I said, and I realized that my voice was a dozen shades too bright. I cleared my throat and said, “Thank you for coming.”
Ouch. Wrong word choice.
David didn’t react, though. Instead, he glanced at the rows of books behind me. “Have you thought about the ritual? About what you’re going to do?”
Fine. If he was going to act as if nothing had happened, I could be every bit as blasé.
I nodded, with the aplomb I harnessed every day as a reference librarian. Hardening my voice, I made myself sound like the trained professional I knew I could be. “Yes.” There. I almost kept my voice from quaking. “I’m going to create an anima.”
Neko sucked in his breath, and I took a perverse pleasure in knowing that I’d surprised him. I smiled sweetly and found the strength to go on. “I’ll vivify it tonight and then task it to straighten things up around here. It can use its powers, its focus of my powers, to work through the crystals and the books, to get everything back in order. Each task it completes will build my reservoir of power.”
David’s eyes narrowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. I remembered kissing his throat, and a sudden breathlessness crushed my heart like a ton of featherbeds. Concentrate , I told myself. This is important.
“Have you reviewed the spell?” he asked, and he might have been inquiring if I’d had a chance to check the weather forecast, for all the emotion he loaded into the question.
“Three times,” I said. “At least, my memory of it. I studied it in depth last winter.” And I really had. At the time, I’d still been smarting from my encounter with the Coven. I’d contemplated creating an anima, a creature to do my own arcane bidding, just to prove that I was not magically alone. I’d memorized the spell, but I had not worked it before the laptop crashed. Before the laptop crashed, and my interest in my witchy abilities had faded.
I had winged things often enough when I’d worked with David and Neko, but I couldn’t take that risk this time. I could sense the truth: we were approaching a true transition. Either I saved my powers now, or I lost them forever. The anima working was the strongest spell I knew by heart, the most elaborate working I could accomplish without benefit of the spell books that would fade away at my touch.
I glanced at Neko, wondering how he felt about tonight’s magic. Last year, when I had done battle with the Coven, Neko’s independence was on the line. David had warned me numerous times that I needed to perfect my skills as a witch or the Coven would reject me and take Neko away. Take all of my accoutrements away.
I sighed. As a librarian and a scholar of Elizabethan literature, I understood the meaning of irony. Alanis Morissette and her song aside, I knew it would be ironic if I’d fought the Coven, gained my witchy independence, only to lose Neko and my arcane collection now, through lack of use.
David nodded, accepting my determination as if I’d always been a star pupil. Yeah, sure. “All right, then. Shall we get started?”
And that was it. No great debate. No long discussion. No back and forth about whether I had chosen the correct ritual, the proper symbols, the perfect expression of my magical intentions. Momentarily speechless, I nodded.
David reached inside the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small silver flask. It was the sort of vessel that might hold holy water, if he’d belonged to a different esoteric school. “What’s that?” I asked.
“Rainwater, collected under a full moon.”
Of course. “So you knew, all along, what I was going to try?”
He shrugged. “I knew that you’d likely be calling on the elements for whatever you work. I can take it back, if it bothers you. If you have your own that you want to use.”
“No!” My voice still sounded too shrill to me. I glanced at Neko, only to find that he was staring at me curiously.
Well, everyone knew what curiosity
Ouch. Wrong word choice.
David didn’t react, though. Instead, he glanced at the rows of books behind me. “Have you thought about the ritual? About what you’re going to do?”
Fine. If he was going to act as if nothing had happened, I could be every bit as blasé.
I nodded, with the aplomb I harnessed every day as a reference librarian. Hardening my voice, I made myself sound like the trained professional I knew I could be. “Yes.” There. I almost kept my voice from quaking. “I’m going to create an anima.”
Neko sucked in his breath, and I took a perverse pleasure in knowing that I’d surprised him. I smiled sweetly and found the strength to go on. “I’ll vivify it tonight and then task it to straighten things up around here. It can use its powers, its focus of my powers, to work through the crystals and the books, to get everything back in order. Each task it completes will build my reservoir of power.”
David’s eyes narrowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. I remembered kissing his throat, and a sudden breathlessness crushed my heart like a ton of featherbeds. Concentrate , I told myself. This is important.
“Have you reviewed the spell?” he asked, and he might have been inquiring if I’d had a chance to check the weather forecast, for all the emotion he loaded into the question.
“Three times,” I said. “At least, my memory of it. I studied it in depth last winter.” And I really had. At the time, I’d still been smarting from my encounter with the Coven. I’d contemplated creating an anima, a creature to do my own arcane bidding, just to prove that I was not magically alone. I’d memorized the spell, but I had not worked it before the laptop crashed. Before the laptop crashed, and my interest in my witchy abilities had faded.
I had winged things often enough when I’d worked with David and Neko, but I couldn’t take that risk this time. I could sense the truth: we were approaching a true transition. Either I saved my powers now, or I lost them forever. The anima working was the strongest spell I knew by heart, the most elaborate working I could accomplish without benefit of the spell books that would fade away at my touch.
I glanced at Neko, wondering how he felt about tonight’s magic. Last year, when I had done battle with the Coven, Neko’s independence was on the line. David had warned me numerous times that I needed to perfect my skills as a witch or the Coven would reject me and take Neko away. Take all of my accoutrements away.
I sighed. As a librarian and a scholar of Elizabethan literature, I understood the meaning of irony. Alanis Morissette and her song aside, I knew it would be ironic if I’d fought the Coven, gained my witchy independence, only to lose Neko and my arcane collection now, through lack of use.
David nodded, accepting my determination as if I’d always been a star pupil. Yeah, sure. “All right, then. Shall we get started?”
And that was it. No great debate. No long discussion. No back and forth about whether I had chosen the correct ritual, the proper symbols, the perfect expression of my magical intentions. Momentarily speechless, I nodded.
David reached inside the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small silver flask. It was the sort of vessel that might hold holy water, if he’d belonged to a different esoteric school. “What’s that?” I asked.
“Rainwater, collected under a full moon.”
Of course. “So you knew, all along, what I was going to try?”
He shrugged. “I knew that you’d likely be calling on the elements for whatever you work. I can take it back, if it bothers you. If you have your own that you want to use.”
“No!” My voice still sounded too shrill to me. I glanced at Neko, only to find that he was staring at me curiously.
Well, everyone knew what curiosity
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