I’d been performing mirror scrying since I was a little girl. I’d perfected it eons ago.
Why isn’t it working?
It must have had something to do with the centuries-old blood wards in the estate walls. Nothing in. Nothing out. If I were going to get a hold of anyone from the other side, maybe I would have to go someplace sacred to me. Perhaps I had to go to Tita’s house. It might still be too risky to go outside, but if it worked, it would be worth it. Refusing to give up hope, I let it go for the night and told myself I’d pick that thread tomorrow.
At nine o’clock, I ran myself a bath with three drops of cleansing oil, rue, rose petals, and salt. As I sat in the water, I enchanted it with my intention — ward away bad energies, cleanse my body for optimal ritual magic, and protect me (and my warriors) from ill harm. Closing my eyes, I grounded myself in my sacred space. I went back to my spiritual woods and listened to the birds chirping in the trees. I called to my ancestors and asked them for their blessing, and when the wind picked up, blowing my hair around my face, I smiled as the sensation of gratitude washed over me.
“The time has come when you must fight. You must channel your anger into faith, and faith into action.”
The words echoed in my mind, the sound of the woman’s gentle voice calming what little hesitation I had left.
I’d just been about to thank her again for her guidance when dark clouds blocked the sun, obsidian wisps wrapping around me.
“Filthy mortal,” came the deep growl. “You cannot escape me. You cannot escape this place.”
Panic seized my chest, gripping my heart in a vise, and I spun around, searching for the source of the voice. Bright crimson eyes glowed in front of me, razor-sharp teeth extending from behind a bloody grin.
Gasping, I opened my eyes and sat up, splashing water over the side of the tub.
There was nothing here. No one in my bathroom except for me.
“Fucking hell.” I ran my hands over my face and back through my hair, taking deep, calming breaths to slow my racing heart.
It’s not real. It’s a bad memory. Just a bad memory. That’s all.
Once the water had gone cold, I stepped out of the bath and let the droplets run down my body. Air drying allowed the magic to sink into the skin. I dressed in my white floor-length dress, braided my hair, and anointed my amulet with protection oil.
After gathering all of the supplies, I went downstairs to join the guys. They were dressed in white linen pants, their chests bare and hair brushed back as I requested. Wes wore a pentagram around his neck, attached with a long rope. Atlas wore his around his wrist on a brown leather bracelet.
“Here, let me,” I said, walking toward them so I could rub protection oil over their charms, just in case. “Ancestors of the order, I pray to you now. Please protect us in our work. Saint Marta, slayer of dragons, ancestor of my own namesake. Watch over us. Guide us.”
A shiver ran down my spine in answer, and I took that to mean she had our back, at least for this.
“Well?” Atlas asked, nodding toward the bag in my hand. “Are we ready?”
I nodded and glanced at Wes, who smiled in that gentle, reaffirming way of his, filling my chest with a confidence I only slightly felt.
“Let’s go.” I turned and led the way out of the house, around the gardens, and toward the tree line where I’d initially been bonded to them. I’d come out here every morning since we’d been stuck in the liminal, but it never felt quite as powerful as it did then. The crescent moon shone overhead, illuminating the trail with an ethereal radiance that made the world more effervescent. Frogs and crickets sounded in the distance, providing a chorus for our meditative walk, and when we got to the clearing, I sighed at the pulse of energy surrounding me.
This place was old, even older than my coven, and the wind bustling through the trees whispered ancient secrets that only a select few would ever be privy to.
Atlas set the wireless speaker down on a log while I grabbed the holy water to bless the space. Wes lined the candles up in a wide circle around the edge, in almost the same spots they’d been when we were bonded. I chanted prayers and offerings of peace to the land spirits, expelling any negative energy from the space so we could do our work in peace and harmony with nature.
Even if this was a questionable spell. Even if this was chaos magic in its rawest form.
“You’re sure this is the right playlist?” Atlas said, glancing down at my phone.
“The one that’s called Ritual One,” I answered, completing the cleanse before going back to my bag for the dried herb bundle.
“This has AC/DC and Led Zeppelin on it,” he said.
“Music is important,” I said. “It heightens the energy and welcomes the spirits to join us.”
He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Whatever you say, little witch.”
“Here,” I said, pointing to the fire pit as a primal instrumental song played in the background. “Stack the logs up. I’ll start the fire.”
Atlas did as I asked, and I picked up a candle, lighting it while I walked the circle to cast a ward around our magic. “Candle and flame, light the way. Keep our magic safe, we pray.”
