Always the Vampire

Cosmil nodded his approval and bent over the box. He passed both hands over the lid—one clockwise, one counter—and mumbled a few words under his breath. A tingle of magick ran along my arms, and I jumped a little when I heard the lock on the box click. Then he opened the lid and lifted a rounded object wrapped in silver-shimmer fabric. Energy prickled across the back of my neck and trickled down my spine as he mumbled again and peeled away the cloth to reveal an honest-to-wizard crystal ball.

Or was it crystal? I sharpened my vampire vision and looked closer. Reflections danced over the sphere’s surface, like a glass gazing ball in a garden. Whatever the material, my breath caught when Cosmil let the fabric flutter into the open box, cupped the sphere in both hands, and raised it over his head.

“Powers of the East,” Cosmil intoned, his voice suddenly a booming bass in surround sound as he faced Triton. “Illuminate the future and our path in it as you illuminate each day. Let us learn from our experiences and be continually renewed.”

A shaft of white light shone over Triton for one long second. Then Cosmil turned to Pandora.

“Powers of the South, aid us in our growth and strength so that we may clear our paths of obstructions and face the challenges before us.”

In the ball, I saw Pandora’s reflection, but she stood in a meadow of tall grass and wildflowers. Had she teleported? Been beamed away? Or was she still sitting on her haunches on my right? I didn’t have time to sort the images because Cosmil captured my gaze.

“Powers of the West, knowledge and growth thrive in the womb of introspection, of the waking and sleeping dreamtime. Let our visions birth pure intention and decisive action.”

Pictures bloomed in my mind, snapshots in a vortex, swirling too fast to identify but vibrating with sound and color and emotion. I tried to slow the slide show, only to feel a cocoon enfold me. Was I still standing? Curled in a cradling cloud? Didn’t matter.

I thought I heard Saber shout, but Cosmil’s voice boomed over it. “Powers of the North, you wear the mantle of age and experience. Bring us the wisdom to guide our actions for the highest good.”

In my muzzy vision, Saber’s hair looked snowy white for a millisecond.

Now Cosmil chanted. Not in a language I knew to speak or read or truly comprehend, but some ancient part of me recognized its cadence. A waterspout of blues and greens and whites lazily rose around Cosmil with each note of the ancestor’s song. I listened and drifted, seeing Cosmil and Pandora, Saber and Triton through a baffle. Seeing the sphere levitate from the wizard’s hands to hover treetop high. Seeing sunshiny rays of light play over our circle. Through it all, I stayed suspended in my cocoon, content to appreciate and wait.

Full awareness slammed into me when someone shook my shoulder. I blinked up at Saber’s face.

Up? Why the hell was I flat on the ground?

I jackknifed into a sitting position so fast that I nearly bumped heads with Saber. Good thing his not-quite-humanness gave him great reflexes.

“Steady,” Cosmil said from where he hunkered at my feet. “You channeled your direction more than I had imagined possible.”

“You think?” I snarked. “I’m on my butt in the grass, Cosmil.”

“Yes, indeed, you are. I have apologized to Saber for the scare. Had I foreseen this, I would have warned you both.”

Saber shot Cosmil an irritated glance. “Somehow your apology rings hollow.”

“Perhaps because I cannot regret the outcome.” The wizard speared me with his gaze. “You are indeed ready to make the amulet your own, Francesca. Come. Pandora and Triton are preparing phase two.”

Cosmil sprang to his feet and strode toward the shack, all but rubbing his hands in glee.

Saber watched Cosmil go with narrowed eyes.

“Why are you ticked at him?”

“Because when Cosmil invoked the West,” he said, giving me a hand up, “you swayed and sank into the grass in a fetal position. Scared the shit out of me, but the old bastard froze me in place until after the ceremony.” He cupped my face with his hands. “You sure you’re not hurt?”

“Not an ache. Did I fall hard?”

“You didn’t fall. You floated.”

“And that freaked hunky you?”

“No, honey. The ground softened and absorbed your body. You were three-fourths buried. That freaked hunky me.”

An icy fist seized my gut. Buried? I’d been buried again? Damn it. Why did I have to pull the West power straw? Being beamed by sunlight, basking in a meadow, hell, even turning temporarily gray were all happier choices. Being buried in anything except up to my neck in Saber’s hot tub? That shook me to my little fanged core.

No more ceremonies for me, I decided as Saber and I entered Cosmil’s shanty. And I’d tell him so after I cleaned up.

I didn’t acknowledge Cosmil or Pandora or Triton, but marched straight to the bathroom to check my hair and Regency dress. Prepared to see twigs, soil, sand, at least grass stains, I found nary a smudge. Good for me, and better for Cosmil since I’d have slapped him with dry cleaning and hair-appointment bills. Heck, with an entire spa treatment.