Chapter Ten #2
That sobering warning apparently got through to the headmistress, because she sounded a hell of a lot more serious when she spoke next.
“Yes, of course,” she answered Lucretia before her voice became a little less accommodating when she directed it to me. “Do you have a mirror?”
“Not quite yet. ETA around twenty minutes.”
“How old is it?”
I shrugged, realized she couldn’t see me and then cleared my throat with a muttered, “maybe around fifty or so years, maybe? A member of the coven said they knew an antiques dealer who’d have something that would work for our needs.”
Though truthfully, it had been RJ’s idea to visit the antique shop.
Apparently he’d been helping his friend, Henner, sell off Betanya’s possessions little by little over the years.
It wasn’t as though I could blame Henner either.
By all indications, it had looked like his grandmother was dead, slaughtered in the prime of her life by an insane vampire.
But unlike my family, Betanya had managed to scrape by with her pulse intact.
Once she’d learned that RJ was fairly sure the antique shop still had her mirror in stock (and she wasn’t surprised as she’d spelled it so it would only ever belong to her), she planned to reclaim it.
And that was just as well because an artifact steeped in the ambient power of a witch’s home had already primed it to be enchanted.
I just had to do the heavy lifting. As to why Betanya hadn’t already claimed the mirror?
She’d thought the $2,000 price tag was too much.
Apparently, even though the mirror could only belong to Betanya long-term, it was still subject to being overpriced.
I tapped the speakerphone button when Aurea began speaking again, voice calm and authoritative as she told me what to do. For just a second, I could almost picture the woman who’d taught me runecraft as a much younger witch.
“You’re going to need Mystic Veil.”
Poppy perked up from her position on the floor.
She’d been uncharacteristically quiet, staring at her fingers as though she didn’t recognize the things attached to her palm.
RJ and Finn were speaking to her in low voices, though I couldn’t pick out whatever well-meaning drivel they were trying to pour into her ear.
I was sure the only responsible thing RJ could say was for all of them to abandon me to my fate and pray the disaster avoided their sweet, safe little suburban hell.
“I have some Mystic Veil,” Poppy said. “I always keep at least a small vial on hand, ever since we rescued Betanya. I figured it if came in handy once...”
“Now you’re thinking like a witch,” I said, trying for an encouraging smile. I wasn’t sure I managed it. I wasn’t well-versed in smiling. Or any other kind or compassionate action, for that matter.
Spots of color rose in Poppy’s cheeks and she gave me a sheepish smile. “Thanks.” Then she raised her voice to be heard by Aurea. “What next?”
If Aurea was bothered by the interjection, she didn’t let it show. She paused for only a beat before continuing as though she’d never stopped.
“Mystic Veil will make the surface of the mirror more pliable. I don’t generally need the help, but any push to get a novice through.”
I clamped my teeth down over a tart reply. It wouldn’t do me any good. And comparatively, I was a novice. I’d never had the same aptitude for this magic as Susan. And she was long gone, so she couldn’t teach me the craft. That meant a cranky convict would have to do as a teacher in a pinch.
“And after that?”
“Apply the Mystic Veil to the frame of the mirror. An etched surface or rune-carved frame would help as well, but beggars cannot be choosers. If it is just a pane of silvered glass, I recommend being very careful. Your blood mixing with that combination would make for some unfortunate results.”
I flinched. I could only imagine what the gypsy’s muddled magic would do when it met my unstable power. I’d already hurt one Morton this week. I wouldn’t make it two.
“Give me the incantation.”
She did, pausing so I could parrot the spell back to her until she was convinced I’d mastered every syllable.
By the time she was satisfied, the rest of the coven was arriving back from their respective errands.
Wanda looked exhausted, pale, and a little shaky.
I was impressed she was on her feet at all.
The mutant creature Murrain had sent was the combination of a komodo dragon and a demon.
It was the bastard child of Dr. Moreau and the Fly.
Add a little of any rendered magic to a creature, and you created an abomination.
Murrain must have been stuffing that one full for some time for it to get that big.
It took an even more impressive witch to hold it at bay long enough for me to kill it.
Betanya and Olga shuffled into sight after Wanda, holding the mirror in question lengthwise between them. I held my breath until they’d propped it against the opposite wall. Only then did I get a clear look at myself.
Lydia’s body seemed shrunken, my worry and weariness curling her slim shoulders forward.
Dark circles had etched themselves beneath her vividly blue eyes, so they gleamed out from the sunken pits they’d become.
I could suddenly understand why everyone but Angelo was putting a careful distance between themselves and this wraith.
No, most wraiths looked better than I did right now.
I looked like a feral cat, ready to go for the eyes of anyone near enough to take the hit.
Wanda approached me, casting a contemptuous glance down at my phone.
Clearly, Wanda knew the headmistress. Knew her and didn’t like her.
RJ flanked me on the other side, reaching out to lay a hand on my shoulder.
The reassuring squeeze he gave my arm thawed something icy that had settled like a nauseating weight in my stomach.
At least there was one person who had faith in me.
Though it was largely due to his ignorance and puppyish nature.
Still, in a pinch, I would take the comfort I could get.
“You can do this,” he said.
I tossed Lydia’s hair over one shoulder.
It fell like an inky curtain, settling with a reassuring weight against my back.
The gesture was distinctly me. It felt wrong on this body, but that was reassuring too.
I wasn’t just a ghost in a meat puppet. I was me.
And Indigo Hallewell was a dangerous bitch when motivated.
“Of course I can.”
Poppy offered me a vial of shimmering blue liquid.
I took it after a beat of hesitation and crossed over to the mirror in two strides.
It was a gorgeous piece of work. Large and framed in carved mahogany.
Enchantments had been expertly woven into each spiraling design, done in detail so fine, it beggared even a vampire’s keen eyesight to spot them all.
And the possessive spell was definitely there.
Yep, it was no wonder this mirror had just sat at the antique store for as long as it had.
The potion gathered in every groove when I passed a damp finger over each painstakingly wrought design. I wasn’t sure if Betanya had bought the frame and altered it or if she’d done the masterful piece herself. I could only be grateful for it. The embedded enchantment would make this easier.
“It’s superb work,” I said as I glanced over at her with a nod.
Betanya smiled gently. “Thank you, Indigo.”
I blinked away the fierce, burning desire to cry.
It was the first kind word anyone in Scapegrace had for me.
I turned back to the mirror, brushing my fingers over the mirror’s surface, muttering the Latin incantation under my breath.
The surface barely rippled. I tried again with similar results.
The desire to cry redoubled. We were going to die horribly, and it was all my fault.
“Damn it,” I whispered. “Damn it, damn it, damn it...”
“What’s the problem?” Finn asked, watching me with concern.
“I can’t get through,” I muttered, shaking my head. “What am I doing wrong?”
It was a rhetorical question, but the voice on the other end of the phone answered, anyway.
“Your intent must be as clear as your reflection,” Aurea said primly. “Your mind isn’t clear enough.”
Of course it’s not! I wanted to scream. She was cloistered in a cell somewhere, safe and under guard. I was a sitting duck out in the open. Poppy was certain her grandmother had at least one mirror we could step through. The problem was reaching that mirror. So far, we weren’t off to a good start.
“I’m under a lot of stress,” I gritted out. “You’ll have to be patient with me. I don’t even know what my destination looks like.”
“Irrelevant,” Aurea said. “It’s not about the location. Only mediocre witches care about knowing what the location looks like. It’s about the bridge between. It’s about centering yourself, Indigo. Find the fuel for your magic, and cast like you mean it.”
I was going to send a curse her way, and I’d definitely mean it.
“I align with fire magic,” I said in an undertone. “And I’m not feeling all that fiery at the moment.”
“What’s fire magic?” Finn asked.
Wanda gave the boy an indulgent smile. I swore she was a minute away from pinching his cheek and slipping him a twenty so he could go get candy. Nevermind that he was sixteen or something. “A witch’s powers tend to align with one element over the others,” I explained.
“Right,” Finn said with a nod. “Astrid is aligned with air, I think.”
“That’s common for white witches,” I answered. “Fire is passion, movement, change, vitality. Getting in touch with one’s own body.”
Fire magic was about being present in the moment and enjoying it to its fullest. Yet, I felt so far from joyful that I’d landed on another continent. To my surprise, it was Angelo who came to my rescue once more. He stepped forward, offering me a hand, one eyebrow raised.