Page 35 of Starlight Witch

this spell I weave, so let it take.

I make no promise,

I extended no deal,

spirit come,

so be my will.

The candle flickered and began to melt faster, as the flame flared into the air. The energy surrounded us like a thick blanket, muffling every sound. As I watched Grams and May, it occurred to me how powerful they really were, and I suddenly felt insignificant. I wanted to be like them when I grew older, and strengthened my resolve to learn more about my history and magic. Grams and May put their hands on the planchette, and I grimaced. The thought of touching the actual hand gave me the creeps, but as I watched their calm, resolute faces, I tried to shake off the disgust I felt.

“You who are trapped within the bottle, can you hear us?” May said.

One beat… Two beats… Three beats… The planchette began to move, their fingers lightly atop it. It was slow at first, a fraction of an inch, and then suddenly swiped across to the word Yes.

“Will you tell us your name?” Grams asked.

Again, it took a few seconds before the planchette moved, but it quickly zoomed around the board, with Grams calling out the letters that it landed on. Bree had had the foresight to bring a pen and paper and was taking notes.

“T-H-E-O-D-O-S-I-O-U-S.”

Both Grams and May looked at each other.

“Theodosius,” Grams said. “You don’t think it can be…”

“The actual Theodosius?” May asked. “I don’t know. Nobody ever knew what happened to him. Or at least, if they did, it wasn’t written down anywhere.”

“Who’s Theodosius?” Bree asked.

“He was a sorcerer who was born in the mid-1800s. While it was recorded that he died, most witchblood think he deliberately thrust his spirit into a bottle like this one, hoping to emerge at a later time. There were a number of people after him, looking to kill him.” May worried her lip. “If we actually have the true Theodosius here, this could mean great trouble. We absolutely cannot let the local witches’ guild—any witches’ guild except the national one—get hold of this bottle. It should go directly to the Queen.”

“What did he do?” I asked. “And can someone put themselves into stasis like this?”

“Yes, great sorcerers and witches can transfer their essence into a container like this. Especially if they see death coming. Most witches wouldn’t consider it because it disrupts the natural cycle of reincarnation. But sorcerers? They tend to ignore that factor. Theodosius had such a thirst for power that I wouldn’t put it past him.” Grams walked over to the bottle, staring at it but not touching it. “I recommend we don’t ask any more questions. He’s good at deceit, and I don’t want to open any doors, even accidentally.”

“Can he hear us talking?” I asked.

Grams nodded, then looked around. “I hate to leave this here, but we don’t dare take anything out of this room yet. Neither the bottle nor the book. And before you ask, he can probably hear everything that goes on in this house. Theodosius was probably one of the most powerful sorcerers who ever lived.”

My stomach rumbled, a mixture of hunger and anxiety mingling to the point of where I couldn’t tell if I needed to eat or throw up. “What now?”

“We lock up this room and decide what to do later. For now, I suggest we return upstairs and get some sleep.” Grams shook her head, forestalling any other questions or comments.

We made sure the candle was out. Then, led by Grams, we filed out of the secret room and made sure it was securely shut before we went upstairs.

Once we were back on the main floor, Grams motioned for us to follow her outside, into the night. We slipped out the front door, where I glanced back at the house, wondering how my mother could sleep through all of this. Although honestly, we had barely made any noise. And given her sleeping pill habit, hopefully she wouldn’t dream about us either. Once we were outside, Grams led us toward the front walkway. We stepped out of the gate, onto the sidewalk, where Grams took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“If we talk inside the house, there’s a chance he’d pick up on it,” she said, keeping her voice low. “That’s probably how he kept tabs on your father. I also believe that your father talked to him so much through that board that Theodosius got his hooks into Malcolm’s psyche. My guess is that he drove your father to suicide, mentally plaguing him when Malcolm failed to set him free. That’s what he’s looking for, you know. Theodosius is looking for a way to re-enter the world. He’s probably looking for someone he can use as an anchor, someone who is weak enough for him to take them over.”

“Why hasn’t he attempted to use my mother?” I asked.

“Just because she’s selfish and somewhat of a narcissist does not mean she has a weak will. My bet is that he realizes she would try to use him for her own means, and that’s the last thing he would want. Your mother has a strong enough personality that she wouldn’t be easy to control And she has her own ideas of what she wants to happens,” Grams said.

May looked around, then let out a long sigh. “I really don’t feel comfortable sleeping here. Your great-grandmother and I need to raise some hefty wards before we go to sleep. We could be targets for him, and while I think we are warded enough to fend him off, I want to make sure that we don’t leave any holes in our protection. I doubt if he’ll target you, or Bran, and he won’t go after Bree.”

For once, I wasn’t insulted by the implication that I wasn’t powerful enough to be noticed. “So, what do you think went down between my father and him?” I asked.

“I think Theodosius thought that he could use your father to procure a witch he could control. And I believe that your father thought that he might be handing over something of great research value to the Witches’ Guild.”

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