remedy. If I promise not to hex you, will you let me help?" A raised eyebrow and a quirk of the lips gave humor
to what might have been a serious statement. She'd taken me for a newbie. Or worse for a seeker--someone without blood ties to power, but looking.
Wondering if the rats had recognized the piper's tune of doom and gone along anyway, I followed the silken swirl of her dress into the shop.
"I'm Athena," she said. "Tea? Brewed from fresh leaves. Chocolate mint."
A favorite of mine and hard to resist.
"Okay."
Don't laugh, but the way she was looking at me reminded me of an Animal Planet documentary. I could hear the hushed voice of the presenter in my head saying, "It's the rare, skittish half-witch. Be careful not to spook her," with an Australian accent, naturally.
That bit of foolishness broke through the stasis.
"I'm sorry. Distracting day. I'd love a cup of tea." What could it hurt? "I'm Alexis. Everyone calls me Lexi."
"Alexis. It's a strong name. Did you know it means protector?" Her knowing that creeped me out a little.
"I did. Ironic, considering how badly I'm falling down on the job." At her blank look, I elaborated, "Do you know anything about awakening spells?"
"So you're a blood witch, then." Her gaze swept over me from head to toe. Standing awkwardly before her, I felt as if she had assessed everything about me. "And a late bloomer." I really wished she'd stop looking at me like that.
"The last of a once-great line. Probably better if it ends with me; at least I won't be passing down genes tainted with the evil of the last two generations," I said bitterly.
A sudden shadow cast Athena's face into sinister lines and for a fleeting second, the skin on the back of my neck lifted and crawled.
"You're the last Balefire. Keeper of the Flame." No getting away from my family history. My great, great and then some, grandmother brought the fire to America when it was barely more than a few settlements. Keeping watch over the ritual flame used to light the Beltane fire was more than just a job in my family, it was our identity. Real witches could recognize one of us in a crowd, so her knowledge of that aspect of my heritage didn't bother me, but the knowing look in her eyes sure did.
"For a few more days. Then I will become Alexis No Name. Loser of the Flame, which will then pass to the scourge of witchkind."
Athena, without asking, doctored my tea just the way I liked it best. A splash of milk and a dollop of honey went into both cups along with the fragrant minty goodness. Apparently, she drank hers the same way. Weird.
We settled into a pair of chairs that made up a reading corner in the area where she sold books. I eyed Athena warily over the edge of my cup. Years of dealing with people told me she was either one of two types. A) she wanted to sell me something and would do anything to get me to buy, or B) she was naturally curious to the point where the personal part of the term "personal information" meant nothing.
"Tell me all about yourself. What do you do? Besides carrying on your family tradition."
Totally B.
To tell the truth, I hate answering that question. Hate it with a bloody passion. Once they hear I'm a matchmaker, more than a few people look at me like I'm a meddling she-spider who wants to trap them in a committed relationship. That faction is mostly men, by the way. Not all of them, though. Some of them jump to the conclusion I'm running an undercover escort service. You can tell by the way their eyes slide south the minute I mention my profession.
Women have more complex reactions. Some start to gush, some ask for my card--there are men who do that as well--and some mentally go through their list of friends for any hidden clues to tell them which ones might have used my services. The ones who are already in happy relationships get a twinkle in their eye that tells me their thoughts have turned to the day they met their own true love.
"I facilitate interpersonal relationships in the dating milieu." Milieu? What on earth made me say that? "Matchmaker." Just calling it like it is made me feel better.
Athena seemed unsurprised, which made me wonder why she asked a question to which she might have already known the answer.
"It sounds like fulfilling work. Is there any money in it?" People inevitably ask questions about my job once they learn I'm a matchmaker. This was the first time anyone ever asked me about the financial aspect rather than the romantic one.
"I make a living." My stiff posture and dismissive tone let her know this line of questioning was not welcome.
"A regular Cupid."
An apt comparison, I supposed, if not an entirely original one. Though, this was the first time it had been delivered with a hint of bitterness.
Since her statement required no answer, I sipped my tea without speaking. No wonder I didn't shop here regularly. The owner was a busybody.
Still, I couldn't afford to let any straws pass without grasping at them, so I said, "Have you worked here long?"
"Hmm? Oh, no. Not really."
Okay then. The awkwardness had gone on long enough, so I came right out with the one question I dearly wanted an answer to. "Is there anything you can tell me about how to awaken my magic? I've tried so many times and there's no one left to ask for help." Athena's face turned pensive, but she offered no suggestion.
A silence fell between us that grew so long it tumbled right into that awkward space where I wasn't sure whether she couldn't help me, or could and didn't want to. An eternity passed before I said, "Well, this was fun. I'll just be going now."
"No, please. One more question, is there no one, even a distant family member who could become Keeper in your place?"
Jab another sore spot, why don't you. "No. No family at all. I was adopted." Technically a lie. "There's nobody to explain to me what I'm doing wrong; why I can't seem to access the path to my magic. I've done the spell over and over. I don't know what's missing. I think it has to do with not knowing how to focus my intention, but my...the people who raised me have a different frame of reference and are unable to explain." Or unwilling. I kept that last bit to myself.
"What spell?" She asked, curiosity lighting up her already too beautiful face.
I fished through my purse and pulled out my day planner. Tucked between two pages was a slightly crumpled piece of parchment. Handling it gingerly to keep from smudging the handwritten text any more than it already was, I laid the spell on the table. "To Awaken the Initiate" it was labeled, and as Athena ran a scarlet-tipped finger down the ingredients list, her eyes narrowed infinitesimally.
"Where did you get this?"
"I found it in my grandmother's things. Right before my fourteenth birthday. Why?"
"This isn't..." A frown marred the perfection of her forehead. "Never mind."
Again with the cryptic.
Athena read the spell aloud twice, giving each verse the correct intonation and cadence. She had me repeat it several times to make sure I'd remember the precise inflections.
"The initiate must prepare herself by completing a cleansing ritual for clear sight, followed by a drawing spell to call the latent magic into being. The list of ingredients is pretty standard." Pulling a sheet of lined paper from under the counter, Athena scratched down a couple notes. "Modern conventions are nice, but a copper tub is best for Awakenings. No one has those anymore, so I'm making some changes to the list. Three pennies added to the water will mitigate the effects of the porcelain. Are you hooked up to the city water supply?"
"For the past ten years, why?"
"Chemical alchemy." I just stared at her. "Chlorinated water. Use these." She tossed a foil wrapped packet at me. "Effervescent bath salts, a trial pack should do it. I make these myself. They have vitamin C; good for the skin and for counteracting chemical additives."
Athena went to work. Running a finger down the list, she collected ingredients from various shelves around the store, naming them as they went into the bag.
"Right here, this says to pound the dried dandelion root. Use a mortar and pestle, but don't grind it. You understand?"
I nodded. Despite the odd sense of mistrust I felt around her, I rose to stand
near the counter and watch while she sorted through her wares with abandon. Finally, there was only one more item left on the list. Stone of Blood. Athena tapped her finger against the words scrawled on the yellowed sheet.
"Stone of Blood. That's bloodstone, right? Also known as heliotrope. Stone of blood sounds cooler, though." My comment was met with a blank look. Athena's mind seemed to be focused elsewhere, but I kept talking anyway. "Stone of blood. Bloodstone. What else could it be?" Athena nodded absently.
"How would you recommend I charge the bloodstone? I've tried running water, sunlight, moonlight, and incense. Is there anything I'm missing?" Despite her strange reactions and constant questions, Athena was helping me feel confident about my chances of making the spell work this time.
There was a pause before she answered. "Bloodstone reacts best to contact. Carrying it close to your heart is the best way. Let it touch your skin."
I grimaced thinking of the two-pound hunk of it sitting on my windowsill. Not the easiest thing to tuck into your clothing. My consternation must have shown because Athena patted me on the arm.
"Here, take this one. It will bring you luck." Her eyes locked on mine with intensity while her fingers unerringly picked the clasp of a heavy silver chain from among the pendants she wore around her own neck. She chose an oval cabochon of forest green flecked with brilliant red and polished to a slick gloss nestled in a simple silver setting.
Before I could say no, she rounded the counter and motioned for me to hold my hair out of the way while she slid the necklace into place. Her fingers felt both warm and cold upon my neck and I shivered under the sensation. "Please accept the Stone of Blood as my gift to you. May it help you keep the fire burning in your hearth."
"Are you sure? It looks old. I wouldn't feel right accepting so valuable a gift."
"Take it, Lexi." Athena's voice softened. "With my blessing." After all the intense looks, the cheeky smile she displayed next was welcome. "Besides, that bag of supplies is going to cost you a pretty penny." I settled the bill while she asked random questions about my home and family.
A Match Made in Spell (Fate Weaver Book 1) Page 6