Banish

by Nicola Marsh

  I sat cross-legged on the floor and laid the book at my feet. I spent an inordinate amount of time staring at it, at the creased purple leather cover and its frayed corners, at the dangling sliver of purple silk used as a bookmark midway through the thick pages.

  I could guess what the book contained. A list of spells and incantations, rituals and recipes for herbal mixtures, dream records and magick thoughts. Angie’s Book of Shadows. A witch’s most prized possession. And very private.

  I shouldn’t pry.

  I shouldn’t look.

  Which of course made me flick open to the first page.

  The parchment pages crackled beneath my fingertips as I carefully flipped pages, phrases like moon magic, casting a circle, calling the quarters, invoking the goddess and psychic scrying leaping out at me. Notations in Angie’s precise handwriting dotted the margins and the bottom of some pages in various coloured inks. There were diagrams and verses, spell-casting instructions and warnings.

  I skimmed the lot, searching for something…

  The next page had the laughable title “Ghost-busting”. Some of the junior high kids in Broadwater had run a movie night to raise funds for a new gym and had screened some classic old movies, including Ghostbusters. I’d slipped out on that one, not needing any reminders of what I lived with at home.

  The first line of writing beneath the heading caught my attention: Cleanse Your Home of Unwanted Spiritual Energies.

  While I didn’t believe for a second Noah would suddenly start haunting me—well, maybe a nanosecond—it couldn’t hurt to be prepared. So I read on. And found myself reluctantly intrigued.

  To prepare for a banishing spell, it is essential to cleanse first.

  Cleansing your space is achieved with some combination of sage, incense, or salt and water.

  You will need to call the quarters (four elements: earth, air, fire, water), invoke the goddess and cast a circle to protect those within as they work and contain the magick.

  Note: the magick working can take a variety of forms.

  Ensure you ground after the magick is done (often by the consumption of cakes and ale, but any food is good for bringing you back to the everyday world).

  Dismiss the quarters, thank the goddess and open the circle.

  While I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to perform a banishing spell, and nor did I want to try, it couldn’t hurt to try cleansing my room. I’d seen Mom do it often enough. But the thought of going through a ritual I didn’t really believe in seemed wrong. Would it even work for a non-believer? Doubtful. But if the dead body in the music clip hadn’t been bad enough, Noah’s necklace showing up here had tipped me towards trying anything that might help.

  Besides, how hard could it be? Unlike the séance at 666, which had freaked me out, rituals didn’t. While Mom hadn’t encouraged me to participate in witchcraft, she hadn’t been averse to me watching and for a kid between five and nine years of age, all that witchy stuff had been pretty damn appealing.

  Drumming had been my favourite and Mom had let me use her prized Celtic bodhran, a flat Irish drum made from goatskin, as she prepared for a ritual. I’d beat that drum with unquenchable enthusiasm as Mom drew her chalk circle on the ground, then I would increase the tempo as she gathered her althame, candles and implements, knowing the good stuff was about to begin. Apparently the drumming was a way to commune with the gods and goddesses, to focus and celebrate. I just liked the sound and being close to Mom.

  I had also played with her crystals, sorting them by colour and shape; had helped her make soothing salves from calendula and chamomile, and lined up her tiny flasks of home-blended magickal oils, sniffing the lingering lemongrass, peppermint and grapefruit essential oils on my fingertips for hours afterwards. I could have believed in paganism as I grew older. If I hadn’t seen what it had done to my mom. And the fact she wouldn’t let me near her Wicca ways after it.

  No, Angie’s cleansing ritual wasn’t for me, no matter how much I wanted to rid my room/aura/life of bad stuff. How could it be, when I didn’t believe it would achieve the desired end result? Me, free of spooks and the past.

  I shut the book, picked it up and slipped it back into the drawer, sliding the drawer home with a decisive click.

  Thankfully, the puke stench had mostly dissipated from my room courtesy of the open window and I booted up the computer, needing to unwind with a mindless half hour of YouTube surfing before I showered and hit the books.

  Midway through pulling on my favourite sweatshirt, my computer emitted a strange, prolonged beep and, yanking my arms through, I bent over to take a look.

  The home screen appeared normal. Yet as I moved my finger over the mouse pad, the first eerie strains of a song filtered through the soundboard.

  I snatched my finger away and stared at the computer in dawning horror.

  Taylor Swift’s “Forever and Always”.

  Our song.

  Noah’s and mine.

  I screamed and fled the room, heading straight for Angie’s armoire.

  The sooner I got rid of this ghost, the better.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE SONG HAD shut off after a single play-through, but that had been enough.

  The music echoed through my head, the lyrics hinting at loss and heartache and pain hitting too close. I knew all about those first-hand. I might not believe in spirits or ghosts but as I marched back into my bedroom and kicked the door shut, I was going to do my damnedest to keep the things out. Stupid thing was, while hearing our song had initially freaked me out, it didn’t hold the same power as the necklace that had miraculously teleported from Noah’s burial site to New York City.

  Any number of people knew about our song: we’d had half the town sighing over us when we’d slow-danced to it at the annual fair. The fact it had suddenly played on my computer out of the blue? Beyond bizarre. And I hated my subconscious instantly flashing to my current computer genius boyfriend, who didn’t have a clue about Noah let alone what our favourite song had been.

  Seriously pissed that I doubted Ronan when I wanted to trust him, I laid my stash on the bed. Angie’s Book of Shadows and the stuff I’d collected for the ghost-busting.

  A snigger curled my lip. Just thinking about doing this made me laugh but hey, the spell sounded harmless enough and couldn’t hurt.

  I removed the incense dish, sweetgrass braid and large feather from on top of the book’s cover and placed them on the desk. I took it as a good sign I flipped straight to the right page, rereading the spell. There was an introductory spiel, about visitors to your house who may leave behind unwanted negative spiritual energies, or maybe your magick work had inadvertently attracted unwanted ghostly guests.

  Seeing as Angie was rarely home she seldom entertained, so I crossed out the first option. The second? A possibility. I had no idea what magick Angie performed here and I didn’t want to know. But the chances of my dead ex-boyfriend lobbing into her place? Unlikely.

  Grateful for the detailed diagrams—it had been a long time since I’d seen this performed and I wouldn’t have known a sweetgrass braid from an oregano sprig—I lit the sweetgrass so it smouldered. The book mentioned cleansing a place or person in a ceremony called smudging, but I didn’t have enough time to do anything beyond the basics. If I could call ghost-busting basic.

  I placed the sweetgrass in the incense dish and used the feather to waft the smoke over my body from head to toe. Did I feel ridiculous? Hell yeah, but I had to concentrate for this to have the slightest chance of working.

  Once I’d smudged myself I walked around the room, waving the smoke into every corner and over every surface, paying special attention to my possessed computer. I didn’t recite the chant in the book—there was only so much ghost-busting a girl could take—but I imagined a dark cloud concentrating near the window and with a decisive flick of my feather, I chased it outside.

  I would have liked to slam the window shut but the heady aroma of the sweetgrass was as pungen
t as puke and the last thing I needed was Angie discovering I’d been delving in her box of tricks.

  I glanced at the book, noting I now had to meditate and fill my heart with a golden light. Later. After I’d put everything back so Angie didn’t bust my ass.

  When I’d returned everything to its rightful place, I eased back into my room. It didn’t feel any different, but I did. For the first time since I’d arrived home and found that parcel on the doorstep, I felt calm. In control. Like I’d done something proactive.

  I closed my eyes for a moment and pressed my fingers to the lids, seeing enough golden light to count as part of my ghost-busting, then I gathered my PJs and headed for the bathroom.

  Right now a shower would be more cleansing than anything I could conjure up.

  WHEN I MET Seth at our study corral the next day, he lasted two minutes before bringing up the one topic I didn’t want to talk about.

  “Tabitha’s worried about you.”

  My pen poised halfway through solving a maths problem as I glared at Seth.

  “Tell your girlfriend I’m fine.”

  Kudos to him, he didn’t flinch in the face of my blatant animosity. I may have busted some ghosts last night but I still hadn’t got around to figuring out Tabitha’s role in all this.

  He screwed up his nose as if he’d smelled something nasty. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  My raised eyebrow begged to differ. “Really? You seem to know an awful lot about her kooky extracurricular activities.”

  “We’re not together.” The violet flecks in his eyes glowed for a second before he blinked, eradicating any hint of irritation. “Why, you jealous?”

  I snorted. “I’d have to care to be jealous.”

  “God, you’re a bitch sometimes.”

  He turned away and I mentally kicked myself for taking the joke too far. Seth wasn’t some friend I’d had forever—actually, I didn’t have any of those left back home either. I’d only known him a few months and he didn’t get me like I thought.

  “Sorry, that was my stupid sense of humour.” I touched his arm. “I was just teasing.”

  He moved away on the pretext of getting a book out of his backpack. Guess I needed to brush up on my apology skills. That’s all I needed, to ruin the one friendship in my life on top of everything else.

  Maybe a different tactic would ease the sudden tension between us. Showing an interest in his other friends couldn’t hurt, not after the way I’d botched this.

  “How long have you two been hanging out?”

  He didn’t look up from rummaging in his backpack. “Since I first arrived in New York. We catch up occasionally.”

  “Do you like her?”

  When he glanced up, his lips were compressed in a thin, angry line. “What is this, twenty frigging questions?”

  Ouch. Note to self: don’t ask Seth personal questions. “I just figured you’ve listened to me rave on about Ronan but you’ve never shared any private stuff with me.”

  He shrugged as he dumped his backpack on the floor and kicked it under the table, his expression shadowed. “There’s a reason for that.” He flexed his arm, pointed at his bicep. “I’m a guy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that crap about guys being emotionally stunted. You can share with the rest of us.”

  When he finally faced me, his wink didn’t hide the emptiness in his eyes. “Sorry, my lips are sealed.”

  I groaned and shoved a practice exam across the desk towards him. “Fine. If you don’t want to share, make a start on that.”

  We worked in silence for five minutes, but rather than solving maths equations I found myself wondering about Seth: how we’d been drawn together, two loner newbies needing a friend but content not to divulge too much of our private lives. I knew next to nothing about him, apart from how well we worked together and what a good listener he was. Considering how he’d clammed up, I guessed I should leave it that way.

  Besides, if I probed into his private life he might delve into mine, and that wasn’t an option. I’d already told him how Mom and my aunt were into supernatural stuff. And about the dead body. Time to leave well enough alone.

  He snuck a sideways glance at me. “If you don’t want to see Tab, that’s fine, but she has a message for you.”

  With an exaggerated huff, I folded my arms. “What now?”

  “She said séances, especially incomplete ones, can leave behind residual negative energy.” He paused, his gaze shifting away from mine. “She said you need to be careful.”

  “Of?”

  “Becoming a target.”

  Trepidation tingled at the base of my spine and I wriggled around in my chair. “So you’re telling me some bad-ass spirit is out to get me, as well as some lunatic planting fake dead bodies on my computer?”

  He frowned. “Maybe you should take this more seriously?”

  I blew a raspberry, not willing to clue him in that when an impartial party was getting angsty it didn’t help my own stress levels.

  And he didn’t even know about the necklace or the song.

  Making a big show of glancing at my watch, I tapped my pen against my notebook. “Thanks, but I’ve got more important things to worry about right now, starting with acing this next test.”

  His lips twitched, like he was about to say something else, before he turned away and resumed studying.

  I tried to focus but it took a good thirty minutes and ten maths problems for that uneasy tingle to dissipate.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I RUSHED HOME after study period had finished, relieved to see Ronan waiting on the top step.

  “Sure you want to do this?”

  He nodded and gave me a quick hug before easing back. “When I said I want to help you clear up this mess, I meant it.”

  I’d been grateful for the offer but a small part of me felt guilty at insisting we meet here. This time when we investigated clues online I wanted it to be on my turf, away from his intimidating computer set-up I didn’t trust.

  My lopsided smile matched the wobbly feeling in my tummy. “Thanks, let’s do it.”

  If he noted my fake brightness he didn’t say anything, hanging back while I let us in.

  “Nice place.” He followed me into the kitchen where I dumped my bag in its usual corner next to Persephone’s cage. “Sure your aunt’s not going to arrive home unexpectedly and turn me into a rat?”

  I laughed. “Rats make good familiars, so I doubt it.”

  “Familiars?”

  “Most witches have a four-footed companion.” I opened the fridge and held up a diet cola. He nodded and I slid it across the bench, grabbing another for myself. “Mom told me in the old days familiars were animals that contained supernatural spirits who communed with and helped their chosen witch.”

  His eyebrow inverted in a sceptical arch. “You’re telling me your aunt has an animal that contains a wise spirit who helps her out?”

  As if on cue, Persephone scuttled into the kitchen and leaped into my arms.

  Ronan reared back. “Whoa. What the hell’s that?”

  “Not a rodent person, huh?” I rubbed my nose against Persephone’s fur. “Meet Persephone, the cleverest chinchilla in New York City.”

  “Probably the only chinchilla in New York City,” he muttered, eyeing Angie’s familiar dubiously. “Looks like a fur ball on ’roids.”

  I pretended to frown and cuddled Persephone closer. “I couldn’t possibly date a guy who didn’t like familiars.”

  The corners of his mouth quirked into a sexy half-smile that made my heart flutter. “But you said you’re not a witch?”

  “I’m not, but I’m an animal lover.”

  “I’m a dog guy.” He stared at Persephone with distrust. “Squirrels are plain weird.”

  “Not a squirrel, a crepuscular rodent.” I stroked the top of Persephone’s head with my fingertip. “Who takes great offence at being called a squirrel.”

  Ronan grinned. “If you can tel
l me what crepuscular means, I might not be too grossed out by you cuddling a rodent.”

  I mock frowned but it lost impact when I couldn’t help but grin back at him. “It means Perse’s most active during twilight.”

  I turned Persephone towards Ronan. “How could you not love a face like this?”

  “I guess the fur face kinda grows on you.” He reached out a tentative hand to stroke Persephone’s back.

  The fact Persephone didn’t bristle was a good sign. Perse liked his routine and tended to get a little stressed when it changed, like when I first moved in. Thankfully, the little fella had soon got used to me and I’d got used to his nocturnal scuttling around the house.

  According to Angie, he was also extra-sensitive to negative forces. Too bad he’d been napping in his cage during the necklace and song saga yesterday. I could have done with a forewarning. Upside, now? If he liked Ronan, my boyfriend couldn’t be all bad.

  A small smile curved Ronan’s lips as Persephone snuggled deeper into the crook of my neck. “She’s pretty cute for a fur ball.”

  I sniggered. “She’s a he.”

  “But Persephone’s female?”

  I chuckled at his confusion. “Angie’s a huge fan of the Greek story of Demeter.”

  Mom was too, which is why she’d named her familiar, a degu, Demeter. I missed him as much as I missed Mom. But I couldn’t afford to get sentimental now. Ronan had offered to help me research some stuff and that’s where I had to focus.

  He grinned, sheepish. “My Greek mythology knowledge isn’t so flash.”

  “She’s a mother goddess, and the goddess of grain. Hades, god of the Underworld, kidnapped her daughter Persephone, and took her down to the land of the dead to be his queen. Cut a long story short, Demeter roamed the world searching for her daughter. Persephone made it back to earth but because she’d eaten pomegranate seeds while in the land of the dead, she had to return there a few months of the year. Demeter mourned during those months and the earth was no longer fruitful. Here in New York we call that winter.”