“I think the proper channel may find her hands tied. At least hear me out.”
Letting out a long sigh, I caved. “All right. We’ll talk this afternoon. Meanwhile, I need to dash. I have to cast a quick Prosperity spell and then I have a couple errands to run. We had two cancellations this morning. I have to ensure that we don’t end up closing our doors before we even open them. I love this house, but I never intended to just live here and do nothing.”
After I got off the phone, I retreated to the library, which I had turned into my ritual room. This was one room that was fully furnished. Every direction had its own altar on a square table.
To the north, the altar was covered with a green cloth, and held a small oak chest, open and filled with malachite and smoky quartz, with tiger’s eye and hematite, and strings of peridot and citrine. A brass pentacle sat on the table, and statues of a wolf, bear, and stag.
To the east, my altar had a sphere of lapis lazuli, along with clear quartz and apatite, celestite and blue calcite. The crystals rested on a pale yellow cloth. A fan made of raven and owl feathers was propped next to a small censer with a smudge stick in it. And figurines of an owl, raven, and hawk faced toward the east.
My altar cloth for the southern altar was burgundy, and the altar was decked out in carnelian and garnet, with the bones and skin of a snake, a statue of a salamander, and a wand fashioned of copper and crystals.
And to the west, the cloth was blue, and the stones were pearl and aquamarine, rainbow moonstone and selenite. A crystal bowl filled with Moon Water rested on the altar, along with statues of a dolphin, salmon, and shark. I had found a piece of driftwood and it sat at the base of the bowl.
In the center of the room was a round table where I worked my magic and read the bones. On it sat one of my crystal balls and a candelabra with three candles in it—one red, one black, and one white. While most of the built-in shelves were filled with books, I had reserved an entire section for my spell components. Now, I sorted through them, selecting a piece of parchment paper, some Dragon’s Blood ink and a calligraphy pen, a vial of Prosperity oil, and a bottle of Uncrossing Water. I set them on the center table, then lit the candles.
I had put my Uncrossing Water in a plant mister, and now I walked the Circle widdershins—counterclockwise—spraying it every few feet to mist the air. It cleared out the lingering cobwebs of energy from other spells and from anybody who might be passing through on the astral and etheric realms. While I could have smudged the space, the Uncrossing Water was stronger—it also issued a stern warning to stay out if not invited. Once I was done, I removed my sword from the wall where it hung on stag-shaped sword hangers. Facing the north, I held out the sword and slowly turned, casting the Circle.
Between the worlds, in sacred space, I cast this Circle ‘round,
I weave this web of magic strong, I center it and ground
The energy, that it might hold against all with harm’s intent,
I call upon great Arianrhod, that she will, her magic send.
I call the spirits of the Earth, to ground the magic’s flow.
I call the spirits of the Air, sweep through with winds that blow.
I call the spirits of the Flame, burn brightly with your fuel.
I call the spirits of the Waves, temper, cleanse, and cool.
This Circle cast, the magic dance, visions let me see,
Between the worlds, I do stand. As I will, So Mote It Be.
The Circle settled. As the hum of magic flowed around me, I replaced my sword on the wall and took my place at the table. I stared at the parchment for a moment, trying to think of the best way to word the spell. Finally, dipping my pen in the Dragon’s Blood ink, I etched several runes on the parchment and then, in the center, wrote:
Bring abundance to this dwelling.
Keep the coffers always swelling.
Radiate a welcome light,
Bring the guests both day and night.
With purses full and smiling ways,
Let them book their relaxing stays.
So Mote It Be.
After the ink dried, I dabbed a drop of the Prosperity oil on all four corners, then placed my hands over the paper and focused my energy into it, chanting the incantation three times. As the energy settled, I placed the paper on the altar to the north, and opened the Circle. That should hopefully counter some of the bad press the Bewitching Bedlam was getting.
Returning to the kitchen, I gathered my keys and purse and coat, and headed out for the day.
FIRST STOP: THE sheriff’s office. I needed to feel out Delia for her take on what was going on. The Bedlam Town Hall was a large, brick building on the opposite side of town. The sheriff’s office, fire department, county clerk, courthouse, utilities office, mayor’s office, and library were all contained within the sprawling stone building. Built over a hundred years ago, the Bedlam Town Hall was a beautiful monstrosity of brick, stone, and masonry.
I parked in the lot and, zipping my jacket against the chill, dashed through the snow that continued to fall to the side stairs leading to the nearest entrance. The hallway wasn’t exactly crowded, but there were more people hurrying through the building than I would have expected. Maybe there was a run on building permits or something.
The hall intersected with another shortly after the entrance and I turned left. To my left was the library. To the right, City Hall. I continued straight, toward the wing that sprawled out in the back section. There, was the fire department, the courthouse, and the sheriff’s office. As I headed straight toward Delia’s office, I caught sight of Joel Purdy—the fire marshal. He was a werebear, and the president of the Bedlam Arborists Society. We had talked briefly when I was hunting for a landscaper, but he recommended waiting till spring, promising to hook me up with a gardener who was also a landscape designer. We waved as I hung a right and pushed through the swinging doors leading into the sheriff’s office.
Delia was standing beside the receptionist, who was also the dispatcher, reading off of a tablet. They both looked up as I entered.
“Maddy, I’m glad you’re here. But give me a couple minutes, please. Just take a seat over in the waiting room and I’ll be with you in a moment.” She wiggled her fingers toward a seating area.
I gave her a quick nod and sat on the microfiber sofa. As I ran my hand along the arm, I realized I liked the feel of the material. Hmm, maybe I should consider microfiber instead of leather for the living room. It wouldn’t be sweaty during summer, and microfiber was easy to clean. As I jotted a note to myself about it, I realized that a text had come in earlier that I hadn’t noticed. I didn’t recognize the number as I opened the message.
There, in bold letters, it read: durholm hall. tunnels. be cautious. she’s not alone.
I stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out who had sent it and exactly what it meant. There was no greeting, no other words. The number was the same one that I had received the text of the painting from.
who is this? I texted back and waited. Nothing. I tried calling the number but nobody picked up and there was no voice mail to leave a message.
As I puzzled over the text, it clicked in my head. Of course. The text had to be about Rachel—it couldn’t be about anybody else, could it? Straining to remember anything I might have heard about a Durholm Hall, I didn’t notice Delia was standing beside me until she spoke.
“Maddy? Maddy?” Delia’s voice penetrated the fog of my thoughts.
I jerked my head up. “Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you were going to be longer.”
Delia grinned. “Nah. Not much cooking around here today. I just had to clarify something with Bernice. Come on back to my office.” She led me through the maze of desks, then through a door with a frosted window. Stenciled on the window was her name, along with the word “Sheriff” below it.
As I settled into the chair opposite her desk, she poured a cup of coffee and offered me one.