Page 34 of Starlight Witch

May shook her head. “No, it won’t. There was a period in time where some of the more powerful sorcerers and witches were captured and entrapped within bottles. My guess is this sorcerer comes from that time period. But if you figure out how to free them from the bottles, they won’t grant you a wish like a djinn. You’d have to make a bargain with them, if you want to use their magic. I wonder if your father figured out how to communicate with this particular one and was trying to strike up some bargain to give the power to the Port Townsend Witches Guild.”

“I doubt we’ll ever know,” Grams said. “But my guess is — with the way your father died — that whoever’s inside that bottle got impatient and decided to kill him.”

“How could that happen?” I asked, walking over to stare at the bottle again. “If the source is entrapped inside, how is he going to reach out and use his magic against my father? Maybe someone from the Witches Guild got impatient and cast a spell on him?”

“That could be. There may be a sorcerer hiding in the ranks of the Witches Guild here. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to say anything about it. And as far as communicating with the sorcerer inside the bottle, that’s probably what the talking board is for.” Grams glanced over at the door leading into the tunnel. “We need to find out where that goes. I suggest that the three of you youngsters take a look, while May and I stay here for backup. If anything seems too far off, get the hell out of there and come back.”

“All right, let’s get moving,” Bran said. He stood, and motioned for Bree and I to follow him over to the open door. “There’s no time like the present,” he said, and disappeared inside.

The walls of the tunnel were a weathered black paint over brick, and Bran was barely able to stand straight, the ceiling so low. There was room enough for two of us to go abreast at once, barely, so we went single file to make things easier. I felt better that Grams and May knew where we were, but I still felt like we were walking into the mouth of the dragon. We had been walking for about fifteen minutes when we came to be another door. It was metal and reminded me of the oval doors in a submarine. As Bran reached for the handle, my instincts flared and I grabbed his hand.

“No, don’t open it. Listen first.”

Bran frowned, but did as I asked. He pressed his ear against the metal door, he waited for a moment as Bree and I quieted down is much as we could. Then, he abruptly stood straight again and turned around.

“You were right,” he said. “I hear water on the other side. I have a feeling if I opened the door it would flood the tunnels and your mother’s basement. We’ve been steadily going downhill, on a slight decline. My guess is that we are near the beach. If I opened the door—and I’m not even sure if I could get it open—the water would flood in and we would probably drown, considering how far down the tunnel we are. We need to get back to your mother’s house and seal this up forever. I don’t know what it was used for, but it’s not a good idea to allow anyone have access to it.”

We headed back to the house, finally emerging from the tunnel.

Grams jumped up, her face pale. “Thank gods you’re back. We wondered where the hell you went to.”

“Apparently, the tunnel leads to a door that keeps water from the Salish Sea from flooding the house. The door at the end must be incredibly strong to be able to keep that much pressure at bay. I have no idea what the hell it was used for, but it can’t be good.” Bran shut the door to the tunnel. “This house must be in a pocket that dips down almost to sea level.”

“I think it does,” I said. If you just drive up the street, you’ll come to a dead end that opens out onto the shore. Who knows, maybe this house was used by smugglers in the past? Maybe this was a way for them to get back out to the beach? It’s high tide right now, so when the tide goes out, maybe it opens out to the shore.”

“Well, that’s a possibility,” Grams said. “Whatever the case, the tunnel should be filled in, though I’m not sure how one would go about doing so.”

“Concrete,” Bran said. “We can worry about that later. Meanwhile, what do we do about all this crap here?”

“Should we contact the source are inside the bottle?” I asked. “I don’t know how much we could trust him, and he’s been in there a long time it seems like, but maybe we can get some idea of what to do with it.”

“I suppose…” Grams turned to May, a questioning look on her face.

May worried her lip. “It’s not a safe thing to do, but I don’t know if there’s anywhere else we can get straight answers. I suppose if we took this to one of the sanctioned witches guilds, they could figure it out.”

“I want to know what my father was involved with. If everyone says no, I’ll go along with it, but I’m invested in this. I want answers.”

Everyone looked at me, and I could see a mixture of doubt, curiosity, and concern filling their faces.

“I’ll abide by what everyone thinks is best,” I said.

“Well, it’s going to take some explanation to your mother as to why were carting stuff out of her basement.” Grams glanced at me. “What do you think?”

May stared at her for a moment, then slowly inclined her head. “Why don’t we see what he has to say? Or she, we don’t know whether it’s a sorcerer or sorceress.”

Bran went back into the main basement, returning with three chairs. We spaced them around the table, letting May and Grams sit in the center. Grams gingerly examined the summoning book. “I’m not going to use their spell. I don’t know what else it might do. But I do have one that might work — an entreaty to the dead.”

There was a candle in the center of the table, next to the spirit board. May held up her finger to the wick and the light erupted as she sparked a flame to catch hold.

“Spirits here, and spirits far,

we call you here, from within the jar.

Speak to us through this board,

obey our will or join the void.

The chain stays firm and will not break,

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