The Seventh Witch by Shirley Damsgaard Page B

I eased myself down and crossed my legs.
    It only took a moment to lay out my supplies—the lath, the six penny nail, my abalone shell, and a ball of sage. As I’d done on the mountain, I lit the sage, only this time instead of inhaling its purifying smoke, I passed the lath back and forth through the fumes. When I was finished, I picked up the nail. Carefully, I began etching the first rune.
    “Algiz,” I whispered softly, and imagined any harm cast this way vanishing like a mist in the face of its powerful protection.
    “Nauthiz.” Saying the name of the next rune, I carved it beside Algiz. As I did, I focused my desire to keep my family safe onto the long scratches I made into the lath.
    Lifting the lath, I gently blew away the shavings before moving to the next rune.
    “Kenaz.” The image of a fire burning brightly in the hearth appeared in my mind. I saw its warmth move slowly through the house until the entire building was wrapped in a protective glow.
    “Berkano.” Pictures of my family flitted through my mind. Tink, Abby, Aunt Dot, Lydia, even Great-Aunt Mary. I saw Algiz standing before them like a shield.
    Taking a deep breath, I began to carefully form the next rune. This was an important one—it focused the power of the runescript onto one specific person. Only Laguz would be appropriate. The symbol of a woman with extraordinary gifts…Abby. She seemed to be at the center of whatever was happening right now.
    Satisfied I had it right, I made the sixth rune—Eihwaz, a rune that turned tragedy into triumph. The evil I sensedgathering around Abby would dissipate and only good would remain.
    And last but not least, I formed the final rune: Inguz, the symbol of a successful conclusion. It sealed the power of the previous six runes.
    Holding the lath close to the lantern, I looked over each rune, seven in all. The number seven itself was magickal. It, too, would lend its power to my carvings. Lifting the lantern chimney, I stuck each end of the lath into the fire, charring them and containing the magick now permeating the small piece of wood.
    After clearing my space, I cast the ashes in the air with a sigh of thankfulness and returned the sage to the earth. I rose to my feet and wrapped the runescript in a clean white cloth. Sticking it and my shell back in my pocket, I picked up the lantern and headed out of the barn.
    As I crossed the yard back to the house, a small smile twitched at the corner of my mouth and I patted my pocket. Once this was under Abby’s mattress, she’d be safe.
    I stopped and stared across the valley. My smile faded as I thought of Sharon, and anger pricked at me.
    Mess with us, will you?
     
    Even though I’d been the last one in bed, I still couldn’t sleep. I lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling and listening to Abby’s soft snores. Happy with myself, I snuggled down in bed. She was safe…I knew it. But what about the windows and doors? Had I checked them?
    With a small groan, I threw my legs over the side of the bed and quietly padded out of the room. Halfway down the hall, I noticed a light coming from the living room. Great, another “back door Betty”? Peeking around the corner, I saw Aunt Dot, alone, sitting in her recliner, reading a book.
    “Hey there,” I said in a loud whisper as I entered the room. “You couldn’t sleep either?”
    With a smile, she placed her book facedown in her lapand smiled. “Part of getting old, child. Your inside clock goes haywire.”
    Walking to the couch, I sat and curled my legs underneath me. I eyed Aunt Dot speculatively. I’d done what I could to protect Abby, but I still wanted to know what happened to start this blood feud. And Aunt Dot was chatty. During her visit to Iowa she’d let several family skeletons out the closet, much to Abby’s dismay. Wonder if I could pry out a few more?
    “I told Sharon Doran to back off,” I said abruptly.
    Aunt Dot pushed the footstool of the recliner down and sat forward.