Between us on the floor, a flat wooden tabletop serves as a makeshift altar, laden with all the offerings of the season—everything I could scavenge from the property and the house itself. In addition to the sugar cookies, wine, and black and gold candles emulating my mother’s setup, there’s a vulture skull, a snakeskin, two black feathers, and—in place of the holly I couldn’t find—dried evergreen needles and juniper berries.
I’ve also set up the bowl with my blood, the crystals, the herbs, and the Magician card.
Beneath it rests the Journey Through the Void of Mist and Spirit, a book we believe my mother retrieved from the dream realm. It’s the closest thing we have that connects both worlds—something that can get me a little closer, and help me find my way back.
There’s only one thing left to do.
“I love you, Cassius Devane,” I whisper. “And yes, I’m sure I want to do this.”
I gaze down into the reflection of my face in the bowl of blood and whisper the incantation.
Dreams of darkness, dreams of light
Hear me on this longest night
With trust and magick at the helm
Grant me passage through the realms
Blood of the World, blood of the Star
I call on the One, both near and afar
Connected by magick, connected by fate
Accept what I offer and unlock the gate
Then, just before the flame fizzles out, I drop the match into the bowl, setting my tiny world on fire.
Thirty-Four
STEVIE
“You came alone? That is both surprising and unwise.” The Dark Magician steps out from behind the stone altar inside the Fool’s Grave, his black-feathered cape rustling, crazy eyes glowing blue in the darkness.
Everything about him screamsunhinged, but I’m not afraid of him here. I’m not even here at all—not really. The spell Doc and I created allows me to project my consciousness into the Magician’s awareness inside the dream realm without risking death or entrapment.
As long as I don’t lose the moon-blessed athame I’m carrying, I’ll be able to call myself back to my body—back to Doc—whenever I’m ready.
Meeting the Magician’s creepy blue gaze, I lean against the wall of the cave and sigh. “Is this the part where you say, ‘I brought you into this world. I can just as easily take you out?’”
“I do not wish to take you out of this world, Starla. I am not in the habit of destroying my creations.”
“Especially when you need something from them.” I pull the athame from my pocket and slice my palm, letting the blood well up just enough to catch his attention before closing my fingers around the wound, willing it to heal again.
His face pales a bit, the only sign that my actions are affecting him.
“It doesn’t have to be a fight,” he says, eyes fixated on my blood-stained fist. He takes a few steps closer, holding out a hand, as if I might actually take it. “Not between us. You could join us, stand with us in power rather than cower in defeat.”
“Hard pass, Vader. I’m the Star, remember?Sonot Dark Side material.”
“Then why have you come? I’m neither hopeful nor foolish enough to believe you’re here to fulfill your mother’s broken oath.”
“You mean, to sacrifice myself on the altar of your noble cause? No, not exactly.”
“I didn’t think so. You’re too much like her. Stubborn. Obstinate.” A raspy chuckle escape his lips. “I do miss her, though. The new World… he just doesn’t have the same passion. Sometimes I regret what I did to your parents.” He strokes his dingy white beard, feigning contemplation. “This is one of those times. But don’t worry—the feeling always passes.”
I grip the athame tightly, anger simmering in my blood.
