32. Forgotten Spells
THIRTY-TWO
FORGOTTEN SPELLS
The shaping of a pure-blooded witch or wizard begins in early childhood, making it essential for arcane education to start as soon as possible.
A disciplined young mind is fertile soil, ready to absorb the most potent magic.
Foundational spells, passed down through generations, should be instilled from the moment a child can speak.
Memorizing these core spells safeguards our legacy. A young witch or wizard, armed with these essentials, is prepared for any challenge. Let no child be left untrained, for in their mastery lies the future of our kind.
–EXCERPT FROM THE ARCANE ELITE: UPHOLDING THE SANCTITY OF WITCH BLOODLINES
Minerva was forgetting things. She couldn’t recall the name of the herb in the tincture that Lucretia concocted to ease her arthritic hands. Each time she tried to recite the summoning spell to call her broom, it came out a little differently.
She needed to recall that broom spell if she was to get hold of that candy wrapper.
Once she had it, she was going to deliver it to Arthur Hart.
She’d overheard him telling Maida that he was working with the Director.
She’d always liked the boy—so much more than his surly father. Arthur seemed quite capable.
She’d have done it days ago, if only it wasn’t for that blasted cat stalking the halls. The cat, when it wasn’t trying to make a meal of her, seemed quite fond of batting the balled-up bit of silvery plastic around.
Which was why she needed the broom.
She’d spent countless hours remembering and reciting for nothing.
Every attempt was a failure. Minerva was exhausted.
She must be emphasizing the wrong syllables, or perhaps she’d reversed the word order?
One time she’d got the broom to topple over.
Maida investigated the sound and stood the broom back up against the wall.
Wand or no, it was ridiculous that she couldn’t even perform a simple child’s spell.
And yet she wasn’t as fussed as she normally would have been. The more time she spent as a mouse, the less bothered she was about the sort of things that normally would have had her apron strings in a tangle.
When her grandniece rearranged the furniture in Minerva’s bedroom, it hardly bothered her at all.
When Maida brought all the romance and cozy mysteries to the front of the shop, relegating the more technical tomes to the back rooms, Minerva had merely shrugged her tiny shoulders.
Much to her surprise in the following days, she saw sales were picking up.
People were willing to take the time to browse the stacks for a specific book they’d come in to buy.
And meanwhile, they were tempted to buy additional books that they had to pass by on their way in and out.
She realized she should have done something like this long ago.
The speed with which Maida had picked up the shop’s accounting and organizational systems impressed Minerva.
The girl was a natural. If Minerva had suspected this was possible, that Larkspur’s daughter could tend to the bookshop properly, she would have sought her niece out much sooner.
She’d worked so hard, all by herself, for so long. And she hadn’t needed to!
She could have taken it easy, gone out with friends. Surely she would have made some if she hadn’t put all her energy into running the bookshop. She could have indulged in reading books, too, rather than just selling them.
None of that mattered anymore.
She had nothing left to look forward to.
Nobody to scold for having crumbs in their beard.
The shop could and would go on without her.
Quite swimmingly. With Zephyr gone and the care and keeping of the Mudpuddle seen to, Minerva was no longer needed.
She was an extraneous mouse. She might as well just stay disappeared and sleep all day.
Minerva rather enjoyed sleeping in, she had discovered.
But the sound of that blasted crinkly wrapper plagued her. Every time she heard the cat swiping it about, she remembered the mage. He’d come close to breaking into the Archives, but he hadn’t been successful. Minerva felt certain he’d be back. The least she could do was warn Maida and Arthur.
Afterwards, she could take a nice long nap.
She waited until Maida and Rosie went out on an errand, and Gemini the cat was sprawled out snoring on a sunny windowsill in the mudroom, before making another attempt at summoning her broom.
Stealthily, she crept along the hidden ledge, getting as close as possible to the corner where the broom rested.
She could see Gemini’s whiskers twitching and the golden claws of her paw gleaming as she batted at something in her dreams.
Bristle, handle, wind, and air,
Come to me with haste and care.
Broom of magic heed my plea,
This ancient charm now wake for me!
Minerva chanted the spell, as best she could recall it, taking care to pronounce each syllable.
This time, it seemed to work. For a giddy moment, hope filled her heart.
The simple wooden broom levitated off the ground and hovered for a moment.
The bristles ruffled and the air around the broom vibrated with magic.
Minerva crouched. This was the furthest she’d come.
Now she only had to get her broom level and bring it closer.
She took a deep breath, readying herself to leap onto the handle.
Thistle, candle, wind, and air,
Fly to me if you dare.
Broom of magic heed my plea,
This ancient spell now weaves for me!
The broom tipped into a horizontal position.
Slowly, slowly…Minerva exhaled the chant again, this time in a whisper, struggling to enunciate as much as her mouse voice would allow it.
The air in the mudroom was crackling with electricity now.
Some of the hair on Gemini’s back was standing on end.
The oversized cat rolled over onto its back, basking in a sunbeam.
Just a little closer…
The broom quivered, and Minerva tried harder to focus on casting the spell, ignoring the sleeping monster below.
Gemini stretched and opened one large blue eye. The eye focused on Minerva. It stared up at her brazenly, knowingly, hungrily, she thought. Well, good luck with that. There was no way for Gemini to reach her up near the ceiling.
Then, as the cat shifted, baring more of her belly, Minerva heard the familiar crackle. Gemini was laying on top of the wrapper.
Toadstools and fungus!
There was no way she’d be able to retrieve it from beneath the cat.
With a clash and a clatter, the broom crashed back down onto the floor. The cat hissed, but did not budge. Minerva felt hot tears coming to her eyes.
“You ignominious, idiotic feline,” she ranted. “Why won’t you just let me get that wrapper so I can give it to Arthur?”
Gemini blinked at her impassively and licked her paws.
“Don’t you know everyone could be in danger? Including you and Rosie?” She shook her fist at the cat.
At this, the cat froze, still glaring back up at her.
Minerva could swear she understood, although she herself had always found cats to be terrible listeners.
Just one of the many reasons none of the Lathrops had ever bothered with a feline familiar, she thought.
Cats were too narcissistic to be relied upon.
Gemini licked her chops and stared up at her. Her predatory gaze made Minerva feel tiny and vulnerable. Suddenly, Minerva intuited another, much better reason why the Lathrops might have eschewed cats.
She felt goosebumps rising.
“I’m on to you, you flea-bitten failure of a familiar! You’ll have me to answer to if that awful mage gets back in here.”
The cat blinked twice at her then closed her eyes and curled back up with the wrapper.
“Fine,” Minerva grumbled. “I’ll just have to find another way.”
It would have to wait for another day, though.
Minerva was sleepy now but she didn’t feel like going back to the mouse apartments.
She retraced her steps back to the foyer and curled up behind one of the pine cone finials on the fireplace mantel.
If Gemini could sleep on a windowsill, then why couldn’t she sleep on the mantel?
The smell of woodsmoke, mixed with the warmth of the lit fireplace carried her quickly off to dreamland.
“Wake up, Minnie!”
The face in front of her consisted entirely of sparks. Zephyr’s breath smelled of cedar, and charred oak.
She blinked at the vision. This had to be a dream.
“Wake up!” he demanded more insistently. “I need you to go to the Archives and get something for me. You need to remember who you are.”
Minerva rubbed her eyes. “Zippy? Is that you?”
“We’re running out of time, Minnie, you need to go soon.”
She folded her arms across her chest. Sleeping or awake, there was little sense in arguing with an apparition, and yet she felt compelled. “How do you propose I do that? Can’t you see I am now a mouse? That same mage who cursed you transformed me into this.”
Minerva gestured at herself.
The apparition of Zephyr shook his head vehemently, sending sparks scattering so far and wide it worried her that the books might catch fire.
“No, Minnie. The wizard didn’t do this to you.
He was using synthetic magic, remember? If he had hit you with a transformative curse, it would be wearing off by now.
But if anything, it seems to have grown stronger. ”
Minerva cocked her head, considering this.
“You need to fetch the hand mirror I checked into the Archives after my first mission with the Society. Do you recall it, Minnie?”
Of course she remembered it, and the charming tale he told her about it.
She’d still been a girl, full of hopes and dreams then.
He’d dared her to look into it, but she hadn’t taken the bait.
Not once in over eighty years. The mirror remained locked in a glass display case at the center of the Archives.
The very same case where she kept the items she was fondest of.
It was a memento of another time.
“What is it you want with that mirror?” Minerva asked the apparition.
She knew it was just a dream and that it wasn’t really Zephyr, but now that she was chatting with him she dearly wished it wasn’t her mind playing tricks.
She didn’t want the dream to end. Continuing the conversation was her desire.
“You need to look into it,” Zephyr said. “And then you need to come and find me.”
“What do you mean, come and find you?” Minerva asked. “On the other side? What is it like there, Zippy?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Zephyr said. “All I know is I miss your biscuits and?—”
Cling! Clang! Clingle, Tingle, Ding!
The bells on the shop door startled and woke Minerva. Maida and Rosie were back from delivering the books to the squirrels.
“Does it smell smokier than usual here?” Maida sniffed the air.
“Must have been something in the wood in the fireplace.” Rosie wrinkled her nose. “There’s a lot of ash on the floor. Let me fetch a broom.
“Thanks! There’s one in the corner of the mudroom,” Maida volunteered.
Minerva pinched herself, hard. She was definitely awake now. She could have sworn she’d just been speaking with Zephyr. But it must have been a dream.