The scent of magic threaded its way through the narrow tree trunks and toadstools. It was the silent hour between midnight and dawn, and , though the foxes, snakes and rabbits had settled down to sleep, the aroma wafted its way down to their furtive little burrows and hidey-holes. They smelt it, little noses twitching and they turned below the earth, restless, somehow. They quailed as footsteps reverberated above their tiny heads and nestled closer to their parents, not understanding, but dreading quietly.
Two witches slithered through the murky woods. One of them was me. I carried a torch and swung it across the ground so that rocks and roots were shown in high relief. Elizabeth had already tripped twice, so we had agreed that candle light was not practical. She carried the incense sticks and our little poppets. Behind us trailed Kitten, my hellcat.
As we went further and further away from my house, the smell of magic faded from my nostrils. Both Elizabeth and I smelt of it. Smoke and rosemary and incense. It made me uneasy. The smell fading meant we were too far from our circle. Too far from safety. Vulnerable.
As we walked, I picked leaves, crumbling them and smoothing the sticky juice on my wrists like perfume. I fidgeted a lot when I was nervous.
We knew the way easily enough by now. The long overgrown path was narrow and winding, choked with roots and plants. I fought my way through with a stick.
“Katie, put the stick down,” Elizabeth whispered over her shoulder. Her dark eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Someone’s going to hear you tramping around.”
“Did you deactivate the Cobweb?” I shot back. Our house was protected with several magical enchantments. The Cobweb was an enchantment were thin bands of magic wrapped around our protective circle. Anyone who touched a line was frozen in place. We redirected the bands with mirrors, creating holes large enough for us to crawl through.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course”
“Then we’ll be fine!” I hissed. Elizabeth and I weren’t actually supposed to use magic yet. We were only Grunts so far, not proper Apprentices.
We walked on in silence. It was so cold. My face felt raw, as if the vicious wind had stripped off a layer of skin from my face. Deep inside my pockets, my hands shook. All the trees that looked normal and as familiar as old friends in the daylight, the beeches, crab apples and hawthorns, seemed tall and menacing at night. I touched the trunk of an ancient oak to try and calm myself. The wood felt cold and as rough. When Kitten yowled from behind me, I jumped out of my skin.
“Katie! Can you shut that hellcat up? And stop being so jumpy.”
“If you stop being so snappy,” I muttered. Under my breath. Even Elizabeth was more intimidating than usual tonight.
When we reached the clearing, I took the candles out of my bag and set them up in a rough circle shape. Elizabeth lit them with a box of matches she had stolen out of the kitchen. Kitten sat outside the circle like an ancient carving of himself, watchful and sinister. As my familiar, he would kill anyone who tried to interrupt the spell. It doesn’t sound possible, a cat killing a human, but Kitten was the size of a small jaguar with the same exotic dappled coat and quietly rippling muscles.
I swallowed. I still wasn’t entirely sure that we were doing the right thing, but I stepped over the ring of flickering light with care and then sat down gingerly. The grass was wet and my converses were soaking. I fidgeted nervously, until Elizabeth quelled me with a dark look. Then I had to sit still miserably, as damp fingers crept up my jeans. She cleared her throat. Somewhere in the woods, I thought an owl hooted. Elizabeth closed her eyes and let her head fall back, exposing her slim throat, which glowed silver. The moon was waxing that night and the shimmering light dished itself over every surface that wasn’t illuminated by the golden spill of the candles. We were like a mosaic in gold and silver.
“Goddess of the Earth and Triple Moon,” Elizabeth chanted, her voice deep and alluring. We waited three seconds, and then I spoke.
“Our Lady. We come here, on this night to offer you blood in exchange for our heart’s desires.” I whispered, my voice cracking on the last note. A cold wind made the candles flicker and ruffled the stray stands of my hair. Elizabeth’s features seemed sharp and menacing; there were dark shadows under her eyes and cheekbones, the rest of her face illuminated in harsh flickering candle light. I shivered. We each stabbed a stick of incense into the nearest flame. As the flames licked up the little stick, the spicy aroma filled the clearing. The scent of magic. I could see the loops of smoke coiling up towards the dark overhead canopy.
I placed my poppet, a doll with a little face etched into the wax, in the ceramic bowl. Elizabeth did likewise. We each yanked out a few of our hairs and wrapped them around the dolls.
“Lord, consort of our Lady, we present to you the sacrifice.” I took a glass jar out of the bag. In it was a spider. Elizabeth put her hand in, letting the spider crawl onto it. She brushed it off into the bowl. I lifted a stone and crushed it.
“Lady, we give to you our blood as an offering. In return, you will repay us. You will give us our heart’s desires! Nothing shall be denied us!” The wind increased in volume. I could hear it whistling around the trees, a hungry screaming animal. Kitten sat back on his haunches and yowled, a high, eerie noise. His eyes were rolling.
I picked up the knife with shaking fingers. The hilt was cold and smooth. I wondered if it really was human bone, as Elizabeth had told me. Best not to think of that. The wind intensified. My hair blew around my face, but I didn’t push it out of my eyes. I was numb with horror at what I was about to do. Elizabeth’s hair was pulled back severely. Her eyes snapped open, but they were unfocused, and glassy.
“Human blood.” She had to shriek over the wind. I closed my eyes and did it quickly, a tiny pin prick of pain. I handed the knife to Elizabeth. Deftly, she pricked the heel of her hand and let a drop of blood fall into the bowl. Abruptly, everything stopped. The wind had screamed itself out. Nothing moved in the woods. The stars, the silent sentinels of the forest looked down on us coldly.
“Nothing shall be denied us.” Elizabeth repeated softly, and there was a note of triumph in her voice that scared me. She lit a match and dropped it into the bowl, leaving our poppets to burn.
“So mote it be,” I said, watching the flames lick over my doll’s face. The candles went out.
