Fatal Circle

Joh

The vampire was nonplussed, but it was done. I hoped he could concede that my logic was valid.

“They claim it is a second of nothingness,” he said. “Vampires die, and they ‘instantly’ awaken knowing hours have passed but without a true sense of them. It renders the impression of near-constant life.”

“And sharing souls? How does it work?”

“I have not experienced it before,” Menessos said irritably as he rose and paced.

“If I had to guess”—Joh

Menessos stroked his chin contemplatively.

“And,” Joh

I had a thought. “This ritual is in the Codex, right? Didn’t you perform it with Una and Ninurta?”

“Una would not.”

“Why?”

“She feared the repercussions. She thought that souls are the handiwork of the gods and that, should we play at separating and dividing our essences, we would all die.”

Guardedly, I asked, “What do you think?”

My question lingered, unanswered. Then Menessos disappeared into the black chasm doorway. A minute later, he came back with the Trivium Codex and placed it into my hands. “A silver ribbon marks the proper page. If, after studying the ritual, you still wish to perform it, return here an hour before dusk.”

Wordlessly, I pleaded with him to answer.

He stroked my cheek. “I think the goddess favors you above all others.” Then he departed into that blackness again.

I followed Joh

I couldn’t call Nana to decipher this for me. So, I called Dr. Geoffrey Lincoln. It being Saturday afternoon, the veterinarian was out of the office. The recorded response supplied an “emergency number” which I promptly dialed and left a message. After answering Joh

Then the phone rang.

For the next two hours, I read passages to Dr. Lincoln, Joh

I sat down to study the actual spell. Though I knew how Beau’s ingredients would work, I didn’t see how the willow wand fit in.

An hour before dusk, we gathered in Menessos’s chambers around the altar table where Aquula’s dead body had lain.

It was just after four in the afternoon. The sun would set at the startlingly early time of five-nineteen. Tomorrow would be the first Sunday in November, and daylight saving time would officially kick in at two A.M. tonight. All things considered, we have about fifteen hours.

The altar held the Trivium Codex—open to the proper page—the supplies Beau had provided, and the standard supplies, too. My wands, old and new, marked my place at the table. Menessos’s was marked by his black-handled athame. For Joh

We were all here. Ready or not. I reached for the salt to get this ritual under way. Menessos beat me to it, taking the salt neatly before I could. He walked around casting about this representation of the element of earth and cleansing the space.

I picked up the paper with the sigils for the spell, studied it once more, then set it to one side. Joh

“Something Beau gave me.”

Joh

“Water.” I hope. I hadn’t opened it.

“Is that a peach pit?”

“Yes. For love and wishes.”

“And the other stuff floating in there?”

I thought back.

Menessos replaced the salt on the altar, then smoothly took the incense and a feather and cleansed the space with the element of air.

“Moss, willow, and orchid petals,” I said to Joh

“And the orchid petals?”

“Love.”

“And?”

“Just love.”

“There’s a lot of love in that bottle.”

My cheeks warmed.

Menessos put back the incense, then made a trek around the circle with a red candle, cleansing the space with fire.

“Protection, too,” I said, holding up the prickly holly leaf. “Protection and luck.”

Joh

“For what we’re about to do, yes.”

He shot a glance at Menessos, then shifted back to me with brows raised, as if silently asking, Him too?

Making my expression entirely soft and full of compassion, I nodded.

He pointed to the paper on which I had drawn. “Those?”

“Sigils and symbols. The cross-number-two thing is the symbol of Saturn, and since it is Saturday we’ll tap the humility, authority, and respect associated with this day. However, we are at a crossroads here, so we’ll also call on the energy of Scorpio, the current zodiac house, and since the moon is waning we’ll concentrate on being rid of the dangers and doubts and . . .” I let it trail off. Joh

Menessos replaced the red candle and took up the seashell filled with water.

Joh

“You’re thinking it’s just a scribble, right?”

“Actually, I was thinking it’s like fan blades that have had Silly String sprayed on them.”

Maybe he won’t change after all. “You’ve sprayed Silly String on a fan before?”

“Of course. Haven’t you?”

“No.” Inspecting the sigil again, I had to agree it was as good an interpretation of the lines as another. “Your ‘fan blades’”—I traced with my finger—“are two S’s, see?” I’d drawn them with glue and silver glitter, one at a forty-five-degree angle, the second ninety degrees from the first so they crossed in the center. “They represent soul sharing, which is what we are doing. These are each of our initials, M, J, and P.” These were centered among the glitter. Purple and red ink from standard office-supply Sharpies highlighted the drawing.

Menessos finished with the cleansing, opened the altar energies, and lit the illuminator candles. With a nod at me he said, “Your turn.”

Taking the pail of sea salt, I drew a large circle encompassing much of the room, chanting, “Where circles are cast in salt . . . there, magic is called.” Then I redrew it with my usual crystal-tipped wand. “Where cross the paths of fate . . . there, magic is made.” I drew it a third and final time with the new willow wand. “Where three pieces make one whole . . . there, magic is the soul.” A triple-cast circle always made me feel safer.

“Two wands?” Menessos asked.

“This one is new.” I laid the willow wand on the table.

“Oh?”

“A present.”

“From?”

Who? The Goddess? A tree? “My meditation.”

He thoughtfully studied where it lay on the altar.

When I spoke the quarter calls, north and the earth element came first. The coarse sea salt marking the circle shifted as if to acknowledge that presence. The second call stirred the air in the room like a sighing breath. With the third call, the candle flames flickered down low in unison, then shot up in a single blast of greeting. When I called water, the seashell on the table rocked, making ripples across the water’s surface. Most impressively, the fluid in the bottle Beau had given me swirled as if shaken, forming a tornado effect with bubbles and debris being pulled down in the center.