Mildred offers up a pleased smile with a subtle glint to her eye, like a professor proud of their pupil for asking the right questions, but knows that they also have the answer in front of them.
Fortunately, she doesn’t make me try to figure it out on my own, but her answer does have the cryptic nature of an old crone from a fantasy novel, “You want to convince someone to do your will, emotion or logic can be just as effective. However, if a person’s emotions were what was used to manipulate them, trying to use logic to bring them back to your side can often have the opposite effect.”
I unzip my sweater, because the garage has grown quite warm, and start fiddling with my necklace. Feeling the etched wolf on the back of the stone brings the ever present issue of the binding spell to mind, and I question, “But if fire controls emotions and air controls persuasion, how in the hell was Neva Reyes able to say no to you about helping us with removing the binding spell? You’re strong in both, aren’t you?”
Her lips press tight together and she straightens her clothes, despite the fact she looks like her normally, well-pressed self. “Yes, well,” she replies-- her standard opener for topics she doesn’t like discussing, “besides the fact that it’s illegal to use magic to manipulate a coven leader, each leader is bequeathed a talisman that is enchanted to absorb any magic cast against them.”
“That’s a thing?” I exclaim, equal parts shocked and kind of annoyed. Toddler me could’ve really used one of those. “Why only coven leaders? Considering the alternative, I’d think everyone would have one.”
“They’re very difficult to make and the sacrifice is high,” she murmurs, gently tucking some of my hair behind my ear. “It requires several extremely powerful witches of each element to infuse it with all of their magic… and magic is life.”
A sickening weight sits in my stomach, and I whisper, “They die, don’t they?”
“Yes. They die so that their leader may always be protected.”
My face scrunches up in disgust. “Does that mean a whole bunch of witches killed themselves to protect Gina’s equally evil mother?”
She releases a breathy chuckle without humor. “It’s unlikely. These days, leaders pass them down to their successors. However, it is customary for the passing leader to infuse the talisman with their remaining magic before they die. It’s a way to ensure that the talisman will always grow stronger and shows approval for their successor.”
“Fun,” I mutter, frowning down at the table. “You know, the supernatural world seems like a real downer as a whole.”
“It’s all about balance, my dear,” she explains, walking back to the shelves to thumb through more books. “Just like all things in life, there is light and dark. Good and bad. Reward and sacrifice.”
Dropping my elbows down on the table, I prop my head up with my hands. “Pretty familiar with the dark, bad, and sacrifice. Can I get to the good part now?”
“Very soon,” she assures, glancing over her shoulder before pulling another book from the wall. This one looks far newer and smaller. “Until then, I have another gift for you.”
“Does this one also help keep me from blowing up the town?” I reply cheekily with a grin. “Speaking of, any new ideas on removing the binding spell?”
She gives me another ‘save me from teenagers’face, then walks back over, placing the book in front of my braced elbows. The cover has an inked pattern of what looks like the Wiccan tree of life mixed with various symbols and designs. Some I recognize as illustrations of elements, others I have no clue.
“This was your mother’s grimoire. I’d like you to study it,” Mildred informs me, warmth and fondness filling her voice. “A witch’s grimoire is more than just spells. It can be a window into the heart and soul of its owner.”
Tears immediately burn in my eyes, as I gently stroke the tattered edges of its pages. It’s the first time I feel like I can get an honest look at the woman I never knew but has nonetheless shaped my life in countless ways.
“Thank you,” I murmur, sniffing and blinking rapidly. “This means a lot.”
“You’re welcome,” she replies and kisses the top of my head. “I would’ve given it to you sooner, but it was hidden in a box in the back of my closet.”
Ah yes, in the deep reaches of Narnia.
Mildred expels a deep breath. “As for the binding spell, I have some ideas, but I need to find a way to test them before I try them on you.”
Standing up straight, I stretch my arms over my head, before folding them over my chest. It's been a long day. “Just for the record, I’m also pro that. Not going to lie, not big on the idea of being a spell guinea pig.”
She laughs and begins flipping through the open tome again. “As I’ve said, magic is life-- in some ways nearly sentient, having its own way of interpreting a witch’s will. Hence the importance of having the exact right spell.”
“Or you might end up with a monkey’s paw kind of deal?” I jest.
“Exactly,” she chirps, absently tapping her finger on the page she’s opened to. “And spirit magic is the most powerful magic of all, because it has no element. It’s pure life, and so it’s nearly impossible to control.”
“Unless you’re a spirit witch.”
“Unless you’re a spirit witch,” she echoes with a nod. “What I’m trying to do is convince magic that should only be controlled by you to do my bidding and collect in a vessel that would allow anyone to use it.”
“But it’s to save me which my magic should be all for, right?” I sigh and begin to pace laps around the room, looking at all the things on the wall but not really absorbing any of it.
“And if you had control of your magic, it would be a relatively easy thing for you to command your magic to do,” Mildred supplies unhelpfully. “Right now, your magic is on a kind of... survival mode autopilot, if you will, and it's doing its best to protect you.”
