Arcane Wisdome

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  A note on the fridge said: We’re off to the mall.

  We’ll be back by noon.

  Remember it’s barbeque tonight.

  Dad

  Lucy smiled and hurried up to her room, glad she didn’t need to come up with any explanations for what she had bought. She slipped the candles, ribbon, and modeling clay into her shirts-and-sweaters drawer, then, on impulse, she hurried off to pull down the attic stairs, and climbed up to look through her mother’s books again.

  * * *

  The familiar sense of comfort that Lucy had gained from the company of her mother’s things seemed oddly diminished, and as she opened two more boxes, she had a moment of panic, feeling too much alone at a time she longed to be able to seek the comfort of her mother’s presence. She rummaged through the larger box, pulling out Climatology and Social Evolution; From Vengeance to Law: the development of cities and the concept of legality; Jesus and Hercules; Weather-Witching; High Tech in the Ancient World — she set this one aside — Perceptions of Time; Pantheism in the Egyptian Pantheon; Lunar Mythologies; Fertility Made Captive: priests and the Goddess Cults; and Herbalism, Witchcraft, and the Healing Traditions. After a brief hesitation, Lucy took this one, too.

  Suddenly Lucy started to cry. First her breath caught in her throat, then soft, keening sobs were wrung out of her as she hugged High Tech in the Ancient World tightly to her chest. She rocked where she sat, misery taking hold of her like a sudden flu. How could this have happened to her? How could she have been so blind? What had she done? She couldn’t imagine how Nate turned out to be such a ... a ganzer! She might as well have gone with Bruce Paxton. At least she knew he was a ganzer. It was so unfair! It was such treachery.

  She wished she could talk to her mother about what happened at Ditch Day. For the first time in a long time Lucy felt deeply sad. She missed her mother keenly, and for the first time she felt she had lost the link to her. Her sobs deepened and she gave way to the full strength of her anger and grief.

  It took her almost twenty minutes to stop weeping, and when she did, she dried her eyes and was about to pack up most of her mother’s books when she noticed a small book, like a thin paperback but with a cheap cardboardy cover, wedged in between Weather-Witching and High Tech in the Ancient World. She worked it out and stared at it.

  Lucy looked down at the book: Triskellion: the intersection of Mathematics, Physics, and Magic. She opened the cover and thumbed through the pages. There was something here, she thought. Maybe the Gothic Geeks would like to read this. Maybe it would set their minds at ease about the formulae she had worked out for them. Then she thought maybe she should show it to Ben first, just so he could tell her if this was more like game theory than algorithms.

  At the thought of Ben, she winced. She didn’t like it that he would hear the same gossip about her that all the rest of the sophomores would be sharing over finals week. She wondered if she should text him to explain, but thought better of it. If he asked her about it, then she’d tell him what happened. But she couldn’t help hoping he wouldn’t ask, at least not yet.

  With the three books in her arms, she climbed down the ladder-stairs, and raised them up into the ceiling. She had a lot to do before she began the sending to get even with Nate Evers. Perhaps, she told herself, she would feel better once she had done the sending.

  * * *

  Lucy spent the afternoon on her computer finishing up her semester papers for Geometry and Environmental Science, and went down to help Melinda with dinner at four-thirty. They were about to have the first barbeque out on the deck, so there were a lot of veggies to prepare for grilling, an early watermelon to cut into chunks, and chicken and ribs to take out of their marinades.

  Jason had arrived before Lucy and Jacob, and was cutting up potatoes for wedge fries for the oven. He glanced over at Lucy, his face looking more impish than usual. “You still haven’t said anything about Ditch Day. What happened? Aren’t you going to tell?””

  “No, I’m not,” said Lucy, and gave her attention to Melinda.

  “Take the squashes and slice them thin, then brush them with olive oil,” Melinda told her.

  “Ditch Day!" Jason demanded.

  “Jase, let her take care of the veggies,” said Melinda. “We’ll hear about it when she’s ready.”

  “When who’s ready?" Jacob asked as he came into the kitchen.

  “When Lucy’s ready to talk about Ditch Day." Jason explained.

  “Why not now?" Jacob tweaked her arm as passed behind her.

  “Because,” said Lucy.

  Jason made kissing noises.

  “Stop it!" Lucy exclaimed with more heat than she had intended.

  Melinda noticed the color that mounted in Lucy’s face, and said, “Leave her alone.”

  “Didn’t Nate like you, after all?" Jacob persisted.

  “No, he didn’t,” Lucy blurted out. “And I didn’t like him." She looked around the suddenly silent kitchen. “There. Are you happy?”

  Now Melinda was certain that this was not something the family needed to explore just now. She took the potatoes from Jason. “Put some oil on the baking sheet — not too much — and spread the potatoes around. The oven’s hot enough. They need to bake about twenty minutes, and then you can sprinkle — and I mean sprinkle — them with grated cheese and parsley."

  “Okay, okay,” said Jason, and exchanged some kind of signal with his twin.

  “And no more teasing, you two,” Melinda told them firmly.

  “Okay,” Jacob conceded, although the shine in his eyes contradicted this.

  Lucy went back to slicing squash.

  * * *

  That evening as she checked her messages, Lucy was surprised to see something from Ben:

  Hey, Lucy,

  No matter what Nate says about you, I know it isn’t true. Don’t let it bother you, okay?

  Lucy stared at the screen, indignant tears in her eyes. She wanted to scream and throw things, to tear one of her pillows to pieces, but she held back the impulse, knowing it would only lead to questions she didn’t want to answer. Where did Ben get the idea that he had to tell her anything like this? She pinched the bridge of her nose, tossed her hair — and remembered she had an appointment for a haircut next weekend. Seizing on this for a distraction, she decided she would try something different, for summer, maybe something shorter, fringy-er. Forcing herself to gather her thoughts, she finally texted back:

  Thanks.

  The answer was too terse and she knew it, but she could think of nothing more to say that wouldn’t make things worse; she was convinced that she had to keep from casting around accusations and recriminations, for that would only lead to more gossip and rumors, which was the last thing she wanted. She was glad she remembered what her mother used to tell her when she got caught up in school feuds: Don’t add fuel to the fire, Lucy. Don’t get dragged into making things worse. At the time it had seemed just the kind of thing mothers said to their kids to make them feel better, but now she was beginning to understand what her mother had meant, and she knew this was the kind of situation her mother had been talking about.

  She was proud of the solution she had come to regarding the sending she had prepared: she had avoided making her sending one that would compound the rancor, or escalate the conflict between them. Nate would pay for what he had done, not only to her, but to other girls, and she would be satisfied that he had had to answer for his misdeeds.

  After the better part of an hour, it struck her that Ben had been really nice to send her the note, and that maybe she should let him know she appreciated what he said with more than one word. But that would be for later. She had more immediate things on her mind.

  At ten-thirty Lucy heard her dad and Melinda go to bed after seeing the lights were out in Jacob’s and Jason’s rooms. She heard the house grow quiet; she waited for more than an hour before she set out the tools for her sending, taking care to shape the arrow of salt so that it pointed toward the Evers’
house, half a mile away. She placed the candles at the point and the base of the arrow. Then she took out a sheet of paper from her desk and using the fountain pen her Aunt Caroline had given her a year ago, she wrote out what she was sending to Nate Evers:

  Nathaniel Evers, this is my sending: that for one week you will answer every question put to you fully and truthfully. You will not retreat into silence. You will not be able to change the subject. You will not be able to get others to speak for you. You will be incapable of any form of lie or deception on any subject or about any events. By fire, by air, by water, by earth, you are enjoined.

  Lucy placed the page she had printed out with the instructions for the sending at the base of the arrowhead of salt. She raised the paper with the sending on it and placed it at the point of the arrow; an errant breeze coming from some unknown place made the paper flutter, so she weighted it down with the glass of water she had included with her supplies to represent the element of water. She trusted this would not lessen the intent of the sending.

  “Nathaniel Evers,” she intoned, reading from the printout, “reap what you have sown. Show your true face to the world." She lit the candles, repeating the phrase with each one set alight. As their soft glow suffused the room, Lucy nodded her satisfaction. “Nathaniel Evers, you will be bound by this sending for one week, and nothing will break this bond until the time is done." She took up her length of doweling and tapped the candles in order, then the ribbons, then the glass of water, and last the arrow of salt; it was an effort to keep from shaking. “So you have sown, thus do you reap." Taking the handwritten page, she held it over the three burning candles until it blackened and crumbled into ash, which she gathered up and carefully dropped into the glass of water. “The sending is released and none shall call it back." Then she stirred the water with her doweling, saying as she did, “Try to deceive or mitigate your wrongdoings and your eyes will ache and itch so that you cannot see; your voice will grow harsh like the cry of frogs; your guts will pain you; food will be as ashes and thorns in your mouth; you will not sleep; you will be marked with acne, your head will ache as if in a vise; you will sweat constantly; you will reveal your misdeeds to all who will listen. Only when all your betrayals are known and all your lies are acknowledged will you find peace with your body and your soul." She drank four sips of the ashy water, saying “By fire. By air. By water. By earth,” between the sips as she did.

  She steadied herself as a wave of vertigo went through her, and she shook as if an earthquake had gone through the house. Her hands seemed suddenly cold and there was the beginning of a headache at the back of her skull. She looked around warily, her eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and fear. As casting spells had shown her, doing magic had some curious repercussions, and so while she found these sensations unnerving, she felt no panic from them, and gradually they subsided, leaving her feeling deeply tired. She wondered if she would dream tonight, and couldn’t decide if she wanted to or not. Thank goodness tomorrow was Sunday, when she could sleep in.

  Forcing herself to concentrate, she finished the last of the sending and cleaned up the floor, and prepared to take her supplies out of the house and some distance away when she heard the door to the master bedroom open and someone head down the stairs.

  Lucy froze in place, and for a long minute did little but try not to breathe too loudly. Then, very carefully, she loaded her sending supplies into the plastic bag she gotten at Walgreens, taking care to make as little noise as possible; next, she turned out her light, blinking in the abrupt darkness as she gathered her thoughts. Slipping the bag into her closet, she waited until she heard footsteps on the stairs and the master bedroom door close before she did anything more. As she often had in the past few weeks, she thought about how she would explain herself if she were ever caught doing magic, and had to admit she had no idea. It was a pretty safe bet that her father and Melinda wouldn’t approve, and that left her feeling the need to be even more careful. It was awkward enough that the Geeks knew, but not nearly as bad as what she was afraid might happen if the family found out. She sat on the side of her bed, wanting to give her dad and Melinda a half hour to fall asleep once more, but in a little while, her eyes grew heavy and she fell back onto her pillow. If she dreamed she didn’t remember it.

  * * *

  She woke abruptly shortly before five in the morning, when the first stirring before dawn had begun. She shook herself, and scowled. Then it struck her—the materials she had used for the sending had been in the house for more than four hours. Willing herself awake, she got the bag out of the closet and hurried out of the house to dispose of them properly, all the while hoping that this delay wouldn’t compromise the sending, nor would it slop over onto her. Once the bag and its contents were disposed of, she headed back home in the early morning dusk, thinking as she went that it would be a warm day.

  She was able to get into the house without disturbing anyone, and sighed as she climbed back into bed. What would have happened if anyone in the family had caught her leaving, or holding the bag of supplies? How would she have explained herself? The same problems rattled around in her brain, and provided no new answers: as little as the Gothic Geeks might have doubts about what she was doing, she was increasingly certain her dad and Melinda wouldn’t approve, and the twins would tease her constantly. The idea of what that could mean gave her a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  Gradually her anxiety subsided and once again she slept.

  * * *

  By the time Lucy woke up it was after ten and the house was filled with excitement for this was the day the twins would go to the local rescue shelter and choose their dog. They were already vying with one another as to who would have the honor of naming it, and how soon they would be able to bring the new pet home if they couldn’t bring it home today.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” said Lucy’s dad as she came into the kitchen, her hair still wet from the shower. She could hear Jacob and Jason in the back yard, trying to decide where the doghouse would go, and checking the fence to be sure it hadn’t any breaks in it from the last time they had inspected it.

  “I overslept,” said Lucy as she sat down at the table.

  “Getting ready for finals?" Melinda asked.

  “Pretty much,” said Lucy, glad to have some kind of excuse for getting up after everyone else.

  “Well, you’re prepared,” said her father, not quite able to conceal how much relief he felt saying this.

  “I guess,” said Lucy, and reached for the carton of orange juice. “I’m going to take the afternoon off.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” said Melinda. “Don’t wear yourself out before the tests start.”

  Lucy glanced toward the window as a loud shout came from outside. “They’re really excited, aren’t they?”

  “That they are,” said her father. “Do you want an omelet?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll probably just wait until lunch." She saw her dad and Melinda exchange glances; she made herself say nothing.

  “Are you feeling okay?" her father asked her. “You sure you’re not over-stressing on finals?”

  “Hey, I’m seeing Isadora tomorrow,” said Lucy, avoiding a direct answer. “She can help me sort it out. Don’t get all dazer about it." She was glad to have this excuse available since it relieved her father and stepmother without giving them any crucial information.

  “Good,” said her dad. “Do you think you’ll mind about the dog?”

  “Why should I?" Lucy countered, a bit more sharply than she intended. “Jase and Jake know what they want.”

  “I don’t know, Lucy,” he answered. “But you never asked for a pet, so ... ” His voice trailed off.

  She didn’t remind him that they had almost got a dog shortly after her mother died, but she had changed her mind, not want to risk losing anything more than she already had. “I wouldn’t mind having a cat,” Lucy admitted, surprising herself as well as her dad. “But college isn’t far off,
and I probably wouldn’t be able to take a pet with me, so it’s just as well I don’t get one now. The twins really want a dog, and they’ll be here to take care of it.”

  “That’s ... very mature of you, Lucy,” her father said.

  Melinda broke the awkward silence that descended upon them. “Do you have anything on your agenda today?”

  “Studying. I might go over to the Foster’s and see the Geeks." Until she spoke aloud, she had had no plans to see the Geeks any time soon, for they still seemed spooked by what she had done to break the spell on their computers.

  “It’s good to take a break." Melinda sighed.

  “Summer vacation’s just a week away,” said Lucy.

  Her father smiled at her. “We’ll make the most of it, won’t we?”

  “Sure,” said Lucy with no conviction at all.

  * * *

  Tom Foster and Spencer Ryan were working alone in the garage when Lucy arrived, Tom on the desktop, Spencer on his laptop. Neither of them gave Lucy more than a cursory nod for a greeting as she came through the door; they continued to tap the keys in front of them.

  “Just the two of you?" Lucy asked as she looked around the place. It would have been friendlier if Niki or Gweneth had been there, but she decided to make the most of the situation. “Getting a lot done?”

  “Bruce is stopping by later,” said Spencer with a nasty little smirk.

  “Bruce. Oh." Lucy pretended not to notice his slight. “What about the rest of you?”

  “Studying for finals,” said Tom.

  “You ready for yours?" Spencer asked. “Or are you going to spend the time running after Nate Evers, like the rest of the stupid girls?”