I groaned and slid down onto the floor of the tiny cubicle. I decided to try one more time. Listen, I know for a fact that Robbie loves you. And you obviously care about him. Why cant you trust that and stop trying to undermine all the good stuff? Why cant you just let yourself love him and be happy?
Bree rolled her eyes. Because, she said with absolute certainty, in real life things just dont work that way, Morgan.
Didnt they? I wondered. I thought again about Brees mom walking out on her and her dad. That had to be the root of all her warped ideas about love.
Or did Bree really know something I didnt?
Twenty minutes later Bree and I left Divas, each of us carrying a neon pink shopping bag. Bree had bought the bronze-top outfit, a chartreuse day pack, and a black T-shirt for Robbie. Id gotten a cobalt blue tee and a lilac camisole, which pretty much shot my clothing budget.
Whats next? I asked, cheered by our retail therapy.
Bree looked thoughtful. Theres a fabulous shoe store right around the corner, and theres a shop close by that specializes in African jewelry. Theres also an aromatherapy place off Wooster, she added.
Lets check that out.
We hadnt gone more than a block when my witch senses began to tug at me. Bree, can we go this way? I asked, pointing down Broome Street.
She shrugged good-naturedly. Why not?
I followed my senses the way a spider follows its own silken thread and found myself in an alley off Broome Street. Hanging over a narrow doorway at the end of the alley was a square white banner with a green wheel printed on it. In the center of the green wheel was a purple pentagram.
The Wheel of the Year, Bree said. The diagram for the eight Wiccan sabbats.
The feel of magick grew stronger with every step we took. When we reached the shop, a sign on the black cast-iron door made me smile: Gifts of the Mage: Specializing in Books of Magick and the Occult. And beneath it in smaller letters: Welcome, Friends.
I pushed open the door, causing a brass bell to ring, and stepped into a cool, dim, high-ceilinged space. I didnt see the sort of general Wiccan supplies that Practical Magick stocked, but a wall of cabinets behind the counter held essential oils in bottles that looked positively ancient. A deep balcony ran around the walls halfway up, with more bookshelves and shabby armchairs in alcoves.
Bree walked toward mahogany shelves stacked with tarot decks. Oh, they have a reproduction of that gorgeous Italian deck I saw in the Pierpont Morgan Library, she said.
My witch senses were still prickling. Was there something here that I was meant to find? I glanced up at the black metal staircase that led to the balcony floor.
Alyce recommended a book on scrying, I told Bree, but she didnt have it in stock. Maybe I can find it here. Already absorbed in tarot decks, Bree mumbled an okay.
Following the store directory, I climbed the stairs to the balcony and began to search for the divination section. The scent of old leather tickled my nose. I could almost feel centuries of spells whispering to me. Find me, invoke me. Im yours, Im made for your power. I passed sections labeled Oracles and Emanations, Amulets and Talismans. It felt good be among so many books filled with so much knowledge.
I rounded the end of the aisle and came face-to-face with a large section labeled Divination. Just beyond it, at the end of this next aisle, I saw a man seated in an armchair next to a potted tree of some sort. I stopped, confused by the feeling of familiarity that swept over me.
Then I realized he was the same man whod been in the courtyard of the club the night before. He was reading a book, looking as relaxed as if he were in his own living room. He wore a tweed jacket over a white shirt and faded jeans. Cropped salt-and-pepper hair softened a hawkish weathered face.
He glanced up, showing me deep-set brown eyes, and acknowledged me with a courteous nod. We meet again, he said.
Do you work here? I blurted.
No. He seemed surprised by the idea. I teach myth and folklore at Columbia. This is just one of my more pleasant sources for reference materials. He had a faint accent, which I hadnt noticed before. Irish or Scottish, maybeI wasnt sure. He marked his place in the book and closed it. Was that your first time at the club, last night? he asked.
Yes. Sometimes I am such a brilliant conversationalist, its really overwhelming. Why was I so tongue-tied around this man? I asked myself. It certainly wasnt a crush thing. He had to be nearly as old as my dad. And yet I felt an affinity with him, a familiarity, an attraction.
He regarded me with curiosity. What did you think of it?
I thought about the beautiful illusion Killian had created for Raven.
It was a little intense, but also cool, I said. Id never seen witches use their magick just for pleasure.
Personally, thats what Ive always liked best about magickusing it to create beauty and pleasure in the midst of the trials life forces us to undergo.
He made a sign over the potted tree, and I watched its leaves fade, shrivel, and fall off. From the soil a green shoot grew. It was as if I were watching a movie on fast-forward. No natural plant could grow so quickly, but in the space of a minute or so a lilac bush grew against the trunk of the dead tree, and pale lilac blossoms opened, filling the air with sweet fragrance.
It was incredibly beautiful. It was also a little unnerving. It broke all the laws of nature. What would happen to the lilac? It was an outdoor plant that needed a winters frost. It couldnt survive in a pot in a store. And I couldnt help feeling a little sorry for the healthy tree that had died for a witchs pleasure.
And what would Hunter think of this? I wondered. Hed probably consider it an irresponsible, not to mention indiscreet, use of magick. Something the council would frown on.
The world can always use more beauty, you know, the man said, as if hed read my doubts. Adding beauty to the world is never irresponsible.
I didnt know how to answer. I suddenly felt very, very young and ignorant.
He seemed to sense my discomfort. So, you came here looking for a book?
Yes. I was enormously relieved to remember I had a concrete reason for being there. Im looking for a book on scrying by Devin Dhualach.
A good name, that, the man said. Devin means bard, you know, so hopefully he can write. And Dhualach is an old Irish name that comes down to us from the Druids. If hes true to his ancestors, he may indeed have something useful to say about scrying.
IIll just look at these shelves under divination, I said, suddenly shy and nervous.
Good idea. The man smiled and went back to his book.
I found the Dhualach and sat down cross-legged on the floor to look through it. There were chapters on scrying with water, fire, mirrors, and luegs, scrying stones or crystals. There was even a macabre chapter on throwing bones, snake vertebrae being very highly recommended. There was nothing, thoughat least nothing I could see on a quick skimthat dealt with how to control the visions, how to fine-tune them so I could see exactly what I needed to see.
The man from the courtyard glanced up from his book. Not finding quite what youre looking for? he asked.
I hesitated, aware that I had to be careful. Yet it didnt feel like he was prying. It was more that he recognized me as another blood witch and sensed my power. It wasnt the first time that had happened. David Redstone had recognized what I was the first time he saw me, even before I knew myself.
I noticed that he was looking at me oddly, as if hed suddenly remembered something but wasnt sure whether or not he should mention it. Then he said, You scry with fire. It was an acknowledgment rather than a question.
I nodded, and my nervousness dropped away. It was as if Id just walked through a door into a room where we were acknowledged peers. Witch to witch. Strength to strength. Power conduit to power conduit.
The fire shows me things, but I feel like theyre often random. I dont know how to make it show me what Im looking for, I admitted.
Fire has a will of her own, he said. Fire is ravenous, fighting control, always seeking her own pleasure. To tame her is a lifetimes work, a matter of coaxing her to reveal what you want to know. I could show you, buthe looked at the shelves around us and smileda bookstore is hardly the place to play with fire.
Thats all right, I said, trying not to sound disappointed.
The lines around his eyes crinkled. Perhaps I can explain it through another medium. The principles the same.
He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a piece of clear, polished crystal, cut in the shape of a crescent moon. It wasnt big, maybe three inches across, but its surface was faceted and etched with runes and magickal symbols.
He held the crystal out to me, and I took it in my right hand. The crystal was surprisingly light, as if it belonged to a slightly altered gravity.
I assume you know that you must ask the medium to give you a vision and that you must be specific. If what you want is to see your kitten tomorrow, specify tomorrow. I wondered how he knew I had a kitten. Then again, it wasnt uncommon for witches to have cats. In your minds eye picture that animal or person and send the image into the stone, asking it to accept it. His voice was soft, almost hypnotic. The key is you must then use your power to feel the energy in the crystalor the fireand send its light into the future, searching for what you seek. Thats really all there is to it.
You make it sound simple, I said.
Most things are, once theyre familiar. Why dont you practice with the crystal first? At the doubt in my eyes he said, Hold on to the crystal if you like. I need to go downstairs and check a few books for my syllabus. Just leave the crystal by the chair when youre done with it.
I sat there debating as he went down the stairs. I didnt want to try anything complicated in the store, but maybe I could do something simple. Id been worried about Mary K. ever since that awful night Selene kidnapped her, using her as the bait to get me. She didnt seem to remember anything about being at Selenes housein fact, she seemed to have believed the cover story we gave my parents, which was that she had gone to the movies by herself because she was depressed. But lately shed been having nightmares.
Id finally learned not to underestimate anything Selene did. Rational or not, there was a part of me that worried that though Selene was dead, her magick somehow still had a hold on my sister.
Holding the crystal, I silently asked the stone to give me the vision I sought. I pictured my sister at home, sitting at the table, and asked the crystal to accept that image. I nearly dropped the stone as Mary K.s image appeared inside it, tiny and perfect and three-dimensional. I watched her sitting at the table, then I asked the crystal to show her to me one week from now.
A stones energy pattern is as distinct as any persons or animals. The energy in this particular crystal was cool, glowing green-white, surging and swelling like a tide. For several breaths I let my energy ride its swells. Then I sent it surging into the future.
The image in the crescent changed. I saw Mary K. and her friend Jaycee walking out of the Widows Vale Cineplex. The vision was so perfect and detailed, I could even see the missing X in the marquee.
Then I felt something odd, almost like a cold draft on the back of my neck. I wheeled around in alarm. Was someone watching me? Even in a place frequented by other witches, I knew it wasnt a good idea for me to work magick in public. But I could see no one else on the balcony, and when I extended my senses, I couldnt feel anyone nearby.
Focusing on the crystal again, I realized I was starting to feel tired, which was pretty common whenever I moved into a new level of magick. Knowing I wouldnt be able to maintain the spell much longer, I thanked the stone for its help and withdrew my power from it. The glowing green-white light inside it faded, and the vision of Mary K. winked out.
Id done it. Id called up a vision and seen exactly what Id asked to see. This was the way magick was supposed to work.
I stood up. Then, feeling light-headed, I sat down in the chair. I was vaguely aware that Bree must be wondering where I was. I told myself Id just sit long enough for my pulse to return to normal. But a wave of exhaustion totaled me. My limbs felt heavy. My head began to nod. I couldnt keep my eyes from drifting closed.
Everything shadowed. The owl hovering over the stone table. Razor-sharp talons and golden eyes. The jackals high-pitched laughter. Venom dripping from the vipers fangs. The jaguar, claws unsheathed. Hunger that could never be sated. The weasel, crawling so close, its claws scrape the table. Candles burning low, casting shadows on the walls. Golden eyes, green eyes, glittering, intent. All of them fixed on the wolf cub. All of them waiting. The cubs terror, sharp and pungent. The red ruby set in the hilt of the athame, glowing with power. The eagles scream. And the silver wolf. The one they all wait for. It leaps to the table and opens its great jaws. The cub howls.
Are you all right? I felt someone gently shaking my shoulder.
My eyes flew open. The man from the courtyard was standing over me, his eyes shadowed with concern.
What happened? he asked.
II must have fallen asleep, I said, feeling shaken and embarrassed. I was soaked with sweat. I had a dream.
What sort of dream?
Just a bad one. Even though I felt sick and disoriented, I knew I couldnt risk saying more. Especially if the council was right about what the dream meant.
Dreams are funny, the man said thoughtfully. They have their own internal logic. They mix past and present and future and then some things that I believe belong to our collective unconscious. Things that may have nothing to do with you specifically.
Maybe this wasnt specific to me, I agreed. After all, no one had ever explained why I was the one who had this dream, but the fact that Id had it twice now unnerved me.
I drew in several deep breaths, then got to my feet. So far, so good; walking seemed possible. I glanced at my watch. It was after one. Id better find my friend, I said. Thanks for all your help.