Old Magic (12 page)

He has a funny look on his face that spells disbelief in big bold letters.

“Humor me,” I plead softly with a smile. “All you have to do is meet me by the creek in the forest, you know the place. I took you there once. A little before midnight. Oh yeah, and wear black.”

“I’m afraid to ask why.”

I smile. “To merge with the dark and not frighten the animals, so the forest will remain calm and in harmony with the moon. Oh, and the four essential elements. We’re going to need them.”

One eye narrows more so than the other, his head tilts in a disbelieving, are-you-all-there kind of look. “What about the other way?”

“What?”

“You said Jillian found two ways to end the curse. One is death to the sorcerer. What’s the other? Maybe we could try that.”

I bite my lower lip. It’s just a childish nervous gesture. I rarely do it anymore. How do I explain the other way? Jarrod would run a thousand kilometers if I told him, laughing all the way. “Um, well,” I begin tentatively, searching for the right words. Ultimately I decide against it altogether. There is just no way we could do it anyway. “It’s a stupid idea. It would never work.”

His shoulders lift, his mouth turns down at the edges, apparently accepting my explanation.

“It has to be the spell, Jarrod.”

“I don’t know, Kate. It’s so . . . ridiculous.”

“No, it’s just a matter of courage.” Testing him could become an interesting pastime. It gets to him where nothing else does. “Well, do you have the courage?”

“I know what you’re doing, Kate.” His tone is sour, but I can see his curiosity is starting to kick in.

“Are you in?” I goad further.

“Just tell me where to get the goat’s blood, without having to kill a goat.”

Jarrod

I can’t believe I agreed to do this. Goat’s blood, for goodness’ sake. What on earth am I thinking? I’ve lost it. I’ve completely lost it.

Well, seeing how I’ve already lost it, I guess there’s nothing left to risk. Except perhaps the remnants of my sanity.

The house is sleeping; it’s almost time to leave. But it’s so quiet, I have to climb out my window if I’m going to sneak out without waking Mom or Dad. With a bit of luck they might be sleeping deeply. They haven’t had much of that in the last couple of days.

I tumble bum-first out of the window, scraping my arm against a cracked timber frame, landing with a loud thump and whack in a pile of dry, crackly leaf residue. I glance up, glad it’s a single-story house, and rub my sore elbow. No lights go on so at least I didn’t wake anyone, or break another bone.

Outside it’s already freezing, and it’s only around 11:20 p.m. Just enough time I reckon to cycle to Kate’s and tread through the scrub to the place by the creek where I have to meet her. She told me not to use a flashlight unless I really have to. The full moon tonight is supposed to be enough. And my senses. Rely on them, she said.

She has to be kidding. My senses are on red alert, nothing is working except fear and adrenalin. And that predicted full moon has decided it’s not coming out. Who could blame it? It’s not stupid.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

I feel for the jar of goat’s blood, tucked neatly into my shirt pocket beneath my black ribbed sweater. I groan, but only in relief, the jar is still intact. It should be after all I went through this afternoon to find some. The town vet gave me a list of farms with goats, but assured me milk would be easier to obtain than blood, then looked at me as if I weren’t all there. He wasn’t far wrong. Striking out on the farms, whose owners had at least enjoyed a good belly laugh at my expense, I ended up at the slaughterhouse where I had a nightmare of a time convincing the attendant it was goat’s blood I needed for my biology assignment, and not the usual animal organs such as pig’s brains, or livers or eyes. He assured me I was making a mistake, had somehow got my instructions muddled, but seeing how my little brother came so close to death recently, made an exception in the case of my sanity.

I cycle harder at the memory: At least this is something I can do without falling over. And I need to get some speed up to tackle the hills leading up to Kate’s. The streets are quiet. In fact, there isn’t a car or anything in sight. Which is good for me. No one will see me in this ludicrous getup—all black from my toes to my head, just as Kate ordered, except for the small red insignia of the NBA Chicago Bulls on the front of Casey’s beanie. But the air is so icy, this close to winter, I decide to risk the slight oversight on Kate’s instructions.

By the time I make it to Jillian’s shop I’m exhausted, having walked my bike up the last steep incline. I leave it out the front and head for the rain forest track that Kate once showed me. Of course in the dark I can’t find it easily and have to use my flashlight. It’s hardly a track at all, and after a few minutes my heart starts thundering. If the noise my feet are making crunching the millions of dry fallen leaves doesn’t alarm the forest animals, surely the sound of my thumping heart will throw out the harmony between the forest and the moon. Or whatever it was Kate said.

It turns out newly formed spiderwebs with fat juicy spiders in their centers, just waiting for easy prey like me, are my worst enemy. I keep my head buried, hands spread wide in front of me as I knock down one web after another. With every step adrenalin pumps harder, making my pulse go berserk. Sweat forms everywhere even though the temperature keeps dropping. I suddenly wonder if I’m even heading in the right direction. A seasoned bush-walker wouldn’t attempt a forest walk in these conditions, at this time of night, without a compass.

These particular thoughts make me even more edgy. My breathing starts coming in rapid short bursts, exhaling smoky puffs into the chilling air. What if I end up way off course and miss the creek altogether? What if I find a gully or ravine instead? Hypothermia will set in. I could freeze to death before anyone finds me, probably in two or three days’ time.

Panic sets in, destroying my nerves like acid on sugar. I’m drawn into making a decision. I can’t continue. I spin around in a mad swirl, too fast. Which way is which? I become disoriented. It’s at this moment I see a faint glimmer in the distance. At first I think it’s a fire, but it lacks a familiar orange glow. Whatever it is, my breathing instantly slows. It has to be Kate. No one else would be out here in the middle of the night, except perhaps an axe-wielding murderer.

I grope my way toward the light, calming with every step, so that by the time I reach the spot, I have taken on a transient image of physical control.

“You made it,” she says, as if she entertained some pretty realistic doubts.

I shrug, attempting to look unconcerned. If there’s one thing that hits deep, it’s Kate’s lack of faith in me. She thinks I’m a spineless wimp. I don’t mean the accidents, she’s not shallow, she’s looking deeper than that—right into my soul. “Sure. Whatd’ya think? I said I’d come.”

She has a wand in her hand that she points in a wide arch. “I’ve already cast the circle. The candles are its perimeter. You can only enter at the place directly behind me.”

I go along with her, even though her words send an icy chill along my spine, and do exactly as she says. I end up sitting cross-legged opposite her. It’s then I start to absorb everything around me. The creek is here, familiar and very close. I can touch the crystal water if I stretch my fingers far enough to the right. A steamy mist hovers low over its surface. It looks spooky and surreal like a scene from a fantasy movie. There are very small flames coming from heaps of white candles burning smoke-free in an odd-shaped circle surrounding us. Strangely, they don’t appear to be burning down, either. On Kate’s right side sits a gold box, shaped like a small treasure chest. The lid is open and inside I see a perfectly smooth pink crystal, a silver goblet, a pair of scissors, a length of blue cord, and a few other oddities. My eyes feel huge in my head and I decide not to investigate anymore. There is a putrid smell coming from somewhere. I really don’t want to ask about it. Yet, it is the light that is strangest of all. Other than the small flames burning around us there seems to be no other light source, but the entire area, like a dome, is filled with a strange white light, as if the very air is glowing.

She sees the wonder on my face. “It’s just a bit of magic Jillian taught me,” she says softly, her voice smooth and melodious. I envy her calmness. It makes me feel more gutless than ever.

“Do you like it?”

What does she want me to say? “Er, yeah,” I stumble. “How . . . ?”

She merely smiles. “It’s complicated, and I’m not sure you’re ready to hear it. Einstein would love it though.”

I have to be content with that, though I want to ask more. I start relaxing a little at the evidence of her magic, and start to hope. If Kate can do this thing with the light, and there truly is a curse on my family, perhaps she can solve my problems after all.

“Are you ready, Jarrod? It’s almost midnight.”

I nod slightly. “Yeah, I guess.”

She smiles again, and I start to unwind, my pulse finally slowing down to something resembling normal. She’s in her element, totally in control. Some of it brushes off on me. “You will have to remove the beanie, and strip down to your jeans.”

My head shoots forward, eyes the size of eggs. “Strip?”

“Not everything!” She laughs. “Just the top part.”

My face forms a smirk. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just, well . . . it’s like two degrees out here.”

She frowns and looks puzzled. “Are you cold?”

Her question, issued as a challenge, has me reassessing the situation quickly. I realize our breath isn’t steaming anymore, and my fingers aren’t numb. Even my toes are comfortable now. I touch the skin on my face. Amazingly, it’s not icy cold as it was only moments earlier, but warm. I look at her, intently. “How did you do this?”

“I didn’t really. I have no effect on the weather, though I’ve tried lots of times. It’s the light that’s generating a little heat, enough at least to take the chill out of the air.”

“Wow,” is all I can say. My mouth is a desert.

“Did you bring the blood?”

This brings back my attention quickly. I reach into my shirt pocket with a bit of a smirk, remembering the embarrassing afternoon chase, and withdraw the half-filled jar, all the attendant would give me. I hope it’s enough.

“Excellent,” she says, relieving my fears.

“What are you going to do with it?”

She reaches behind herself and drags round the source of the putrid smell—a small bowl with something squishy and brown and slimy inside. Carefully, she pours the goat’s blood over the top of the foul-smelling mixture and stirs it with a plastic spoon. “Jillian’s vision of snakes circling your body means that evil spirits surround you. You know,” she remarks in an offhand manner, “you probably carry them with you all the time. Snakes are just their mortal form.”

Exactly what I want to hear.

“The odor produced by the goat’s blood mixed with fish heart, liver, and toad’s entrails is supposed to,” she adds softly, leaning forward, “hopefully, get rid of them. At least long enough for our magic to work. It’s a temporary tactic, but if the spell works tonight, it might help get rid of the snakes on a more permanent basis.”

“Really?” is all I can manage. Vivid images of snakes circling my body suddenly make my skin crawl as if these fictitious snakes are real. I lived on this farm about six years ago that used to be a horse stud before Dad decided to try his hand at growing turf. It was twenty-two hectares of prime river flats. We saw the first snake the day we moved in. By the end of the week, we were ready to move out. They came up from the river as if they were drawn to us. Must’ve been the dry spell, the neighbors told us, that lured them to the farmhouse. We took a huge loss on that place, couldn’t sell it fast enough, especially after I woke up with three snakes in my bed, and had threatened to never sleep again. Just thinking about the memory can still spook me. That impulse to run starts thumping away inside again.

Kate finishes stirring and lays the stick down beside the bowl, which she pushes just a little out of reach, but still within the circle of flames. At least now it’s a little easier to live with. “Relax,” she says softly. “I won’t hurt you, Jarrod.” Her eyes, now brilliant sapphires, hold mine in a kind of promise. “Ever.”

I’m glad to hear it. “What now?”

“I’m going to cleanse you.” Her words stun me.

One eye narrows as I try to absorb this bit of information, recalling her request that I strip down to my jeans. “Excuse me?”

“Of all evil.”

The curse, of course. Was I really thinking she meant a sponge bath? As entertaining as that would probably be in a cozy environment, the thought of it out here in the middle of the night is somehow a lot less exciting. “How?” I ask quickly to hide my embarrassment.

“With the help of the elements—earth, air, water, and fire.”

Is she serious? The words sound like dialogue from a cheap-thrills horror movie. “You’ve been watching too much television.”

Her reply is straight to the point. “We don’t own one.”

“Okay, then tell me this. How are you going to get these four elements to help you? Ask them nicely?”

She stares at me with slits for eyes. She’s mad as hell and I can’t hold her stare. “Sorry,” I mutter.

“This isn’t going to work without some cooperation from you, Jarrod. Sarcasm won’t do anything except cause a block. A cleansing spell is far from easy.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“All right then.” She’s still angry and I really am sorry now. I remember she’s doing this thing for me. “Try not to question everything, just flow with me. Okay?”

I nod, contrite.

And then she says, “Now take off your beanie, sweater, and anything else under there.”

My nerves are jumping but I do what I’m told, laying the clothes down in a small pile by my side. Heat floods my face as I feel her gaze on me. Though far from naked, I may as well be, the way I’m feeling right now. I feel like a scrawny bag of bones. I try to look anywhere but at Kate. She’s doing something with her hands, and I recognize with an odd sensation in my gut that they’re raised in prayer. She’s speaking too, but it’s not to me. Her head is tilted backward, and I can’t distinguish her words. After a few seconds of this she shifts into a kneeling position and grabs her scissors, taking them toward my head.