The Witch with No Name

My fingers shook as I unfolded Ivy’s borrowed black silk scarf, the strands of this morning’s spiderweb in it. It had been hard to find this late in the year, impossible if not for Jenks. Still kneeling, I draped the first strand over Trent’s shoulder. “Thank you for staying,” I said, starting when he unexpectedly took my hand, eyes pleading.

“I should do this. It was my idea to trust Landon.”

“Yeah, let him,” Jenks said, and Buddy sneezed from the pixy dust.

But something in the feel of his hands about mine said he wasn’t worried about Landon. It was something else. “And have Cormel say I didn’t fulfill my agreement?” I said, and Cormel cleared his throat impatiently. “No.” I slipped from Trent’s hands, feeling a tingle pull all the way through me. “Jenks? Here.”

The pixy’s chin lifted, and I stared at him until he dropped down and tweaked a tiny piece from Trent’s strand. “Happy now?” he barked at me, and I stood.

“Ecstatic.” My mood worsened as I looked at Cormel. “Sir?” I said, holding out the scarf. I wasn’t going to get any closer to him than I needed to.

Motions slow, he took a long strand and draped it across the buttonhole of his coat. He still hadn’t taken off his coat, and his suit under it looked expensive and exquisite, the kind that Trent had once worn all the time.

There was one strand left, and I carefully plucked it free, intending to put it on my hair.

“What about the dog, Rache?”

Crap on toast, what about Bis still hiding at the ceiling? Lips pressed, I broke it in two, holding the larger strand out. “Here, you give it to him,” I said, eyes going to Bis in the kitchen. “I don’t think he likes me yet.”

Jenks’s gaze was crafty, dust sparkling as he dropped down. Wings clattering, he took it, darting first to Buddy and then the kitchen, pretending to get another dollop of peanut butter before rising up to give the last strand to Bis.

Cormel was frowning, and my stomach clenched. The world was going to change again. I should have worn nicer shoes.

I took a deep breath and reached out my awareness, laying a mental finger, as it were, upon the nearest ley line. My sour expression melted away as the energy flowed through me and back to the earth, connecting me to all things. It was akin to a warm bath, a shot of tequila, and an hour’s massage, easing my tension and instilling in me the confidence of past spells. Feeling the first hints of a soothing numbness, I began to spill the salt into a pentagram.

As if pulled from the energy flow itself, the beating of drums seemed to rise in my memory, making my motions sure and steady as I felt as if I was drawing on the skill of all of those who had come before me. Landon hadn’t said anything about the elven chant coming into play this soon, but it felt right, and I let it flow through my actions. Ta na shay. See me. See me recognize you.

A gentle warmth from the line tingled through me, my fingers no longer cold and slow. With a sudden shock, I recognized the faint feeling of lassitude slipping into me and I jerked from it. My smooth motion pouring salt bobbled. A tiny slip of sand marred my perfect pattern, and I froze. Felix jerked as my fear hit him. I didn’t need the Goddess’s help for this, and alarm that I might fall under her sway this easily was a shock.

“Rachel,” Trent pleaded, and I shook my head.

“I’m fine,” I said as I finished my pattern, not knowing why Jenks was hovering so close. He’d seen me spell worse charms than this. Besides, I was entirely hidden from the Goddess, even if I should stand on the highest tower and shout for her. I was alone, and it hurt after being a part of something so much bigger than myself.

Trent’s hand found mine, and I gave it a quick squeeze to tell him I was okay. He always seemed to know when I thought of the mystics. They’d let me see around corners and almost through time. Giving them up had bought Newt’s silence, so I knew they were real, my blackmail going both ways as my silence protected her as well.

I exhaled as the last of the salt went hissing down. The lines of the pentagram took on a faint glow in the glare of the overhead light. Satisfied, I reached for the aspen sap. The grinding feel of the glass stopper was familiar, and I didn’t set the stopper down as I touched the stylus to it. The thin rod had cost almost as much as the sap itself and was guaranteed to be from the same Colorado field the sap had been taken from: a thousand trees, but one genetic organism. It was a potent symbol. Souls were as unique as trees, but they all sprang from the same source, the same beginning.

Trent whispered for Jenks to back off as I anointed the two feet of the pentagram. His dust burned, and I looked up at the jolt of connection to the rising spell, blinking at Felix’s shiny dress shoes parked on the arm of the short couch.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my spellbound voice coming out almost as a croak. “Can you take off his shoes and socks, please?”