Buried Magic Page 6

  “Well, good job I’m here then. Do you mind if I look at that box again?”

  “Of course not, it’s yours.”

  He looked at her expectantly. “Glasses?”

  She grinned. “Carry on up, I’ll grab them.”

  By the time she returned to the attic, Alex had dragged the box to the centre of the room again, and now sat cross-legged in front of it, examining it closely. He had pulled a book from his canvas pack and it lay open next to him, revealing pages illustrated with drawings and descriptions of runes.

  Avery sat next to him and picked up the book. “Where did you get this from?”

  “El. She’s had it for years and has marked a couple she thought looked familiar.” He pointed to one on the side of the box. “This one is for protection and repels demons.” He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “Demons? As in, red-eyed, evil smoke and brimstone demons?”

  “I guess so.” He pointed to the opposite side, where another strange mark was carved into the wood. “And this one repels spirits.” He pulled the book from her hands and flicked through a few pages. “See, here.”

  Avery compared the two, and felt a flutter of excitement start to override her fear. “And the one on the top?”

  “Incomprehension, blindness—a deflection, almost, of vision. The one that stopped us from seeing the box.” He leaned closer, looking at the details. “See, there are lots of tiny little runes, too, all around the rim of the lid of the box.”

  The lid was deep and solid, with more runes on the inside. “And what do these mean?” she asked, pointing at them.

  “Another spell.” Alex’s voice rose slightly with anticipation. “They combine to make a sentence.” He looked back and forth between the runes and the box, flicking pages impatiently, muttering under his breath.

  While he looked, Avery ran her fingers over the runes, feeling their smooth contours. She had the feeling they hadn’t been carved by hand, but had been magicked in, burnt by fire. Should they even be trying to open it? She sat back on her heels, thinking. It was deep enough to hold a grimoire. Maybe Imogen Bonneville had been lying in her letter. She felt a thrill race through her. If this did contain the grimoire, they were ahead of whatever was coming.

  “Alex, I think the grimoire is in the lid.”

  “What?” he said absently, still pre-occupied.

  “Your family grimoire. The original.”

  He looked up at her in shock. “But the note...”

  “Meant to confuse—I think so, anyway.”

  He looked back to the pages in front of him. “Okay. This makes sense. I think I know what the runes say. It requires a blood sacrifice.”

  “What!” Avery jolted back. “We don’t do those.” They never did such things. That was darker, older magic, now forbidden.

  “Hold on—it’s not what you think. It needs my blood.” He may have said the words calmly, but he looked worried.

  “Go on.” She took a slug of wine, trying to ease her racing thoughts, and Alex reached for his glass, too.

  “It needs something of me, something to prove who I am, and that I am worthy of it.”

  The room felt very dark suddenly, and Avery shivered. “Your ancestor surely wouldn’t want to cause you harm?”

  “I think it’s also an act of faith.”

  “There’s a lot of thinks here.” As much as Alex annoyed her, she didn’t want him dead or maimed. And she didn’t relish the thought of black magic unleashed in her home.

  “Will you help me?” She hesitated, and he carried on. “I had another vision. More blood, more destruction. I see death, Avery.”

  “What if it’s this?”

  “It’s not this. This will help us.”

  “The cards I saw earlier predicted it, too. Destruction, I mean. Change.” Her well-ordered life, weird as it may be to some people, was also safe, and now it felt threatened. She sighed. “We can’t walk away from this now, can we?”

  He shook his head, his long dark hair falling round his face, and in the candlelight she became aware of just how attracted to him she was. He had an animal magnetism, a sheer masculine force that she couldn’t ignore, but really had to. She was pretty sure he wasn’t interested in her at all, and if he was, she was only one among many. And, she reminded herself, he was a superior bastard at times.

  “It’s a simple spell; it just requires some herbs and my blood. I don’t actually need you to do anything, just be here in case something crap happens.” He grinned and winked.

  “That’s not funny. I’m not the witch cavalry. Should we call the others?” With the night closing in around them, her attic felt threatened and vulnerable. More witches were a good idea.

  “No, it would take too long. Let’s get on with it,” he said decisively, rising quickly to his feet. He headed to her extensive collection of dried herbs and selected some jars, declaring, “I need this, this, and this.”

  While he was preparing the herbs by crushing them in the pestle and mortar, she flicked through the rune book, looking at the designs and comparing them to the box. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? I’m familiar with a couple of these, but...” Her voice trailed off as she tried to work out the meaning.

  “My grandmother was good with runes,” he said from where he stood at the long wooden table. “She taught me some, a long time ago. I remember a few of them now—vaguely. I must have her books somewhere, or maybe she took them with her.”

  “Where’s your grandmother now?”

  “Not here,” he said with a sigh. Before she could ask anything else, he bought the herb mix over. “Now, I just have to mix my blood in it.”

  “We need a black candle,” Avery said. “It will enhance the spell, discover the truth of it, and banish negative energies.” She headed to the shelf to where a number of baskets sat, and after rummaging in one of them, she pulled out a brand new candle, while Alex marked out a circle on the floor with salt.

  “Salt?” She looked at him, confused.

  “I’m taking precautions. Just in case something unhealthy appears.” He shrugged. “I’m sure it won’t.”

  She resisted the urge to glare. “In that case, we need purple candles, too.”

  Alex placed the box in the centre of the circle, and then Avery lit the candles on either side.

  He looked at her, serious all of a sudden. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Step away, just in case.”

  He waited until she was across the room, standing by the table, and then he stepped into the circle and sat cross-legged in front of the box, withdrew a penknife, and slashed it along the centre of his palm. Avery winced as she watched him. He clenched his hand and let the blood drip into the bowl, all the while chanting under his breath. He mixed the blood and herbs with his uninjured hand and started to smear the mixture over the runes in the lid and the tiny ones all the way around the edge. All the while his blood dripped into the bowl, and he seemed to smear a lot of it over the box.

  As Alex chanted, the pressure dropped, and Avery realised she was having difficulty breathing. She started gasping for breath, and noticed Alex was doing the same, but she daren’t speak. Something, good or ill, was happening. With a weird sucking sound the pressure dropped again, and Avery felt dizzy as every single candle in the room went out, and then the lamps, until only the two candles in the circle remained lit.

  Avery concentrated on Alex and the box. Long, wavering shadows made him look demonic, and it looked as if the runes on the box were moving.

  Just as the pain in her ears was becoming unbearable, there was a loud bang like a gunshot, and the wooden lid of the box cracked down the middle. Thick, black smoke began to pour from it. The candle flames on either side of the box shrank to tiny sparks, and Alex chanted louder, lifting his head to stare at the smoke.

  Avery stepped forward, raising her hands, ready to send a blast of energy at whatever it was, but the thick smoke stopped within the
circle’s protective walls. She remembered Alex’s words. He said it was a test, but was it? The signs on the box provided protection from spirits and demons. Maybe something was locked in.

  She stood transfixed. Alex’s voice was strained and he was enveloped in the blackness, almost shouting his chant. She stepped forward again, wondering what else she could do, when suddenly the blackness crackled like it contained lightning and disappeared, leaving Alex slumped on the floor. The candle flames on either side shot high before shrinking again, and the pressure in the room returned to normal.

  Whatever it was, had gone.

  Avery used her pent up energy to relight every single candle and ran to Alex, pulling him out of the circle, until she fell over backwards on the rug, with him sprawled on her lap.

  She eyed the box warily, but nothing else happened, and she quickly felt Alex’s neck for a pulse. She sighed with relief. It was there, strong and steady, but he was a dead weight and completely unconscious.

  She leaned over him awkwardly, and shook his shoulders. “Alex, Alex, can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  She shouted louder, “Alex. Wake up!”

  She had a sudden, horrific thought that he might be possessed, and then chastised herself. This wasn’t Supernatural. But could it happen? She and the others used the elements, did spells of protection, but they never messed with blood magic. Well, never until now. What the hell had they got themselves into?

  She looked at his inert form. He was really heavy. And solid. His arms were sinewy with muscle, his shoulders broad, and his shirt had rolled up as she dragged him over, revealing a smooth flat stomach. Her gaze travelled down his legs, and she swallowed guiltily. Tearing her eyes away she focused on his face and shouted again, “Alex, wake up!”

  Still nothing.

  She glanced at the box and decided she needed to complete the salt circle again. She felt vulnerable and open to attack, having no idea what had been in the black smoke. Sliding out from under Alex, she rested his head gently on a cushion and scooted over to the box, all her senses alert, as she peered into the crack in the wooden lid. She could see a hint of silver. Something was in there, but she’d leave it for Alex to look. She grabbed the salt and completed the circle once more.

  Avery was tempted to wake him using a spell, but decided against it. He must have used up a lot of energy, and only rest would restore that. His hand was still bleeding from the cut he’d made across his palm, so she fetched a bandage from the bathroom and dressed the wound. Then she angled a pillow under his head, and threw a blanket over him, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.

  The room felt chilly now, even though it was summer. There was a small fireplace in the wall between her bedroom and the attached en suite bathroom, and the rest of the attic space, as the main chimney breast rose between what had once been two separate houses. She lit a small fire, the bright orange of the flames making her feel warmer already.

  She wondered how the others were getting on with their research. The past had always felt close to her, and now it felt even closer. She had the feeling that old secrets were ready to be uncovered, whether she wanted them to be or not. Shivering, she pulled a blanket around her shoulders and lay on the sofa, a cushion under her head. It wasn’t long before she slept, too.

  8

  When Avery woke the next morning, she found Alex gone and his blanket draped over her. He’d left a note on the table.

  I didn’t want to disturb you, so I’ll see you tonight. The others will be coming, too. Don’t touch the box until we arrive. Thanks for your help. I’m all right.

  - Alex

  Of course, it was Wednesday. She looked around the room, expecting to see the room disturbed in some way after the events of the previous night, but in the pale dawn light, everything looked fine, apart from the broken lid of the wooden box. She felt sorry Alex had left; she would have loved to know what he’d experienced, but that would have to wait.

  After showering and applying makeup, she pulled on a long cotton skirt in dark blue and a short-sleeved cotton top before she headed downstairs to the shop. The day was overcast and promised rain, and that was usually good for visitors. On Wednesdays, only she and Sally were in the shop, which kept them busy. On other days, a post-grad student named Dan would come in for a few hours, which relieved Avery from needing to be in the shop all day. She didn’t like leaving Sally on her own.

  Sally grinned at her when she arrived. “What have you been up to? You look like you had a late night.”

  “Nothing that exciting,” Avery lied. She’d already decided on how she would explain seeing more of the others. It would be unusual enough for Sally to comment. “You know when Anne Somersby left us some books?”

  “Yes,” Sally said, leaning her hip against the shop counter.

  “She left me some papers on some old family histories and the history of the town. They include Alex’s, Gil’s, and a few others—you know Elspeth from the jewellery shop, and Briar with the lotion store?”

  “Yes.” Sally drew the word out quizzically, a slight frown behind her eyes.

  “Well, I let them know, and we’ve decided to finish her investigations,” she said lightly, while making herself busy tidying shelves. “Alex came over last night and it ended up being a late night, that’s all. They’re back this evening.”

  Sally’s voice went up an octave. “What do you mean, ‘came over?’ Are you two—?”

  Avery leapt in before she could finish the sentence, whipping round to face Sally. “No! It was just a chat.”

  “A late night chat.” Sally smiled smugly. “Call it what you want to, I’ll make a cuppa,” and she disappeared into the back room.

  Avery sighed and rested her head against the bookshelf. This would now go on and on. She hoped customers would keep them busy all day.

  ***

  By the time they closed the shop, Avery was knackered. They had been busy all day, so she hadn’t had time to worry about other things. She locked up and headed upstairs to her flat.

  El arrived first, looking excited. “Hey Avery, that stuff you gave me from Anne is great.” She rested a big, slouchy leather bag on the floor, bulging with papers. Her white-blonde hair was scraped up in a messy bun on her head, and she wore faded jeans and a t-shirt, revealing a glimpse of the tattoos on her upper arms. “I’ve found out so much more about my old family history than my family ever told me.”

  “Who gave you your grimoire then, El?” Avery asked, curious.

  “My great aunt. And she was sneaky about it, too. Made me promise not to tell my parents, or anyone else in the family. Magic was a big no-no to them.”

  Avery was in the open kitchen area, preparing tea and coffee. “So how did she know that you would be okay with it?”

  “She noticed things that the rest of my family either couldn’t see, or didn’t want to. I was always clever with making things, and she noticed that I made things slightly differently. She made a point of visiting as I was growing up, and then one day she asked me if I wanted to spend the weekend at her house. It was a creaky old place, but over the course of that weekend she told me about our family, as much as she knew anyway, and she started to teach me magic. After that, it was our little secret.” Elspeth smiled and shrugged. “She was amazing. It if wasn’t for her, I may not even be here.”

  Avery passed her a mug of coffee. “I guess I’ve been lucky. At least it wasn’t something to be hidden in our family. Not from each other, anyway. Although not all family members have embraced it.”

  “Strange, isn’t it, how some people are scared of this stuff?” Elspeth laughed, “And then a whole load of other people wish they had what we have.”

  “I don’t know if they’d want what we have now. Things got weird last night.”

  Before she could elaborate, the others arrived. Alex looked tired.

  “Are you okay?” Avery asked. “You really worried me last night.”

  “What’s going on?�
� Briar asked, a look of concern crossing her face as she looked between the two of them.

  “It’s all right, I’m fine,” Alex said. “Sorry I didn’t stay,” he said to Avery. “I woke at about three in the morning and didn’t want to wake you, so I left. Are you all right?”

  “I wasn’t the one smothered in weird black smoke. I’m fine, thanks. Weirded out, but fine.”

  By now the others were looking bewildered, and Alex quickly said, “The runes on the box, it was a test, for me. Come and see.”

  They followed him up the stairs to the attic, which looked peaceful, if messy, suggesting nothing of the events that happened the night before. The wooden box rested in a patch of sunlight, highlighting the crack on the inside of the lid. The line of salt still surrounded it.

  “What the hell happened?” Gil asked. “Is that blood?” He stood close to the box, examining the smear of herb paste that ran over the runes, and the bowl the paste had been mixed in. Alex’s knife was still on the floor, too, and he looked at Alex’s bandaged hand. He straightened up, suddenly serious. “What did you do?”

  “The box needed my blood to prove who I was. Or rather, my ancestor did. It was a rune spell, and I deciphered it.”

  “And then decided to cast it! Blood magic?” Gil looked at Alex incredulously, and then at Avery. “And you let him do it?”

  Avery had never seen Gil like this before. She knew Gil as the laidback witch from across the town who came from one of the old families. But then again, they’d never performed magic together, either.

  She stood next to Alex, in solidarity. “I actually didn’t want him to, but we knew something was in the lid. It’s still in the lid. We think it’s the grimoire.” The tension in the room was palpable. “Look, I know it was dangerous, but we were careful, you can see that. And I trusted Alex.” She felt Alex give her a quick glance, but she kept looking at Gil.

  Gil’s shoulders dropped and he sighed. “I wish you’d have called us first. Anything could have happened.”

  Alex explained, “There wasn’t time, and besides, I didn’t think we needed you. And I’m fine.”