09 - Return Of The Witch (14 page)

“So how long before we know anything?”

“I don’t know, a few days maybe.”

“Days? I can’t wait days. Dominic, we have to know sooner than that.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think it’s marking chalk.”

“What do you think it is?”

“I think it’s…. I’d rather not say just yet. Let’s hope I’m wrong. That’s all.”

Carlos walked up to the edge of the road and peered down into the gully.
“Guess we should call a tow truck, huh?”

“No, leave it for morning,” I said. “I need to get home right away.”

“Why?”

“There’s something I have to do.”

“What?”

“I left the oven
on. What does it matter? Can you take me home now or not?”

Dominic answered,
“Fine, but Ursula goes home with me. I think you put her in enough danger for one night.”

What could I do but agree?

The boys dropped me off in front of my house and waited until I was safely inside before pulling away. The second they were gone, I got right down to business.

Chapter 14

Most people
know that the Grimoire is the sacred text of witchcraft, often handed down from mother to daughter through successive generations of witches. Few, however, understand that it is not an object of possession, rather a symbiotic partner. The Grimoire is spellbound. It chooses its host as much as the host chooses it. When separated by misdeed or misfortune, the Grimoire will always find its way home.

Three times in my life, most recent
ly after my last Rite of Passage, my Grimoire and I became separated for days on end. Each time it found its way back to me on its own, our reunion cemented in a time-honored bond that will never break.

I tell you this so that you
’ll understand what I did next and how, for some people, I know, would not believe it if they did not see it with their own eyes.

I retrieved my Grimoire from its perch on the top shelf of my closet and returned it to the living room
. There, eight scented candles marked the perimeter of the chalked circle I made on the floor the night before. I placed the Grimoire within the circle and sat Indian style in front of it.

Beside me lay a
thimble of safflower oil, my athame and a sugar cube sized chunk of selenite, the latter of which I acquired during my recent trip to the Eighth Sphere. As selenite goes, that chunk was exceptionally pure and free of inclusions. Though I would have preferred a witch’s key to direct the energy I needed, crystals of such pristine caliber often make for suitable stand-ins.

After turning off the house light
s and opening the windows to a stirring breeze outside, I was finally set. The scented candles poured out wisps of sweet jasmine, a personal favorite of mine for getting in the proper mood for such things. Outside, the roll of thunder hinted at an approaching storm, another mood enhancer. It felt good to be in the moment of magick.

I opened the hardcover binder to the first page, an otherwise blank sheet
now spotted brown with drops of blood from previous articulations. Some were mine, others from witches of generations past. All of it blood from a single lineage.

I
began by raking the selenite across the athame, stroking the blade until the edge of it glistened in glints of silver and white. The essence of magick awoke.

Jasmine whispered in the wind stealing through the window. The candles fluttered.
The hum of electric energy excited the hairs on my arms. I welcomed it. The door blew open. Anticipation wandered in and shut it again. It smiled at me. I wet my lips and smiled back, allowing the bitter taste of safflower a place upon my tongue.

The Grimoire waited.

I drizzled oil over the athame and ran it through the flame. The oil ignited in shades of cobalt and danced in nervous skips along the blade.

“
Vade mecum, my trusted friend
,” I began, positioning my left hand over the Grimoire. “
Let thy wisdom be thy guide
.”

I
blew the fire out and dragged the red-hot athame across my palm, spilling blood upon the spotted page. “
Show me what I need to know to stem the evil tide
.”

With that, the Grimoire’s pages began to turn, slowly at first, but soon much faster, fluttering through its chapters at a blurring pace too
quickly to count. It stopped on page two-hundred, and with a clever twist of firelight, highlighted the words
Merry meet
. It then flipped another six pages forward and drew the light upon the word,
Lilith
.

“Oh my,” I said, smiling. “I didn’t even know my name was in this book. Well then, merry meet to you, too
, Grimoire.”

The book zipped backward
some forty pages, highlighting only the words,
how-may-Grimoire-help-thee
, in a sentence that actually read, “No matter
how
ye
may
use the
Grimoire
for
help
, know
thee
thy limits.

“Ah, cute,” I said. “Double meaning
. I get it.”

Fast forward one hundred pages. The
Grimoire highlighted three words,
just-kid-ding
, within the sentence that read, `Tis
just
the thing to use
kid
gloves that thee not
ding
thy finish.

Nice, I thought. My Grimoire has a sense of humor. I’ll spare you the reading-between-the-lines bullshit, for literally that
’s what it was, and instead I’ll try to convey the articulation directly as best I remember.

“Grimoire,
” I asked, “do you know anything about the Pendle Prophecy?”

It is writ
ten, yet not within these pages,
the Grimoire answered.

“I know that, but have you heard of it?”

Aye
.

“Any truth to it?”

Mayhap so.

“What about the quintessential?
Is it possible one might possess it in force, control it I mean?”

The fifth essential
, energy, lies within the beholder
.

“What do you mean, someone already possess it?”

Aye.

“Me, Grimoire? Do I possess the quintessential?”

Mayhap so, thou doth and not know.

“
That’s because I don’t know. Grimoire, tell me. Is that what’s been happening to me at night? Have I been traveling via the energy of the quintessential and killing innocent witches?”

I know naught of this.

“Then how do I find out? If I possess the quintessential, how am I to know?”

Use it
.

“How?”

It doth come by instinct if thou shalt will it
.

“No.” I shook my head and thumped my fist to my chest. “I don’t think so, Grimoire. I know magick. I know
how it feels inside. It’s not in me. If it comes to me in my sleep, then it leaves me when I awake. That doesn’t seem right. I want another explanation.”

I have none for thee.

“Then you’re no help, are you?”

The Grimoire flipped
its pages back, then forward and back again as if searching for answers. Finding none, it referred to the front cover. I reopened it. It closed again.

I blew the candles out, shut the windows and returned the Grimoire to its shelf in the close
t. Still dressed in jeans, shirt and shoes, I dropped onto my bed and fell fast asleep.

I expected
that any dream I had would likely involve another witch dying or disappearing, but that didn’t happen. Instead, I dreamt of Tony, only it didn’t feel so much like a dream, as it did a passage through another dimension.

I remember drifting toward a light,
unencumbered by gravity, my body treading on a cushion of air in a soundless vacuum. A hand reached out from the blinding center. I took it, fearing nothing of the consequences. It was Tony; I knew it. He reeled me in and held me tightly, his strong arms folding me into his body as if we were one. I slid my hands around his waist and across his back. He was naked; I was naked, and our skin touching each other felt so good that I never wanted to let him go.

I closed my eyes and
basked in the warmth of his breath beading down my neck. I smiled at the way he whispered so gently in my ear, trembled at the touch of his warm lips upon my breasts.

“Tony,” I said. His broad hands slid off my hips and swept across my bottom. “Tony, you have to tell me. Is this real?”

“Shhh,” he cooed, and kissed me softly. He cupped the rounds of my cheeks and pulled me in closer. I could feel how much he wanted me, how hard he ached. I slipped my hand between us and squeezed him tightly. He lurched back and then forward, pressing against me in a shuddered breath.

“
Tony, please. This seems so real. I have to know. Am I really here with you?”

“You can’t ask,” he said. “You’ll spoil it. We have this moment. You asked for it.
It’s yours.”

“Am I dead?”

He looked at me strangely, as though unsure of my question. Then I saw it in his eyes, a sudden realization that seemed to frighten him like nothing else on earth. He pulled back, holding me at arm’s length, examining me head to toe.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“You know I love you. I always will. But I can’t let you do this.”

“
Do what? I don’t under—”

“Remember, Lilith. I will always love you.”

He turned and started away. I started after him, or tried, but my feet wouldn’t move. “Tony! Wait! Please don’t leave me again!”

H
e melted into a light so bright I had to turn my eyes away, but his voice returned, fading in echoes. “I will always love you.”

I dropped my head and buried my face into my open palms. “And I will always love you,” I said in a whisper so soft that
even my hands wouldn’t have heard it.

I woke up in my own
bed; still dressed in the clothes I had fallen asleep in the night before. Ursula was there, sitting on the edge of the mattress and brushing my cheek with the back of her hand. I pushed her away and sat up against a pillow.

“Ursula?” I looked around to see if Carlos and Dominic were there, too.
They weren’t. “How did you get here?”

“I
drove,” she said, turning up a guilty grin.

“
You drove Dominic’s car? Does he know that?”

“I did not tell him.”

“Huh, good for you then.”

“
Good for thee,” she said. “How art thou?”

“I’m fine
. Why do you ask?”

“Thou wert crying.”

“Me? Crying?”

“Aye.”

I eased my head against the headboard and allowed my gaze to wander the room as I recalled the dream I had that night. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

“
Doth thou wish to give talk of it?”

“No.” I shook my head and took a deep breath. “It was just a
silly dream.”

“A dream,
no doubt, but a scary one the same.”

“No, it wasn’
t.” I smiled, recalling the comfort I found in Tony’s arms. “It was actually rather beautiful.”

“
For thee, mayhaps, yet not for me.”

“Why
do you say that?”

“
Thee had for the better of a minute and one half, stopped breathing.”

“
You mean I died?”

“Methinks
, for a light so bright did leave thee and so returned upon my plea.”

“Your plea?”

“Aye, so loud I begged thee not to go, I might think the whole world did hear.”

“
No, not the world, but he heard you.”

“
Who?”

“Tony. I think he…. Whoa!”

I put my hands out to stop the room from spinning. Ursula grabbed my leg, perhaps thinking I’d roll out of bed if she didn’t anchor me down. Maybe I would have.

“You know
, Urs, I’m not feeling so hot. I think I could use some coffee.”

“
Breakfast,” she said. “I shall cook thee some.”

“No, I have a better idea.
You say Dominic doesn’t know you’re here?”

She shook her head. “My Dominic is at work.
He believes I am home making as a housewife makes.”

“Good. What do you say we go
on a little road trip to see Ms. Turner?”

“The old witch
?”

“Yeah, there’s something
I need to ask her.” I sat up on the edge of the bed next to Ursula and began pulling off my shoes.

“Be it the Pendle Prophecy?”

“Yes, although I’m not saying I believe in it completely, but if it’s true, I have to know what side of it I’m on.”

I took my shirt off and began
unbuttoning my jeans. “Would you mind putting some coffee on while I grab a quick shower? I’ll explain more once we hit the road.”

“Aye
, and should I call my Dominic to let him know?”

“No
, you shouldn’t call your Dominic. Damn, girl, I thought you were getting the hang of this thing called marriage?”

“What if he calls me?”

“He won’t. Besides, we’ll be back before lunch. He’ll never know we left.”