His Dark Magic

by Pat Esden

  The sad tone in Em’s voice went right to Chloe’s heart, but a suspicion nipped at the back of her mind. The other day, Athena had compared their childhoods as well. That seemed a little odd, especially since she couldn’t see how this comparison jived with what she knew about Athena and Devlin’s childhoods. Still, she guessed it made sense. What reason would Athena have to lie about something like that? She gave a sympathetic nod. “I’m sorry you had it so rough.”

  Tears glistened in Em’s eyes. “My aunt and mother…they started dragging me from town to town when I was eight, maybe nine years old. Violet Grace, the World’s Youngest Psychic Medium—that’s who I was.”

  “You’re kidding me? You worked at fairs when you were that young?” She’d seen TV shows about young girls being taken on beauty pageant circuits, movies stars, athletes, but not child psychics.

  “It wasn’t a carny kind of thing. My aunt liked to think she was highbrow. They put on shows in conference centers, Las Vegas, Atlanta—” She pressed her knuckles over her eyes as if forcing back the memory.

  Chloe rested her hand on Em’s forearm. “If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m a good listener.”

  Em lowered her knuckles, her lips curving into a trembling smile. “Thank you. Same goes if you need a friend.”

  Once they got back to the house, Em stayed in the living room with Jessica and Chandler to get the mat and supplies situated, while Chloe headed for the kitchen to tell Athena they were back.

  Athena beamed when she saw Chloe. “Perfect timing.” She set a squatty loaf of dark bread on a wooden tray, the sleeve of her robe fluttering lightly. “I’ll get the juice and we’ll be ready to go.”

  As she opened the refrigerator door, the question Chloe had planned on keeping to herself came flooding out. “Em told me you ran away when you were a kid?”

  Athena swung around, a carafe of dark purple juice held white-knuckled in her hand. “We each have our own stories, Chloe. None of us with magic have had normal childhoods.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried. I was just surprised.”

  “What I said to Em was that my parents used me, like her family used her. Most of it is Devlin’s, not my, story to tell. Our parents were so wrapped up in the Circle, and their parties and cheating, that I ended up having to be a parent to him.”

  “But you’re not much older than him.”

  “That’s right. What’s important now is that you and I and everyone else support Em. The more she feels welcome and accepted by all of us, the better the chance of her becoming strong and whole. The damage done to her runs deep.”

  A thick sense of shame weighed in Chloe’s chest. She should have kept her mouth shut, instead of making assumptions about other people’s pasts. She rubbed her fingers overs her bracelet, every charm a gift from someone who had raised her with love. “I never realized how lucky I was to have my parents.” She swallowed hard. “I was the one who screwed things up for them.”

  Athena nodded. “Now you have a chance to make everything right, and I’m proud to be able to give that to you.” She set the carafe of juice on the counter, took Chloe by the upper arms, and looked her square in the eyes. “That is what you want?”

  “Yes,” she said meekly. “More than anything.”

  Athena released her arms. Her voice hushed. “Chloe, I’m going to ask if I can use your magic tonight, not like Em’s parents did to her. But as your witch-sister and high priestess. As Merlin may ask of us all once he returns.”

  “What do you need?” she asked, breathless.

  “After we complete a ritual connected to the awakening, I want to do a healing spell for Em. It will require a great deal of energy from all of us.” She glanced at the bread and juice as if considering her plans and whether to go into more detail or not. “When I was in Wales, we managed to communicate with Merlin. He led us not only to the crystal, but to an ancient grimoire that contained one of his spells. Old magic. A forgotten technique to heal a wounded psyche. I’d like to try it on Em. Will you help?”

  Healing psyches. It wasn’t the same as reversing damage done to a brain, but it was part of the answer. “Of course.” Chloe humbled her tone. “I really am sorry about bringing up what you told Em. That was between the two of you. I should have trusted you without asking.”

  “I understand. You were curious. But what I don’t understand is why you started to make excuses earlier when I texted to ask you to come help.”

  Chloe’s face heated. “Um—I.”

  “We need to get one thing straight.” Athena’s voice toughened. “Your college studies are important. But nothing can take priority over the Northern Circle. After tonight, everyone will be needed, every night until the new moon when the main ritual will happen. Even personal relationships must be put on hold, understand?”

  “This new moon? That’s Saturday. I—” She started to say she couldn’t believe they’d be awakening Merlin so soon, but Athena silenced her with a raised finger.

  “I’m counting on you—the entire coven is. If you have an issue, this is the time to bring it up. Not later.”

  “Ah—there isn’t anything. I’m ahead at school.” Slightly panicked, Chloe breezed through her mental checklist again to make sure. There was only one problem that she could think of. Though it seemed like something she could avoid until Saturday, she didn’t want to hold anything back. “There’s a woman in my apartment house who’s Wiccan. She knows about the Circle and wants to meet you. Not that I think she should join, quite the opposite. I know this is the wrong time, but she’s driving me nuts.”

  Athena laughed. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Her interest is natural, something that should be encouraged to a degree. Perhaps you can”—she waved her hand over the carafe as if putting a spell on the contents—“invite her to visit us, then make sure she isn’t feeling well enough to come. As you said, this isn’t the time to deal with her.”

  Chloe blinked at Athena. “That’s a great idea. You’re not kidding, right?” It sure wasn’t a suggestion she expected to hear from a high priestess.

  “Do what you need to.” Athena wrapped an arm around her shoulder, cradling her in warmth. “Think about it, Chloe. In less than a week, you and I will be students of Merlin—one of the greatest wizards of all time. Did you ever dream such a thing would be possible?”

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, savoring the possibilities that lay ahead. “No. Not in a million years—certainly not this soon.”

  * * * *

  Chloe carried the bread out to the living room, while Athena took charge of the carafe. The room was darker now, lit only by the flicker of candlelight. The smell of applewood smoke permeated the air.

  Near the staircase, Jessica and Em had stripped down to their bras and panties and were putting on plum-colored robes that matched the ones Athena and Chandler wore. The whole atmosphere felt warm and relaxed. Chloe supposed it was like a slumber party, something she’d missed out on as a kid.

  She followed Athena to where the round mat had been laid out on the floor. They set the bread and carafe in the middle of it where the crystals had already been arranged.

  “Here you go,” Chandler said, handing Chloe a robe.

  Chloe got undressed and slipped on her robe, then she set her clothes on a side table with everyone else’s. She was about to head to the mat where Em and Jessica were settling down to form the beginning of a ritual circle when she caught a few words of hushed conversation coming from the lounge.

  “I’m not comfortable with this,” Chandler whispered. “Unleavened bread. Unfermented juice.”

  “Have I ever misled you?” Athena asked.

  “No. I owe you everything. But necromancy?”

  Chloe’s eyes widened. Necromancy? She pressed her fingers against her lips, smothering a gasp. But now that she thought about it, she sh
ould have realized it herself. Dark unleavened bread, unfermented wine—also known as grape juice—were traditionally referred to as lifeless foods.

  Pretending to be busy rolling up her sleeves, she edged closer to the lounge.

  “The old ways are darker than what we’re accustomed to. But because we walk the razor’s edge to free Merlin, it does not mean the path is wrong.”

  Though she was only listening, Chloe caught herself nodding in agreement. It didn’t take a college-level Folklore class to know the early tales about the Craft were darker, harsher, and more powerful than what was practiced nowadays. Plus, symbolic use of death—whether it was unleavened bread, blood smeared on a stone, or parts of a dead bird—were a long way from true evil.

  “You’re right,” Chandler said. “It’s just—”

  “Frightening? An unfamiliar path most often is.”

  As they stopped talking, Chloe quit fiddling with her sleeve, made a beeline for the mat, and sat down next to Em. A second later, Athena and Chandler appeared.

  Athena placed the cloth-covered tray she was carrying down next to the bread and carafe. As she did, Chloe’s stomach growled loudly. Everyone glanced her way.

  She grimaced. “I should have had a snack before I came. I was expecting dinner.”

  “And we shall feast,” Athena said. “But this ritual isn’t about consumption for bodily needs. It’s about preparing ourselves for the next leg of the journey we have embarked on, the journey to awaken Merlin who now treads in darkness, but will culminate on the new moon, as waning turns to waxing, the time for awakening and opening doorways.”

  She removed the cloth from the tray, revealing a low earthenware bowl. The bowl was a size that might normally have been used for cereal, but this one contained Merlin’s crystal and a mix of crushed fresh herbs. She took the crystal from the bowl, set it at the very center of the mat, then poured juice from the carafe into the bowl of herbs.

  Raising the bowl skyward, Athena chanted in a low monotone. The sound reverberated in the room, energy soaring and swirling in the air. The power of it tingled against Chloe’s skin, exciting her senses and sending adrenaline rushing into her veins.

  Athena lowered the bowl and brought it with her as she scooted backwards to sit between Chloe and Chandler at the edge of the circle. After another short incantation, she raised the bowl up, then lowered to her lips and took a sip. As she passed the bowl to Chandler, puffs of rosemary-scented mist wafted from it. The strangeness and power of the ritual tightened a knot of fear in Chloe’s chest, especially since Athena had passed the bowl counterclockwise, against the natural flow. But it thrilled her as well. Merlin. Magic and medicine. They’d soon be learning so many new things. She smiled to herself. That was silly. They were already doing things she’d never experienced. Performing the ritual counterclockwise also made sense. This was a first step toward undoing the spell that had imprisoned Merlin.

  The bowl made its way around the circle, from Chandler to Jessica. Chloe started to worry that the bowl might be empty by the time it got to her. It wasn’t very deep. But a small puddle remained when Em passed it to her.

  Chloe raised the bowl as everyone else had done, then used her lips to strain the juice from the herbs and took a sip. The bitter tang of the herbs and unsweetened juice bristled on her tongue. Her mouth puckered. She started to hand the bowl to Athena, but her fingertips scraped across a rough ridge that spanned the bowl’s bottom. An odd blemish for an otherwise smooth piece of earthenware. Curious, she took a closer look at the bowl.

  “Skull!” The word leapt from her mouth, breaking the solemnness of the ritual. Not pottery or just any skull, a human skull, or the dome of one.

  Athena snatched the bowl from her fingers. “It’s a summoner’s bowl,” she said reverently.

  Heat flushed Chloe’s cheeks. “I’m sorry I reacted that way. I just—I’ve seen stoneware versions of them, but never the real thing. How old is it?”

  “It’s belonged to the Circle since the time of our origin, back when we worshiped in oak groves under the guidance of the Fair Folk. It’s one of the few objects the High Council didn’t confiscate.”

  Awe overcame her embarrassment and her gaze scanned the bowl, studying it intently. “I’m glad the Council didn’t take it. It’s amazing, really.”

  “We are blessed to have it.” Athena set the bowl back in the center of the circle and took out the loaf of black bread. She broke off a piece, ate it, then passed the loaf to Chandler.

  As the bread made its way around the circle, the solemnness returned. Chloe snuck a look at Athena. Her hands peacefully rested on her knees, palms up while she waited for everyone to take their turn. Back straight. Neck taut, perfectly enhanced by the dark line of the choker. Chloe’s parents and aunts were highly knowledgeable and skilled at the Craft, as were all the High Council members she’d known. But they were wrong in assuming someone as young as Athena couldn’t comport themselves with the maturity and dignity of an elder high priest or priestess. She deserved her title and to oversee a coven, as much as any of the older generation did.

  Not long after that, Athena brought the ritual to an end with a clap of her hands. “Now”—she removed the carafe from the center of the circle and set it on the floor behind her— “we are going to attempt a spell that belonged to Merlin himself, the first spark of the greater goods we will accomplish once we are under his tutelage.” She took Merlin’s crystal from the center of the circle and cupped it in both hands. “Our witch-sister Emily’s spirit and energy are hampered by hardships her psyche has endured. Together we can heal that wound.” She gestured at the remaining crystals. “If each of you will take the first one that calls to you.”

  Excitement jittered inside Chloe, so strong that her hands trembled. Merlin’s magic. A spell he’d done himself. A healing spell. Psyche spell. Not that far from the sort of spell she’d dreamed of finding.

  She scrunched forward, fingers outspread, and closed her eyes. She slowly circled her hand overtop the stones until a gentle tingle feathered up her fingers. Without looking she snatched the stone and sat back, only then opening her clenched fingers to look. Clear quartz crystal, smooth except for one rough side.

  Once everyone had selected their stone, Em took off her robe and laid down in the center of the circle with her blue crystal clasped against her stomach. Then Athena held out the crystal in front of her and began to chant. Chloe couldn’t understand the words, but they hummed in her ears like a choir of voices. Chandler and Jessica held out their stones and joined in. Suddenly Chloe felt the words rise from the well of her magic. She held out her crystal, her entire body shaking as the words soared from her mouth.

  The energies flowed from one person’s crystal to the next, around the circle clockwise, spinning faster and faster, mixing everyone’s magic and the power of the different crystals into one explosive circle of color. Dizziness whirled in Chloe’s head. Power crackled through her hands. She took a deep breath and pushed as much magic as she could into the stone.

  Slowly, without breaking the energy’s flow, Athena rose to her feet. Her movement tugged Chloe and everyone up, as if they were all mirror images of Athena. The power spun in front of them, a multicolored ring of magic, shooting from crystal to crystal, through the staff crystal and around again.

  Athena moved forward until she was close to Em. As she knelt and laid her crystal on the mat, Chloe and everyone else did the same, the colored ring now an egg-shaped halo of magic racing around Em’s body.

  “Air. Fire. Water. Earth,” Athena called, looking skyward. “I call on you. Gods. Goddesses. Gatekeepers. Take the wound from our sister. Release her from the past. Free her. Restore her. Bless her.”

  In an explosion of colors, the racing halo shifted direction, flooding inward toward the blue crystal Em was holding. It streamed downward into her body. Em’s torso humped upwards, thrashing and twisti
ng. Gray fog steamed out from her pores, clouding the room.

  Chloe clamped her hands over her ears as the air pressure in the room rose, singing higher and higher. Just when she thought she couldn’t it take anymore, the pressure subsided.

  Jessica and Chandler leapt to their feet, grabbing bundles of apple twigs and sage, lighting them and fanning the air.

  Athena ran to the garden door and flung it open. “Out! Out! I command you.”

  Before Chloe could even gather her wits, the gray fog cycloned out the door and the energy drained from the air. She turned to check on Em.

  Em sat cross-legged on the mat, her head in her hands, swaying like a child on a swing. She looked up, eyes bright. A smile spread across her face. “I feel lighter…free.”

  Chloe scooted to Em and pulled her into a hug. Everyone joined in, a giant group hug. Joyous. Uniting. Amazing.

  Chapter 17

  Pink bow in her hair. Little white shoes on her feet. The child warned me about my husband. The spirits see his soul. Dangerous. Violent. The girl needs to get a better shtick, he said. But her words were true.

  —Anonymous, one month after a reading by Violet Grace, age 8-1/2

  After Em’s healing, Athena ordered the pizzas. Chloe settled onto the couch, her knees pulled to her chest, her toes burrowing into the cushions as she sipped a glass of burgundy and listened to Jessica tell another story about their trip to Wales, about hiking paths once taken by Merlin. When she got to a part about spending a weekend at Gladstone’s Library, Chandler took over.

  “That’s when I got this,” she said, pulling down the neck of her robe to reveal a watercolor tattoo of a Welsh dragon rising out of an open book. “Obviously not at the library. But the artist’s shop was close by.”

  Em got up from her seat to take a closer look. “That’s gorgeous.”

  Deep happiness unfolded in Chloe’s chest, a surreal feeling of being in a moment that she knew she would remember forever. It was the kind of moment she’d expected to find at the university with her classmates and professors, even with her neighbors in the apartment house. But here it was, even better than she’d dreamed, because these women got her, really got all of her, both the witch and the woman. It was a powerful moment, like the night when she’d lain on the bench outside Devlin’s door, looking up at the stars.