“I’ll do my best not to tick off the alchemists before they come.” Red didn’t give a promise. It wasn’t making friends that worried her. She considered herself very friendly—for an amnesiac socialized by a wary drifter in a van. Promises were hard to keep in her world.
“The sea is changing even without your wave. Centuries of witch hunts scattered the mages. It’s time to gather them.” Perenelle opened a laboratory door.
Disappointment rushed over Red when she realized they had finally reached the classroom. She had been so excited for her first class, and now all she wanted was Perenelle to tell her stories.
“Madam—" Trudy sputtered, rising from a table in front of a chalkboard.
“Oh, wow, it’s her!” Hannah twisted in a desk chair to get a better look.
“I beg pardon for interrupting.” Perenelle inclined her head.
“Thanks, Perenelle.” Red waved and came into the room, sitting next to Hannah. She tried to open her bag and pull out her journal as quietly as she could with the women watching her. The lab felt too big for just the three of them. Half the room was empty behind their chairs, besides floor mats and wall counters filled with potted plants illuminated by purple UV light.
“You’re on, like, first name basis with the Immortal Alchemist now?” Frowning skeptically, Hannah propped her chin on her palm.
Trudy cleared her throat, walking around the table. “Since I assume it was important, I’ll forgive the tardiness then.”
Red winced, lowering her head. “It wasn’t. I got lost. She helped me.”
“We are past it.” Trudy raised her chin, arms folded over her white blouse under her corduroy jacket. “As I explained to Hannah, we will be reviewing fundamentals. After her showing in the last laboratory, it is merited.”
“I saw the hole. I’m impressed,” Red said. “You must have had two blessed muffins that day.”
Hannah flushed, mouth twisting. “Gee, thanks.”
Red wanted to groan in frustration at the sensitive teen. She hadn’t meant it sarcastically. Maybe she was wrong about her social skills. She struggled to even remember the last time she’d interacted with a teenager beyond a case. She certainly didn’t remember being one.
“The hardest skill to learn is not conjuring illusions, channeling fire, or ensnaring a demon. Its mastering yourself,” Trudy said, drawing their attention to the outline of a figure on the chalkboard, precise handwriting labeled parts of the mystical form like the aura. “This used to be easier back when I was younger. Honing your focus is more important than ever in this pell-mell world.”
Red inched forward in her chair, waiting for the next word with her pen ready.
Sighing, Trudy held out her hand. “Especially if we are checking our phones in the middle of a lesson, Miss Proctor.”
Hannah tossed her phone over. She crossed her arms, looking away.
Trudy caught the device one handed and deposited it on the table. She rested her arms behind her back. “Every practitioner of magic, from any tradition, must clear their mind to allow room for pure intent—from hedge witches crafting folk magic with superstition to warlocks without their own power harnessing bought relics. You could design a picture-perfect ritual and still fail unless your focus and spirit are aligned with the goal.” She paused. A small smile tugged at her lips as she analyzed Hannah. “Now, let’s see if you know how to breathe.”
Red stopped writing notes, lifting her head.
Hannah grumbled. “I’m already doing it.”
“I’ll determine that.” Trudy set a candle on the table and lit it with a match that released lavender-scented smoke. Circling behind the chairs, she guided them in meditation and breathing, instructing them to focus on the candle flame. “Uncloak your chakras so I can sense your concentration level.”
Red settled into the lesson, planting her feet firmly on the ground, and relished the mandate to not think. She had kept up a daily habit of at least ten minutes of what she told Vic was her “shut the hell up” time, but when the shit hit the fan, it felt indulgent to simply be. The sound of Trudy’s scratching pen in her notepad and Hannah rustling beside her faded into the background.
Trudy interrupted the glorious silence. “We are going to attempt to connect with our magic.”
Red raised her hand. “Um, I am still in recovery mode, emotionally and magically, so consider that in your notes.”
“Emotions are a distraction to a mage.”
Biting the inside of her cheek, Red tried to stop herself from disagreeing. She told herself to be a good student. The words popped out anyway. Time to settle for being good enough. “My emotions fueled any of my spells that were worth a damn.”
“And it was unpredictable, I suspect. True mastery doesn’t require a bolt of external stimulation.” Trudy bent over to retrieve a pyramid from a box on a counter. It looked like a fancy paperweight, clear resin-coated bands of different colored smoothed crystals. She passed it to her. “Your magic is restoring nicely, but you can cultivate it with this. You’ll recognize amethyst and smoky quartz for spiritual healing, but there is also lapis lazuli and iridescent labradorite. Now, you’ll begin with belly breathing…”
Hannah glared at her captured phone on the desk, fidgeting as the lesson tangent continued on crystal vibrations to stimulate magic regeneration.
Trudy shushed Hannah. “You’ll get your phone back after class.”
“I think I feel something!” Red gawked at her chakras shining, the distinct patterns and shapes in the brilliant-colored lights clearer than ever.
“Now, prime your focus and magic with a visual. Think of something that makes you feel strong and full of mystical potential. You don’t need to tell me, but visualize it. When you want to draw on your own power, you can tug at it like a dog on a leash, but it will fight you the whole way. Work with it. Show it what you can be together.”
Red searched her memories for that power moment. Flicking through the memories like a slideshow, she discarded the summer night she’d staked Cowboy Kurt with a wooden spoon. That was sleazier and more terrifying than empowering. She’d conjured fire somehow and melted the bullets from Michel de Grammont’s rebels on Halloween. That was cool, but she still didn’t know how she broke the laws of physics to do it. Then there was the winter solstice.
She had spent most of her time in the Dreamland running from Maxwell Baldacci and his henchwoman Nevaeh, but she sent him to hell. Magic and intention were amplified in the Dreamland, so she couldn’t do a fraction of that in reality, but she’d sent the warlock to hell. Her exorcism had released spectral hellhounds to drag him below. That was power she’d earned. That was something she did.
Trudy snapped her fingers. “I saw your root chakra flash. Excellent. Whatever it is, keep drawing on that memory.”
Hannah sighed. “I’m happy for her breakthrough, but can I do something more advanced here? My mom taught me this in kindergarten.”
Red’s eyelids flipped open. Her inner peace faded as self-consciousness drifted in. She had told Vic she would end up the slow kid in class. “I get it. I’m slowing you down.”
Trudy lifted her hand for silence from Red and loomed over Hannah’s desk. “Not everyone had the privilege of growing up in mage household, Miss Proctor. Blamelessly, your classmate has had a checkered education. She needs to be grounded in the basics.”
“She can just hang out with Perenelle then,” Hannah said the alchemist’s name snidely, making a simpering face. “I’m sure they can Merlin it up over coffee. You’re my Bard, not hers. No offense, Red, but I need to be ready for whatever my mysterious destiny is supposed to be.”
Red felt a fight brewing with her in the middle. She wasn’t here for drama. The lesson was sinking in, as opposed to all the hundreds of times she had tried learning in a van rocking down a highway. She had fallen into a deeper meditation than she had ever attempted on her own. Red tried to smooth over the conversation. “She’s right. Let’s pick up the pace. I can lear
n on my feet.”
Eyebrows arched, Trudy placed the box from the counter onto the table. “Well, Hannah, since you want us to proceed. Demonstrate your mastery over focus with one of the classics. I have everything you need to craft a simple scrying spell. Use the pendulum to find a location. Red will have read about these by now. Show her how it is done.”
Hannah walked to the table, a determined set to her chin. She unfurled a large map of the United States, arranged multicolored rocks and gems in a circle, and twirled a copper teardrop pendulum on its chain.
Trudy removed her glasses, letting them dangle over her chest as her arm crossed over her waist. She lifted a lazy hand, the fingers flicking out. “The Proctor house.”
Hannah glared with the force that only a teenager could. Biting her lip, she bent her head and lowered the pendulum over the Midwest. The copper teardrop began to spin.
Red bent forward in her seat to see the spell better. She slipped on her spirit gaze. The energy built up around Hannah. Sparks traveled from her hand to the pendulum.
“Imagine pushing open the front door and walking inside. What do you see… or who?” Trudy asked, even toned as she drew closer to the girl.
The pendulum flailed wildly.
“I see the light show that is your aura and chakras right now. Concentrate on the location, not your feelings,” Trudy ordered. “This is the first step to learning more complicated location spells.”
Hannah threw down the pendulum, arms shaking. “I should be learning something I can use in the field. You know, considering that werewolves want to kill me! Maybe I should be training with Vic instead. Me and Red can do a Bard swap.”
Trudy’s shoulders stiffened. She breathed deep through her nose as she smoothed down her corduroy suit. “Mr. Constantine could teach you much. I will concede that to my colleague. But even he would agree that scrying is important. Wouldn’t a scrying spell have helped you in your previous cases, Red?”
Red crossed her arms, considering how many past enemies had the capability to mystically cloak themselves or buy a mage’s services. “The smaller jobs, at least. You don’t always have a clear suspect to focus on, but it would be better than trying to find a place based on a torn matchbook.”
Hannah scowled. “You’re taking her side?”
“Whoa, I don—" Red put her palm up.
“Try again, Hannah,” Trudy said. “You learned this in kindergarten, remember.”
“Whatever. Let her do it.” Hannah tossed the map and the crystals back into the box.
“Sit down.” Trudy had perfected the sharp snap of a general. “Meditate before you make any rash decisions.”
Hannah slunk to her chair.
“Your turn.” Trudy gestured to Red. The Bard lectured on the technique of allowing the pendulum to feel its way on the map instead of forcing it. “The pendulum is an extension of your intention. Don’t let your emotions cloud you.” She adjusted her glasses, gaze askance at her other sulking pupil. “You’ll have to reassemble it.”
Red reached into the box for the heap of crystals, identifying only maybe five types, to recreate the circle. She smoothed out the corner of the map as she waited for more instruction.
“Find yourself.”
“Just a second.” Red bit her lip. On impulse, she rearranged the circle into a triangle lapis lazuli and rough selenite. Visualizing her victory over Maxwell, a thread of magic jumped into her hand like an eager puppy to be channeled into the crystals.
She raised the pendulum over Nevada and tried to concentrate. The pendulum jerked to the east toward the Atlantic Ocean before curling around to the west coast. She tried to wrangle it like a sheep dog after a wayward flock. It only kept wilding out as she focused harder on locating herself on the map.
“I think the problem is I don’t know where we are, physically in space and time, since this part of the academy definitely isn’t in Nevada.”
Trudy chuckled and crossed her arms. “Point, but I think your pendulum went in the right direction even if we wouldn’t get the location out of the Synod. Why construct a triangle instead of a circle?”
“Dunno. I thought I’d try it.” Red shrugged, wishing she knew the lingo better so she could whip a smarter-sounding answer out of her butt. “There was a big section on crystal grids in the reading. Downturned triangles are better for feminine energy. Its why I switched it when you told me to look for myself.”
Trudy made a note of it her pad. “Interesting improv. Tell me a place you know, then find it. I’ll cross reference it.”
“Quinn Investigations,” Red said quietly, imagining opening the door to the front room with its squishy sagging couch, the smell of Indian food from the restaurant next door, and the front desk by the wide window. Lucas would sit there with his feet up until Quinn fussed at him to take them down. The cases changed, and the takeout bounced between curry or lo mein, but that office remained the same. The pendulum dropped on part of the map that she hoped was Culver City.
“Google says it’s a notary’s office, but you found it.”
Hannah slumped over the desk in that nearly boneless fashion that only teenagers and cats could pull off. “I can scry, you know. I’ve been doing it since my witch bloom.”
Red remembered where she had heard that word before. “Perenelle mentioned—"
“Perenelle again…” Hannah groused.
Red ignored it, telling herself to nice to the orphan. Trudy had just asked her to scry for her childhood home. This sudden brattiness was annoying, but Red had a feeling it came from a place of fear and loss. She steered the conversation away. “What’s a witch bloom?”
“It’s that very special time in a witch girl’s life when she becomes a witch woman,” Hannah snarked.
“You may recall a time as a teen when your powers matured. Some mages report fantastic outbursts of magic while others are just a little more moody.”
“Like she would even kn—" Huddled over her desktop, Hannah spun her golden poker chip key on its edge. She glanced up at Red, stopping the spin with her palm. “Never mind.”
Red rubbed the back of her neck, thankful that Hannah had kept her secret. She forced out a chuckle. “High school is a blur. So, what is next?”
“Let’s go back to our breathing exercises.”
“Ughhh, I need to learn to fight, not meditate! You know what’s out there waiting for me.” Hannah stood up, hands on hips. “I’m marked for destiny, remember?”
“You’re marked for death, and this school is a respite you may not know again, Miss Proctor. Use this time wisely.” Trudy wagged a stern finger. “You can’t cultivate inner calm on a battlefield until you can do it in a classroom.”
“This is a bunch of wax-on, wax-off Karate Kid bullshit that I don’t need.” Hannah grabbed her backpack, running from the room.
Red turned to go after her. She didn’t want the girl fleeing the academy again. Or causing another explosion.
“I’ll go. She’ll talk to me because I have this.” Ruefully smiling, Trudy picked up the phone, waving it.
Hands planting on her hips, Red followed the Bard to the door. “I think she’s more freaked out about the werewolves than she’s telling us. The feud that killed off her folks started with a pack back home. Maybe go easy on the death stuff. It’s almost the full moon.”
“Every Hero is marked for death.” Trudy patted the doorframe, stilling her quick clip out the door. The outside light hit her glasses, the glare obscuring her eyes. “It’s what they’re chosen for. I would know.”
Red rubbed the goosebumps rising on her arms at that eerie ass remark. And she thought Vic could be blunt… Resting her butt on her desk chair, she puffed out a heavy breath, drama fizzling the serenity she had honed through meditation. The day had packed more magic instruction in a few hours than she had experienced in her life. She hadn’t used much magic, but she felt more connected to it.
The screen came to life on her phone. It was the Circe Casino. She an
swered, hands shaking.
“We have a package for you, ma’am. From Smith and Reaper. Would you like to pick it up at the front desk?”
Red’s heart stopped. She coughed and choked back the sob that tried to escape. Mashing her words and sniffling loudly, she rattled off Vic’s room number and had it sent there. Then she grabbed the box from the table and threw the scrying supplies in there. Hustling out the door, she dialed and tucked the phone between her neck and shoulder.
“Vic, you better be dressed and ready to open your door!”
Chapter Six
Red bounced on the white duvet from the force of her jiggling knees, unable to keep still on the squishy bed. She had beat the package to Vic’s room in the casino side of the alchemist stronghold. The hotel tower was certainly in Las Vegas, judging by her view of the Bellagio casino from his window. And so was her inheritance. Finally. She had waited months. Now she just had to wait for a bellhop.
“Chill out, dude.” Vic pulled a beer out of the mini fridge under the muted TV.
Red stood and paced. “I can’t chill out. I don’t know what’s in this box. Ever since Smith and Reaper told me I had an unexplained multi-million-dollar trust fund, I’ve wondered where it came from. They don’t even know. The account has a fake name, and you tried to trace the money. Nothing. It could be fae gold that some ancestor suckered a bank into taking, decades ago.”
A knock on the door made her jump. She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “The only thing that’s real is this package.”
Answering the door, Vic came back with a breadbox-sized parcel, holding it away from him like a bomb, and sat it on the bed. Pulling a pocketknife off his belt, he cut a slit in the tape with the precision of a bomb specialist cutting denotation wires. “It’s not that big.”
Red hovered over his shoulder. Her throat was too tight to speak. She revved up her spirit gaze. There were no sigils or strange energy traces on the cardboard box.
“Were you supposed to get just one?” Vic opened it, pulling out the top layer of plastic bubble wrap.
“The inventory list was lost with just a mention of a…” Red looked inside, reaching in for a thick journal. The leather was flaked from age. Her heart raced. She hadn’t expected a book. This could have all the answers. She set it aside tenderly on the bed, knowing there was more. Anticipation made her hands shake. She peeled back the bubble wrap over another smaller velvet box. A silver chain necklace lay inside. She stroked the old metal, finger pads finding the miniature carvings on the links. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”
Witch On The Run: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 4) Page 10