Girl's Guide To Witchcraft

by Mindy L. Klasky

  David grinned, and the expression helped him to slip back into the new and improved warder that I'd come to like. "So you've decided to move on to crystals?"

  "I told Neko that I was looking for something to help my grandmother." I summarized Gran's illness.

  David nodded. "You've shown some affinity for spells. But working with crystals is completely different. Most witches aren't able to work both areas."

  "I think I might manage." I looked at the box again, at drawer after drawer of empowered stones. "I think my mother has an affinity for crystals."

  If David understood how much effort it took for me to call Clara my mother, he didn't say anything. Instead, he came to sit beside me. "Let's see what you can do, then." He reached into the box and shifted the layers to get to the bottom one. His fingers ranged over the divided compart­ments, alighting first on one stone, then on another.

  I glanced at Neko. He was watching David curiously, turning his head slightly to the side, as if he were trying to discern some meaning behind my warder's actions. As David finally selected one stone, Neko nodded minutely. I reached out my hand for the rock, and Neko leaned close to me, as he had when we cast the fire spell in my kitchen.

  David set the stone on my palm. "Tell me what you feel."

  It was a clear crystal about half the length of my index finger. I turned it around in the light, looking for striations or other markings, but there was nothing to distract from the stones simple perfection. If not for its weight and its cool touch, it might have been made of plastic. I examined its facets and found nothing, no distinguishing marks, no surface features.

  I started to feel silly. I mean, here it was, the middle of the night. I was a grown woman, looking for a magic token to help my sick grandmother. What did I think this was? Some sort of fairy tale? I closed my hand over the stone and looked at David. "What?" he asked.

  "Nothing! It's a rock."

  Neko shifted closer to me, and I sensed that he was dis­appointed in my response. I craned my neck to look at him, but his attention was locked on the crystal closed inside my fist. I took a deep breath and tried again. "It's clear. It's heavy, for its size."

  "Very good," David said, and I could tell from his tone that he meant it. "How does it feel?"

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to concentrate. After all, the spells had worked, even if I had first thought that their singsong rhymes were absurd. "It doesn't have a feeling," I said after a long pause. "It doesn't have an emotion of its own. Instead, it's like a magnifying glass. It makes other things more intense." The more words that I strung together, the more confident I became. "Yes! That's it! It enhances other feelings. It's making me more sure of myself right now!

  "Precisely." I had not realized that my eyes were closed until David spoke. I popped them open to find that he was smiling at me. "That's clear quartz in your hand. An excel­lent specimen of it, too. It's an amplifier, a strengthener of your existing thoughts. Try this one."

  He dug around in the box again, extracting a rounded stone. He took the clear quartz from me and filled my palm with the new specimen. This one was pink, with black stripes arcing through it. It was completely smooth, as if it had spent years in a rock tumbler.

  I folded my fingers around it and closed my eyes. This one had a definite... flavor. A power. It was soft. Gentle. It made me think of Gran. Of Gran tucking me into bed at night when I was a little girl. I remembered something that Clara had said at the museum that morning—it already seemed so long ago! The pink crystal there meant family.

  "Love?" I said, trying to distill the sensations into a single word.

  "Yes," David said, and he pitched his voice low, as if he were reluctant to disturb the balance I was building with the stone. "It's called rhodosite. It eases stress. Heart­ache."

  My eyes snapped open. Exactly what did he know about my heart? Just how much did he know about me?

  If he was surprised by my reaction, he gave no sign. Instead, he dug around in the box again. This time, the rock that he gave me was a translucent dark green. I thought that it might be jade, except it didn't have any milky quality. When I peered closer, I saw a sheen across its surface, as if it had been dusted with the finest glitter imaginable.

  I folded my fingers around it and reached out for its meaning. The stone felt...positive. Beneficent. I smiled as the word unfolded in my mind. This stone was designed to do good. It was designed to bring about positive changes. I took a deep breath and tried to extend my powers further around it. It thrummed. Like the energy I had harnessed through the spell books, the crystal vibrated. The power moved up my arm, and it settled in my chest. In my heart. My lungs.

  I breathed as deeply as I could, thinking fleetingly that my yoga teacher would be proud of me. As I exhaled, the crystal's warmth stayed behind. It made my torso glow.

  I was vaguely aware of Neko leaning against me. I re­membered his steady force, his focusing of my witchy power, so unlike his manic fashion and makeup advice. Without opening my eyes, I reached out for his magical an­choring. I felt it in the air between us, a path into the heart of the stone. I gathered together the energy inside me, and I plunged deep into the green crystal.

  Then I realized how the stone could help Gran. It could hold all of the energy I felt. It could relay power to her heart, to her lungs, to her weary, ailing body.

  All it took was my recognizing the possibility, and then I was siphoning off healing power from myself, pouring it into the crystal. I streamed in all the warmth, the comfort, the vibrating strength that had coalesced in my own body. The green rock drank it up; the shimmering glitter became energized with my thoughts. The crystal was a battery, a bank; it stored all the power I could give it.

  "That's enough," David whispered, and his words startled me back to consciousness.

  I hadn't been dreaming, precisely. I hadn't fallen asleep. No. I'd been meditating. I'd been harnessing the power of my mind over my body, as if I were mastering my yoga in­structor's Corpse Pose.

  I opened my eyes and stared at the crystal on my palm. "What is it called?"

  "Aventurine. It's a quartz, as well. But one that focuses healing." David reached into the wooden box and pulled out a velvet drawstring sack. "Here."

  I was exhausted. I had no idea what he expected me to do with the sack. Neko finally took my hand and tilted it gently so that the stone rolled into the bag. As my familiar tightened the silk ribbons, David nodded. Neko tucked the sack into a pocket that rested over his right breast.

  "You can give it to your grandmother tomorrow."

  "No." I tried to protest, but I could barely manage a whisper. "She's sick. She needs this tonight. I'm family. They'll let me in."

  "It's practically morning, anyway, and she has Western medicine for now. The IV they put her on is doing more than even this crystal can. When you give it to her tomorrow, it can start the long work of healing, of strength­ening."

  I shook my head and tried to get to my feet. I only suc­ceeded on the third try.

  I was as weak as a kitten. I felt as if I'd run a marathon. As if I were a single pat of butter spread over an entire baguette.

  A baguette. Melissa should bake baguettes for Cake Walk. She could call herself a bag lady.

  I giggled at my own joke. I felt drunk, as if I'd downed an entire pitcher of mojitos without benefit of any food.

  Come to think of it, a mojito would be good about now. "Neko!" I said. "Mix some drinks! The magic wand is in the drawer!"

  Neko looked disconcerted, but David only pursed his lips. "Come on, Jane. It's time for you to get some sleep. Let's get you ready for bed."

  I took a step and started to stumble. I covered really well, though, by catching myself on the sofa. I folded my hands in front of me, trying to project an image of determined innocence. Dorothy Gale bound to confront the Wizard of Oz. When I spoke, however, my voice cracked, and I came off more like Margaret Hamilton, the Wicked Witch of the West. "Is that an invitation, big boy
?"

  I'm pretty sure that Neko snickered, but by the time I swiveled my eyes toward him, he was studying his finger­nails. David shook his head and said, "Just doing my job."

  It took both of them to walk me down the short hallway. My legs didn't want to cooperate—my feet kept dragging against the floor. It was a good thing I still had my bunny slippers; I could have ended up with some terrible splinters otherwise.

  When we got to my bedroom, David took my key and unlocked the door. The three of us started to stumble forward, when I saw the moonlight glint off of Stupid Fish's aquarium. "No!" I said. I flailed around to push a hand against Neko's chest. "You can't come in here!"

  David followed my line of sight, and he turned to look at Neko. My familiar shrugged elaborately, as if it had never crossed his mind to invade the piscine privacy of my bedroom. David said, "I've got her from here."

  Neko's disappointment would have made me laugh, if the room hadn't suddenly started to spin like a Tilt-A-Whirl. Somehow, Neko disappeared. David got me over to my bed. I collapsed backward onto the mattress, closing my eyes as calliope music filled my skull.

  I felt David's hands on my feet, slipping off my precious bunnies. He sat beside me on the bed, and I sensed his fingers untying the knot of my bathrobe around my waist. He eased me into a sitting position and slid the robe from my shoulders. I was vaguely glad that I was wearing my faded men's pajamas—top and bottom.

  Somehow, he got me underneath the covers. My pillow was perfectly centered under my head. The sheets were cool against my bare arms, and the comforter was heavy across my body. "Go to sleep," he said, and he passed his hand over my forehead.

  There must have been something magical about the motion, because I was suddenly unable to open my eyes. "David?"

  "Hmm?"

  "What happened?"

  "You used new powers. I let you go deeper than you should have. I felt the strength of your love for your grand­mother, and that swayed my judgment. Get some sleep. You'll be fine when you wake up."

  "David?"

  "Hmm?"

  "You're different now."

  "Different?"

  "Than the first night. You scared me then."

  For a long time, I thought that he wouldn't answer. I thought that I had fallen asleep, but my brain didn't quite know it. I thought that I was imagining our entire conver­sation. But then he spoke.

  "That first night, I didn't know who you were. I came here as a warder, trying to protect resources that were in danger."

  "And then?" It took all my strength to pull out the two words.

  "I met you. I did some research. I became the warder you wanted me to be—you needed me to be. So that you would listen. And learn."

  There was something wrong about that. Something that didn't quite make sense. I started to put more words to­gether, to ask another question, but David passed his hand over my forehead one more time. "Sleep, Jane. We'll talk more later. Sleep."

  And I did.

  Gran was staring listlessly at the television set when I arrived at the hospital. Her bed had been cranked up so that she was sitting upright. Her pillow, which had probably once been situated to cradle her head, had slipped down her back, making her look cramped and uncomfortable. Oxygen flowed through tubing that nestled under her nose.

  "Good morning, Gran!" I pasted a cheery smile on my face.

  "Hello, dear." She sounded cranky and tired, and if she were a toddler, I would have prescribed a long nap. I was a bit surprised that I wasn't more tired myself, but I had awakened refreshed and recharged, completely energized by my working with the crystals.

  I tried not to let my good mood get burned off by Gran's frown. "How are you today?" I asked, in a voice that might have been appropriate for a grown-up on Sesame Street.

  "I hate it here," Gran said.

  "You'll be home soon," I reassured her.

  "I can't get any sleep because the nurses constantly come in to take my temperature, or adjust my oxygen or read my blood pressure. The man next door was moaning all night, and the woman on the other side of that curtain had her grandchildren visiting until ten o'clock. Grandchildren! In a hospital!"

  I reminded myself that Gran didn't mean me. She was only complaining about someone else's brats. I renewed my smile. "I've brought you a present!"

  Gran seemed about to make another tart observation, but then curiosity got the better of her. Her hazel eyes, so like my own, even if they were bloodshot just now, looked in­quiringly at me.

  I handed Gran a small box. Neko had helped me to find it in the basement. It just about filled my palm, sitting high, with a row of hinges on one wooden edge. It looked ancient and delicate, but solid at the same time, the sort of box that Romeo might have used to give a ring to Juliet.

  "What's this?" Gran asked. "You shouldn't have gone to any trouble. Not for me. Not just because I have a little bug."

  "Open it!" I urged. I wanted to see her reaction. I wanted to see if my crystal would work.

  Still fussing, Gran lifted the box's lid. For just a moment, she didn't know what to make of the contents. I'd nestled the aventurine on a bed of soft velvet. "What's this?" Gran asked again, but now her voice was filled with tetchy curiosity.

  "Just something that I found. Something that I thought you'd like. Maybe you can use it as a worry stone, rubbing it when you feel stressed."

  Gran looked at it dubiously. "Your mother has always been a big one for worry stones." I stored away that inter­esting tidbit of information.

  "Well, Gran, maybe I got more from her than I knew," I said.

  Gran drew in a deep breath, as if she were going to reply, but she only triggered a coughing fit. Like the others, this one shook her entire body, turning her face purple, and clenching her fingers into claws. Helpless, I handed her a Kleenex, but then all I could do was wait. And wait. And wait.

  When over a minute had passed, and she was still hacking painfully, I threw caution to the winds. I snagged the jewel box from Gran's sheets, where she had set it when the spasm began, and I upended it onto her withered palm.

  Her fingers curled around the stone by reflex. Her eyes closed as she sucked in more air. But she stopped coughing.

  She sank back on her pillow, eyes still shut, as she breathed shallowly. Perspiration stood out on her forehead, but I did not want to disturb her by wiping it away.

  "Do you want me to get a nurse, Gran?" I asked, when it seemed certain that she had completely conquered the cough. This time.

  "No, dear. Not right now."

  Surprisingly, Gran's voice sounded stronger than it had when I arrived. She must have heard it, too; her eyes flew open. "No, dear," she said again. "I'm actually feeling a little better."

  I helped her to sit up straighter in bed, and I adjusted her pillow so that she no longer looked like Quasimodo's frailer cousin. When she was settled, she smiled at me, and it was the patient smile I remembered from my childhood. My heart quickened, and I glanced at the aventurine, only to find it still hidden in her fist.

  "There is one thing, dear, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

  "What, Gran? Anything!"

  "I wasn't hungry for dinner last night, but some apple­sauce would be lovely now. Some applesauce, and maybe a hard-boiled egg?"

  "I'll see what I can do," I said, moving toward the door. When I stepped into the hallway, I glanced back and saw that Gran was absentmindedly rubbing the aventurine with her thumb. Color had come back into her lips, and her breathing was easier. I almost skipped down the corridor in search of a healing woman's breakfast.

  "You are totally falling for him!" Melissa's amusement over the telephone line was so extreme that I looked up to see if any of the library patrons could hear her.

  "I am not!" I whispered into the handset.

  "You are. You used to talk about Scott exactly the same way. You were going to wear the such-and-such dress to please him, you were going to see the whatever-it-was movie because you thought he'd like i
t."

  "That's ridiculous! I certainly didn't wear my faded plaid pajamas because I thought David would like them."

  "You know what I mean."

  I did. But Melissa was totally, completely, one hundred percent wrong. Jason Templeton was my Imaginary Boyfriend. I mean, Boyfriend. No longer Imaginary. Jason. The man I had watched for the past nine months. The man I had dreamed of. The man I was going to lunch with in less than an hour. Just to clarify my arguments one more time, I said to Melissa,"I do not have feelings for David Montrose. He's like my boss."

  "And you've never heard of interoffice romance?"

  "He's my mentor," I said priggishly "He has a moral and ethical obligation to show me the way toward being a proper witch.”

  "And he's really, really hot." I could imagine her grinning, leaning against the counter in Cake Walk.

  Well, that's what I got for calling my best friend in the middle of the workday. I should have known that she'd give me a hard time. And I did not need to be traumatized today. It was time for me to leave, to meet Jason for lunch at La Perla. I said, "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer." Melissa only laughed. "I'm hanging up on you now! I'm going back to work!"

  I was laughing, too, by the time I returned the phone to its cradle.

  Sure, David was a viscerally attractive guy. But he was totally off-limits. I mean, it would be one thing if we were peers, if we were walking into the relationship on equal footing, both understanding who we were and how things work.

  But he was light-years ahead of me in the witchcraft de­partment. He understood all of that magic stuff; he knew how to harness powers that I could only imagine. Exhibit A was the healing crystal that he had guided me in making for Gran.

  Besides, a nagging voice whispered at the back of my mind, he had changed himself to be with me. The more I thought about that, the more creeped out I was by the in­formation. I mean, how many times had I changed myself to be with Scott? And had it worked out well?