had done to the cat. I made a silent vow that he would learn the full meaning of that adage if he tried to question me directly.
I reached out for the flask, automatically twisting my fingers to avoid touching David’s. That motion made my wrist bend at a strange angle; he rotated his own grasp on the flask to keep it from falling. Like an awkward fool dancing sideways to pass someone in a narrow hallway, I contorted my own fingers, only to end up grasping his with full force.
I sucked in my breath, as if I expected an electric charge to pass between us, but there was nothing. No residual glimmer of magic. No lingering sparkle of my contraceptive spell. No hint that anything had happened the afternoon before.
My belly twisted and, for just a moment, I thought I might be ill.
“Ready?” David asked, and his voice was calm and smooth, the steady baritone that had always anchored my magical workings.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, beyond caring if Neko suspected anything. “Ready,” I said.
I set the flask of water on the high bookstand that occupied the center of the basement. A burlap sack sat in the center of the mahogany surface, the same sack that I had explored a week and a half before, with Melissa obliviously drinking mojitos in my kitchen. I tried not to think about the clay runes that I had enjoyed using, the smooth tiles that had clicked in my fingers as I shuffled through their smooth, glazed surfaces.
Dust, now. Nothing but dust.
I shook my head. “Let’s go,” I said to David.
He eyed me for a long moment, and I wondered what he was thinking. Was he questioning my witchy ability? Was he wondering about our little diversion the day before? Was he doubting my dedication to my arcane arts?
I’d never know.
Without a spoken word, he ducked down. It took me a moment to figure out why he made the graceful motion, but when he stood, he clutched a silver dagger. I glanced at his ankle, unable to make out any sort of hidden sheath. Not for the first time, I wondered what other secrets my warder kept from me.
So. David was going to treat this working as high ritual. He was moving beyond the ordinary spellcraft that he and I had practiced so many times here, in the comfort of my basement. He was elevating this magic to the limits of my witchy ability, making sure that we had the utmost astral protection.
My throat was suddenly too dry for me to swallow. I had known this spell was important. I had understood that a lot rode on what we were doing. I had believed that my future as a witch would be determined by my ability to create an anima.
But I had not truly grasped the seriousness of my endeavor.
Or the danger. David rarely used his warder’s powers this blatantly. I had to assume that he sensed some very real threat to what we were doing.
Or else, he was being his usual, paranoid, controlling self.
Before I could decide if that last thought made me feel more or less safe, David inclined his head over the dagger and muttered a few words, too softly for me to hear. At the same time, Neko glided to my side.
I felt my familiar magically as much as physically. He was like a highly polished bronze mirror, reflecting my own power back at me with a deep, steady glow. Neko might be a fashion king, and he might chide me far more than was fair about the makeup that I should or should not wear, but when arcane push came to magical shove, I could not imagine having a better resource at my side. I’d missed his astral companionship as we’d squabbled over milk and ice cream.
David nodded when he saw that we were poised for spell-work, and then he extended his arms in front of him, holding the dagger steady before his eyes. “May Hecate watch over our working here and keep us safe from evil.”
Neko and I responded as if we had rehearsed. “May Hecate keep us safe.”
David walked a quarter circle, continuing to hold the silver blade high, like a dowsing rod searching for magical potential. I
I reached out for the flask, automatically twisting my fingers to avoid touching David’s. That motion made my wrist bend at a strange angle; he rotated his own grasp on the flask to keep it from falling. Like an awkward fool dancing sideways to pass someone in a narrow hallway, I contorted my own fingers, only to end up grasping his with full force.
I sucked in my breath, as if I expected an electric charge to pass between us, but there was nothing. No residual glimmer of magic. No lingering sparkle of my contraceptive spell. No hint that anything had happened the afternoon before.
My belly twisted and, for just a moment, I thought I might be ill.
“Ready?” David asked, and his voice was calm and smooth, the steady baritone that had always anchored my magical workings.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, beyond caring if Neko suspected anything. “Ready,” I said.
I set the flask of water on the high bookstand that occupied the center of the basement. A burlap sack sat in the center of the mahogany surface, the same sack that I had explored a week and a half before, with Melissa obliviously drinking mojitos in my kitchen. I tried not to think about the clay runes that I had enjoyed using, the smooth tiles that had clicked in my fingers as I shuffled through their smooth, glazed surfaces.
Dust, now. Nothing but dust.
I shook my head. “Let’s go,” I said to David.
He eyed me for a long moment, and I wondered what he was thinking. Was he questioning my witchy ability? Was he wondering about our little diversion the day before? Was he doubting my dedication to my arcane arts?
I’d never know.
Without a spoken word, he ducked down. It took me a moment to figure out why he made the graceful motion, but when he stood, he clutched a silver dagger. I glanced at his ankle, unable to make out any sort of hidden sheath. Not for the first time, I wondered what other secrets my warder kept from me.
So. David was going to treat this working as high ritual. He was moving beyond the ordinary spellcraft that he and I had practiced so many times here, in the comfort of my basement. He was elevating this magic to the limits of my witchy ability, making sure that we had the utmost astral protection.
My throat was suddenly too dry for me to swallow. I had known this spell was important. I had understood that a lot rode on what we were doing. I had believed that my future as a witch would be determined by my ability to create an anima.
But I had not truly grasped the seriousness of my endeavor.
Or the danger. David rarely used his warder’s powers this blatantly. I had to assume that he sensed some very real threat to what we were doing.
Or else, he was being his usual, paranoid, controlling self.
Before I could decide if that last thought made me feel more or less safe, David inclined his head over the dagger and muttered a few words, too softly for me to hear. At the same time, Neko glided to my side.
I felt my familiar magically as much as physically. He was like a highly polished bronze mirror, reflecting my own power back at me with a deep, steady glow. Neko might be a fashion king, and he might chide me far more than was fair about the makeup that I should or should not wear, but when arcane push came to magical shove, I could not imagine having a better resource at my side. I’d missed his astral companionship as we’d squabbled over milk and ice cream.
David nodded when he saw that we were poised for spell-work, and then he extended his arms in front of him, holding the dagger steady before his eyes. “May Hecate watch over our working here and keep us safe from evil.”
Neko and I responded as if we had rehearsed. “May Hecate keep us safe.”
David walked a quarter circle, continuing to hold the silver blade high, like a dowsing rod searching for magical potential. I
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