Joy of Witchcraft Read online

  The satyr tossed his head, butting hard against David’s chest before screaming and diving back to Cassie. I scraped more power from Neko. Knowing I was doomed to fail but needing to try, I shouted the next two lines of the spell:

  “Wise fool, wild child, scrambling to be free,

  Hear my voice, know my words, banishéd you’ll be.”

  As I got to that word, though, to be, I realized another voice was raised with mine. Teresa Alison Sidney stood across from me, ignoring the rain and the wind. She rested one hand on the shoulder of her familiar, the other on her warder’s forearm. She stared across the line that had marked my magicarium’s arcane shield, smiling serenely.

  She was certain I didn’t have the power to finish the working on my own. But she knew the rest of the spell. She stood ready and willing to help.

  She understood what it would cost me to accept her aid, how I longed to shake my head, to refuse her offer of assistance. But I didn’t have that luxury. I needed Teresa. And so I nodded, matching her smile with my own grim twisted lips. Her eyes flashed in victory as I raised my arms, letting a wash of golden light ripple to my fingertips and flow toward Cassie and the satyr. Teresa matched me, wave for wave, the ruby glow of her own prodigious powers meeting mine in a fiery line.

  Together, we chanted the final couplet of the spell:

  “Satyr leave us, go your way, back from whence you came.

  Stay away until the day our powers call your name.”

  Simultaneously, we changed the last line of the spell, making it plural, making it match the magic we wove. The flash of darkness was immediate, that power-filled absence of everything—the storm, the circle, the weight of my body. And when the world lurched back into being, the satyr was gone.

  Half-moon hoofprints quickly filled with rain. David sucked in his breath as he pressed his hand against his ribs. Cassie’s warder gritted his teeth, trying to support his broken arm with his good one. Cassie herself collapsed against the ground, her ribcage rising and falling as if she were a salmon plucked from a spawning stream.

  David recovered first, snapping out commands to the other warders, ordering everyone back to the farmhouse. The building was warded, protected from all types of marauders, magical and mundane. As my shocked students started to move, David helped Cassie to her feet. Gingerly, he handed her over to the combined attention of Tupa and Zach. At his repeated urging, all of the student witches, their familiars, and their warders began the short trek back to the house.

  Only then did David turn to Teresa. Not quite able to bury a lifetime of respect for Teresa’s title, David said, “You too, Coven Mother. To the house, for grounding.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she stiffened her spine. The defiant gesture helped to mask her rapid breathing, but I was willing to bet her pulse was pounding as hard as mine, harder maybe, because she wasn’t on her home turf. “I’ll stay to clean up,” she said.

  David’s gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even look for the tiny shake of my head. He knew I didn’t want Teresa anywhere near the circle we’d created for magical workings. She was not my friend. There’d been no legitimate reason for her to attend our Samhain working. She’d only been present to help banish the satyr because she’d wanted me to fail.

  David turned to her warder. “Get her out of here, Ethan.”

  Warders had their own rules, their own hierarchies, separate from witchy politics and aspirations. We stood on David’s property. His wards protected this land. His witch had initiated the Samhain working. Therefore, David’s word controlled. Ethan slipped his fingers beneath Teresa’s elbow and guided her toward the farmhouse. Her familiar trailed behind, looking lost in the dim light.

  “You,” David said, jutting his head toward Neko. “Get everyone into dry clothes. Make sure the witches eat.”

  Ordinarily, Neko would have pressed for David’s permission to gut the refrigerator, to devour whatever fine cheese we might have on hand and to plunder the pantry for high-end delicacies he’d previously conned us into buying for his snacking pleasure. I realized exactly how serious things were when my familiar merely nodded and disappeared into the night.

  That left David, Clara, and me.

  “You’re okay?” David asked, taking in both of us with a glance.

  I nodded. “What happened to Hecate’s Court?”

  David’s jaw tightened. “They left as soon as the satyr manifested.”

  “What?” I was shocked.

  “Their purpose was to make sure the magicarium completed a working. Calling the satyr sufficed.”

  “He could have killed us! He nearly raped Cassie!”

  “That’s not the Court’s problem.”

  Technically, he was right. But the Court should have felt some obligation to aid their fellow witches. That was only human nature.

  Right. Like the Court was bound by common human decency. Somewhere, some time, some member of Hecate’s Court might slip up and show a hint of emotion. But I’d never seen a hint of ordinary human feeling from any of them in the past. They had one job: keeping peace among all recognized witches. Their word was final in all disputes. Beyond that, they refused to become involved.

  “They left that behind,” David said. He nodded toward the marble altar. A single sheet of parchment was plastered to the stone.

  “What the—” I pried it loose. The document was clearly ensorcelled—it didn’t tear, even though it was soaked through. And the ornate lettering was cast in some magical ink, a formula that didn’t run in the rain. I skimmed through the formal language to find the key phrase at the bottom: “All magicarium classes must be conducted on a regular schedule throughout said academic term, or said charter shall be immediately and permanently revoked.”

  More interference from the Court. More intimidation directed at the Jane Madison Academy.

  It hardly mattered, though. I fully intended to conduct my classes on a regular basis. I didn’t need dictates from Hecate’s Court to do what was right. I handed the document to David, who folded it in three parts and tucked it into his pocket.

  Shaking my head, I rested my hand against the marble altar. It felt absolutely ordinary—like any other rain-washed stone. There wasn’t a hint of malevolence, not a whisper of the evil that had burst through with the satyr. Suddenly exhausted, I asked, “Where did that thing come from?”

  “I told you,” Clara answered before David could. “A hellmouth. That’s what I learned in the course I’m auditing.”

  “Course?” I asked.

  “Urban Planning and the Ancient World. At the University of Maryland."

  I shook my head. “Why are you taking classes at the University of Maryland?”

  “Now that you’ve officially launched the magicarium, Jeanette, I want to be close by. In case you need help with your more esoteric courses. And as long as I’m on the east coast, I figured I’d take a class to help me plan Oak Canyon Coven’s nootuh.”

  “New what?” Obviously, the banishing spell had taken more out of me than I thought. I seemed to be losing my hearing. I glanced at David for clarification, but he only shrugged.

  “Nootuh,” Clara enunciated. “N-W-T-A. Nucleus with tentacles attached. It’s a form of planned community. We’ll have a central building for communal activities—meals and entertainment and rituals—that’s the nucleus. But each of us will have our own living quarters, our own private spaces.”

  “The tentacles. Got it.” I turned to David and faked a sweet voice. “Did you know Clara was studying nearby?”

  His scowl told me he’d known. And Clara’s adult education campaign fell squarely in the category of things where he refused to act as middleman between my mother and me. With a brittle smile, I turned back to my Clara. “So, your professor at the University of Maryland just happened to feature local hellmouths in his class?”

  “Professor Kipperman didn’t feature hellmouths. This week’s lecture was about necropolises, cities of the dead built near ancient settlements. Th
e lost necropolis of Epidauros in ancient Greece was built around a perfect circle of cleared earth. Scholars theorize the villagers excavated a hellmouth, a way for heroes to banish creatures back to Hades.”

  I shook my head, unable to link mundane archeology with modern witchcraft. “And that relates to my ritual circle how?”

  “We had a homework assignment, choosing a modern town and comparing its plan to an ancient one. I chose Parkersville.”

  Everything became clear. “And let me guess. When you map Epidauros onto Parkersville, you end up with a hellmouth right here.”

  “Oh Jeanette! I knew you’d be receptive once I explained! That’s what the turquoise means on the edge of your aura.”

  David finally came to my rescue after my mother folded me into a sodden embrace. “Come on, Clara,” he said with a weary shrug. “You need to ground yourself too. Head back to the house, and fill everyone else in on Epidauros and the hellmouth. We’ll catch up in a minute.”

  I barely waited until Clara was out of earshot before I hissed, “You don’t actually believe her!”

  “Of course not.” He spread his hands above the centerstone, not quite touching the marble. “But I didn’t want her to worry.”

  “Worry about what?”

  “The real source of the satyr.”

  “Which is?”

  “Norville Pitt.”

  The name sliced a greasy spiral into my belly. The Head Clerk of Hecate’s Court had been a thorn in my side since I’d founded my magicarium. More than just a thorn, actually—Pitt’s manipulation had nearly brought down the Academy not two months earlier.

  Pitt and David had a tortured history together; each man had vowed to destroy the other. David and I had alerted Hecate’s Court to Pitt’s unlawful activities, including his taking countless bribes. But we’d only succeeded after David had been driven to the trembling edge of madness, building the case.

  I tried to swallow a nasty taste in my mouth before I croaked, “What about Pitt?”

  “He had something to do with that satyr. No,” he said to my frantic look around the circle. “He wasn’t here. He wouldn’t dare set foot on this land now, not with the inquest pending before Hecate’s Court.”

  The inquest. The official inquiry into Pitt’s crimes. The investigation was set to begin in three days, the first Monday of the witches’ new year.

  David said, “He couldn’t make the satyr materialize on his own. He’s a failed warder and a washed-up clerk, not a witch. But for just a moment, when the lightning struck, when the cordon broke… I sensed him here.”

  “Was he working through Teresa?” The Washington Coven Mother and Pitt had teamed up before. That was all part of the case the Court would take up next week.

  David shook his head tightly. “I don’t think so. She had her own reasons to keep you from succeeding. But I saw the look on her face when the satyr manifested. She and Ethan were as surprised as everyone else.”

  “And she stepped forward,” I said grudgingly. “She helped me banish the thing when no one else could.” I extended my hands over the altar yet again, struggling to capture the signature David had sensed. I closed my eyes to better center myself, taking three deep breaths as I reached out with my powers.

  Nothing. Nothing at all, not even when I forced myself to drag up old memories of Pitt, to hold his oily presence in my mind as I searched for the faintest sign that he’d been involved with the satyr.

  I sighed and let my power dissipate. I knew my next question wouldn’t go over well, but I had to ask it. “Are you absolutely certain—?”

  “Yes,” David interrupted.

  “It’s just that with the inquest starting on Monday… With your history—”

  “I said I’m certain!” David slammed his fist down on the altar, even angrier than I’d feared he would be. He winced at the sudden movement, though, and pressed his palm against his ribs.

  “You’re hurt!” I said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “David—”

  “I’m fine,” he repeated. “I’m a hell of a lot better than Pitt will be when I get my hands on him.”

  “Let the Court handle it,” I warned.

  “He brought that thing onto my property.”

  I knew better than to start with if he did. Instead, I said, “He’s trying to provoke you. He wants you to break the injunction. He wants the Court to find against you before they ever get close to deciding his case.”

  “He could have killed—”

  I shook my head and settled a finger against his lips. “He didn’t.” David started to protest again, but I pressed harder. “He didn’t,” I repeated. “We’re safe. Pitt failed.” When David showed no sign of relaxing, I leaned in to brush a kiss against his cheek. “Besides,” I said, purposely making my voice light. “You have much more important things to worry about.”

  “What could be more important than—”

  “Clara,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Clara back in town.” Another squeeze. “Clara taking classes at the University of Maryland, practically in our own back yard.” One more clutch of my fingers. “Clara jabbering on and on and on, until my only choice is to go crazy or turn her into a toad.”

  I felt the moment he made the conscious decision to set aside his tension. His shimmering anger crumbled, releasing his shoulders, relaxing his spine. After all, the satyr was gone. We’d defeated Pitt. Again.

  David curled a finger beneath my chin, tilting my lips toward his. “She only makes you crazy because you let her.”

  I pulled back enough to protest. “What am I supposed to say when she starts raving about ancient Greek hellmouths?”

  “How about, ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’”

  “Like that would work!”

  “Try it,” he said.

  I laughed and tightened my arms around his waist. I was surprised when he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. “You are hurt!” I said.

  “I’ll live. That thing probably cracked a rib or two.”

  “Let’s go,” I said, setting a fast pace across the grass. “I want Neko to take a look at you. He can tape you up, at least.” The fact that David didn’t protest made me realize just how injured he was.

  I only started to relax as we approached the house. The curtains were open in the front room, and warm light splashed onto the porch. Inside, Neko was skirting the coffee table, balancing a tray that looked like it held enough food to feed a football team. “Looks like a trip to the grocery store is at the top of tomorrow’s agenda,” I said to David.

  “But first, you have something more important to do,” a voice said. A shadow rose from the top of the porch steps, sleek and graceful as a panther in the night.

  David’s hand tightened on mine, but he didn’t try to edge in front of me. I blinked hard, and the shadow resolved into a human shape, a woman’s body. Teresa.

  “And what might that be?” I asked, edging my words with defiance. “What’s more important than caring for my magicarium?”

  Teresa took the steps slowly, like she was sizing me up for a fight. “Paying your debts,” she said, closing the distance between us. “Jane Madison. Magistrix and witch. I hereby claim the right of benefaction.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “For the everlasting love of Hecate,” I swore, not entirely succeeding in keeping my curse under my breath. I planted my hands on my hips and said to Teresa, “You have got to be kidding.”

  “I never ‘kid’ about witchcraft.”

  Of course she didn’t. Not when she was the strongest Coven Mother in the Eastern Empire. Not when she’d held that position since she was freaking ten years old. Not when she had me over an astral barrel.

  “Fine,” I said. “But not until after I’ve checked on my students. And had a chance to change.”

  “Of course,” she answered, her lips compressed into a superior smile. I couldn’t help but notice her dress was dry and every hair sat in perfect place on her head. She’d used m
agic to pull herself together, blatantly grandstanding that she had power to burn even after our near-disastrous working in the circle.

  I brushed past her, barely resisting the urge to toss my dripping hair over my shoulder, to leave a trail of fresh raindrops across her immaculate handiwork. David followed close behind, guarding my back as Teresa, Ethan, and Connie also came inside.

  Neko glanced up the instant we passed over the threshold. He’d been setting out food, piling treats high on the coffee table, but as soon as I entered the room he ceded all of his attention to me. I shook my head at his silent question. I didn’t need him to serve me. Not yet.

  I was more concerned about Cassie.

  She crouched on a wooden chair that had obviously been dragged in from the kitchen, pressed into service because Cassie’s soaked clothes were covered with mud. Her head was buried in her arms, and she slowly rocked back and forth. Tupa huddled beside her, one small hand balanced on her knee. Zach stood over both of them, his face drawn as he supported his broken arm with his good one.

  Everyone else in the room studiously avoided looking at them, giving them some semblance of privacy in the crowded space. But I crossed over to my student, ignoring the fact that my dress left a wet trail on the hardwood floor, on the well-placed throw rug. “Cassie,” I said, kneeling before her and reaching for her shoulder.

  She flinched before I could touch her. But she stopped rocking.

  “Cassie,” I said again, dropping my hand. “I’m so sorry. Let’s get you to a doctor. There’s a hospital in Pine Ridge.”

  “No,” she said, and her voice was thick, clogged with tears.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. Even if she looked like a naive little girl, she was a full-grown witch. She had autonomy over her body, just as she had the right to control her magic. She could decide if she wanted medical attention.

  “You have to eat something,” I said. And Neko manifested by my side, holding a laden plate in one hand and a mug of fresh apple cider in the other. I glanced at the food—treats from the Cake Walk bakery, sent along by my best friend Melissa to celebrate the official launch of the Jane Madison Academy.