Blood Magic (10 page)

April 17, 1905

It is not all beautiful
.

I hardly know how to put this down, but Philip said, “You need to remember.” And I do not want to, this more than anything that has happened
.

But a small part of me understands what I did not understand before. About memory
.

The beginning first. That is how these things are done
.

In December, Philip brought home a basket of kittens. He gave them to me, showed me how to soak cloth in milk for them to suck at, and as they grew, I cared for them. The darling, little, mewling things. So soft, with their sharp little teeth and playful paws. I carried their basket into my bed and slept with them curled all around me. For three weeks they were my friends
.

And this morning, Philip called me to his laboratory and said I should bring one of my kittens
.

I should have known. Somehow, I should have known
.

When I arrived, already he had laid out a working circle. A thin black braid of human hair coiled at its edge, along with his blood knife, ribbons, a bundle of sticks, and honeycomb. He explained that his
services had been sought for a great protection charm, that a woman was being beaten by her husband, and her grandmother had come begging. I held my cat, which I’d named Serenity, and petted her tawny fur while Philip constructed a doll with the wax and sticks. He pushed in eyes and cut a gash for a leering grin. He tied a ribbon around the doll’s neck and pressed the hair into its head
.

“How did this grandmother know to come here?” I asked
.

Philip was frowning, rather fiercely, I recall. He did not like this kind of work. “The Deacon knew her, and he performed these sorts of charms for the whole of the lower side and much of the towns and villages beyond. She thought perhaps I followed his magic. And she was correct, of course.”

I still do not know what happened to this Deacon, the one who taught Philip these bloody ways. Some days I want to meet him, other days I fear it. “Why don’t you make charms like this more often?”

“It is filthy work, little sprite, and people will ask things I am not willing to give. Charms for healing and life, but also curses and death—like this one. And the more who know what we do, the less able I will be to experiment.” He set the doll into the circle and contemplated it quietly
.

“But you’re helping some poor woman.”

“At a cost, darling.”

“To her husband? He deserves it, if he’s beating her.” I said it rather harshly, I am certain, and Philip snapped his head up to frown at me
.

“To all of us.” He held out his hands for Serenity
.

And then I knew. “What? No!” I held her against my chest, and she squeaked and pressed at me with her paws
.

“They were brought here for this very reason, Josephine. Give it to me.”

“But a cat! You said our blood is special, that it holds the power. If other human blood cannot quicken the charms, why a cat’s?”

Philip came around the table to me, slowly and steadily. I could not move. “Some animals,” he said quietly, “share our powerful blood. The ones you would expect. Cats. Crows. Some dogs. Rats. They make strong familiars, though they must give their lifeblood to the magic, not a mere drop.”

I was still shaking my head. “Just prick your finger, Philip.”

“I won’t put my blood into a charm like this, nor yours. Not when it could be used against us.”

“Against us?”

“Others know the cunning ways. And even if their blood is not special, with ours they could curse us, turn the doll against us, or any number of other things.”

Serenity shoved her head into my chin. I felt tears in my eyes. I feel them again now
.

He cornered me and said, “This is not a game. You take it all too lightly. You must understand the sacrifices. The balance that must be kept.”

And I understood that he’d given me the kittens to care for with this very thing in mind. My fingers clutched at Serenity, but Philip took her, and killed her on his laboratory table. I remember how her blood shone on the doll’s face
.

It was the first night since coming to live with him that I did not read with him or even speak to him before retiring to my room in order to write this
.

Now I hear them, the rest of the kittens, crying for me to feed them. I want to press their heads under the bathtub water.

For better or worse, tonight I was going to make my mark on the Yaleylah High School drama club and all its various hangers-on.

Too bad I had to get a ride to the party with my evil stepmother.

The left rear tire on the Sebring was flat. Punctured by some random piece of gravel or road crap that liked cosmic jokes. It left me either stuck in the house with Dad and Lilith or hitching a ride. I was desperate enough that if I’d had Silla’s phone number, I might have called her. But I was the genius who hadn’t gotten it, or even Eric’s. Nobody else could come get me. I’d asked Dad for the ride, but Lilith had leapt to it like a rabid wolf on roadkill.

Enter one tin flask filled with whiskey and Coke.

Slinking down the stairs, I hoped that I could get to the kitchen where her keys were hanging and borrow her Jeep or Dad’s. But there she was, waiting by the front door in an I-want-to-suck-your-blood red coat, swinging her key ring around her finger. “You’re wearing that?” she said.

I sneered involuntarily. “Sorry my fashion sense doesn’t run toward cougar-approved.”

Lilith lifted her eyebrows at my nasty tone. “You’ll certainly stand out.”

“Great. Let’s get this over with.” I pushed past her and out the door. As Lilith called bye to Dad and followed me, I pulled the directions out of my jacket pocket. I’d triple-checked them against the possibility of being lost on backcountry roads with her. Talk about the setup for some slasher movie. And I didn’t know which of us would end up dead on the side of the road.

Instead of turning around in the massive driveway, Lilith backed all the way down our gravel lane, her body twisted to stare out through the rear window and her fingers clenching the back of my seat for leverage. Her sharp fingernails were way too close to my shoulder for comfort.

Skinny black tree branches reached out and slid along the passenger side of the car as she swerved slightly off the road. Clearly Lilith wasn’t a girl worried about her paint job. I considered complaining. But since I’d seen her turn around plenty of times before, I knew she was doing this just to piss me off after my cougar comment, and I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me tense. So I leaned forward and flicked on the radio. Scratchy National Public Radio growled to life, reporting on some massive explosion in the Philippines. It was impressive we picked the station up way out here. And also that Lilith listened to it.

As she managed to get us onto the road leading past Silla’s house and finally pointed forward, I hit
SCAN
to try and deter conversation.

But scanning picked up three static channels for every single decent one, and by decent I mean so filled with twang and heartache it made your eardrums bleed.

“So, Nick.”

“Turn left up here.” I angled the directions toward the window so that I could read them by the surprisingly bright moonlight.

She did, leaving the single-lane road for what counted as a county highway out here. At least it was two lanes. “Tell me, Nick, about this new morbid fascination with the cemetery? It’s rare for you to have an
interesting
interest.”

“In about three quarters of a mile we turn left again, and then it’s not far. Jesus. I could have walked.”

“In the dark, darling? You don’t know what’s out there waiting to snatch you up.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’d be more pleasant than this.”

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Lilith grin. “That wasn’t nearly as sharp a retort as I was expecting. You must be losing your touch.”

“It was a lousy setup. I can only do so much when you throw me a foul ball.”

She shrugged and tapped her fingernails on the steering wheel.

I turned off the damn radio, which had totally failed to find anything remotely appealing. If this foray into my own personal horror movie didn’t get any better real soon, I’d be praying for an ax.

The truck bounced along the uneven road toward the Leilenthal farm. I flipped down the visor and stared at my eyes in the mirror.

“You doing okay?” Reese glanced at me.

“I don’t really want to go to a party. I want to practice more.”

“It will do you good to relax.”

“I know. It just doesn’t come close to comparing to the … the excitement of the magic. I want to be out there making leaves fly! Or trying the possession spell. Can you imagine what it would be like to inhabit the mind of an animal? Like a crow, the way he says in the book? Soaring over the fields and dipping and darting through the clouds …” I closed my eyes, picturing the cemetery from above, the gravestones and rolling autumn fields spreading into forever.

“Yeah,” Reese said. “But not tonight. Tomorrow afternoon. Tonight we’re going to pretend we’re normal.”

“Ugh. Normal.” I’d lost normal a long time ago. Holding my palm open in my lap, I traced the healing pink line. Against the oh-so-normal background of my jeans and Reese’s car, the gash seemed like such an odd thing. Wrong and unsuitable. Why should I look forward so strongly to taking a knife and watching the blade slice open my skin? What was wrong with me? Queasiness suffused my stomach and throat. I closed my hand.

“I thought you liked this party. You used to.”

“It’s mostly people I don’t spend time with anymore.”

“Isn’t Doug’s little brother in your play?”

“Yes. Eric.”

“Hang with him.”

“I wish you were staying.”

“Really? You want to hang with your brother at a party?” He grimaced, but his eyes, when he glanced at me again, were filled with sympathy.

“I’d rather be at home.”

He turned down the lane toward the barn. It had only been a three-minute drive. Wendy had promised to run her little sister over to spend the night with a friend, and I could have walked—should have—but Reese was on his way to the football game since his evening was suddenly free.

Ahead, bonfire glow lit the trees into black reaching silhouettes. Pulling his truck up alongside a row of parked cars, Reese turned off the engine and faced me. “Call me if you need anything. I can be here in fifteen minutes. And afterward, we’re going to head down to Barley’s. Also, call me if you get a ride home. Otherwise, I’ll be here around midnight, okay?”

“Yeah.” I started to slide out but paused, balancing on the edge of the seat. “Reese?”

“Yeah?”

I opened my mouth.
Don’t drink
. “I’m glad you have friends you still want to spend time with.”

He reached out and touched my elbow, started to say something, then both his eyes and his hand dropped. He shrugged. “Ya know, if I was in college, I wouldn’t be seeing these guys at all, so that’s one benefit, huh?” Reese forced a smile. It wasn’t a bad lie, as they go.

“Good point. See you later, Reese.”

“Night, bumblebee.”

Rust flaked off the old door when I banged it shut. I stood there, leaning against Sherry Oliss’s blue Chevy as Reese backed away, turned, and drove off.

Behind me, peppy country music blared out of the Leilenthal brothers’ huge speakers, which they’d set up on either side of the barn doors. I’d have preferred Johnny Cash. Something deadly, upbeat, and appropriate for a girl who was obsessed with cutting herself. I closed my eyes and hugged myself, wishing the desire to socialize would rush up from the ground and consume me.

It didn’t.

I turned around anyway, and picked my way through the weedy grass toward the party.

It was about nine, and maybe thirty people mingled around the fire. More were inside the barn. At the edge of the light, I peered through the orange shadows for a familiar face. Or rather, a welcome face. Everyone was familiar. A handful of drama club members chatted near the barn, including Nick, who was dressed in a pinstripe three-piece suit like he’d walked out of a production of
Guys and Dolls
. He was surrounded by not only Eric and a couple of the other guys but a bunch of girls. Kelsey Abrigale kept touching his lapel in this ingratiating way, and Molly Morris laughed way too loudly when Nick said something.

For a moment, I considered crossing straight over to him to find out if he’d driven me home because he liked me or
because he just liked to flirt and fit in. Maybe last year I’d have been right there, in his face and teasing him about his sexy hat. But now … since others were preening and displaying their interest, why would he think about a weird girl who liked to hang out in the cemetery?

I didn’t need it, either. I had the magic. Real magic. So instead I perched on a toppled tree trunk, watching the fire, the dark outlines of students, and the twinkling stars above. The full moon hung to my left, and I started to think about one of the healing potions that was supposed to sit out overnight, and that Dad’s notes indicated would work better when the moon was large. Reese thought that was B.S. until I reminded him that we’d turned a skeleton into a living bird with salt and blood, so who was to say what the moonlight could do?