The Glamourist (The Vine Witch #2)(40)
“I presume it runs in your veins?”
Yvette gulped. “You mean cut myself?” She eyed Elena’s letter opener, but the witch shook her head and placed the blade on the makeshift altar inside the circle.
It seemed a harsh request to draw one’s own blood, but magic had its own logic—always had. Yvette pulled the hatpin loose from her head scarf and used it to prick her finger. The blood quickly pooled in a bright red spot on the tip, which she used to draw a line on the doll’s face. She blew on the wet blood to get it to dry, then held the poppet to her chest.
Alexandre struck a match and lit the first candle, the one with the gold ribbon. “Turn north, my dear.” He gently turned Yvette’s shoulders square to the back of the shop. “You too,” he said to Elena, who stood behind them both, her hands already held in the sacred pose to honor the All Knowing.
The wick flared and he stood the candle up on the wood floor at the north edge of the circle. “Earth,” he said and bent to draw an inverted triangle with a horizontal line through it, using a stick of charcoal on the floor. He made a quarter turn to his left and lit the green candle, placing it on the western point. There he drew a second inverted triangle, this one without a line. “Water,” he said and circled behind the women. There he lay his match against the red candle directly south and outlined a right-side-up triangle, announcing, “Fire.” He came around, moving spritely for an old man, and bent to light the blue candle on the eastern side and marking it with a triangle. “Air,” he said and blew out the match.
After checking his pockets, he returned to the north position to stand beside Yvette. “There ought to be flowers or gemstones as an offering, but we’ll make do. The masculine and feminine energy contained in the circle should serve us well enough for the task. Ready?”
She felt a flutter of hesitancy, the fear of the unknown whispering in her ear. Yvette nodded before she lost her nerve, knowing it was go forward and realize her wish or stay locked in the city and its own form of limbo as a prisoner forever. “Ready,” she said and took a deep breath.
“Let us call the beneficial elementals to our side, then.” Alexandre began to chant, raising his hands in the sacred pose as Elena had done. “Earth, air, water, fire. Your presence here we doth desire. Air, water, fire, earth. Ye advocates of frolic and mirth. Water, fire, earth, air. Thou spirit bright and spirit fair. Fire, earth, air, and water. Cast your blessings on this daughter.”
After a brief moment of calm the air stirred inside the circle. The candles flickered. The wood beams creaked beneath their feet. Yvette’s armpits grew damp with sweat.
“They’re here.” Alexandre held his hand out for the doll. “They can be a little unpredictable. Best if they get to know your representative first, to be safe,” he said and held the poppet over his head.
The air swirled inside the circle, faster and faster until the women’s hair whipped up over their heads. There was something terrifying yet beautiful in the way the magic swept around them. Such power. Such ferocity. Forceful yet benevolent. Yvette felt more than saw them as they whipped past her body, though she was certain four distinct embodiments of the elements were present. They circled her, evaluating, prodding, considering. Alexandre licked his thumb and wiped the blood from the doll’s face, as if to communicate his intention to the faceless energy swirling overhead. A whoosh of energy went through her, and Yvette felt the lightest fingertip touch against her cheek. Her skin tingled, and the scent of burning cedar invaded her nostrils.
Elena, her hair thrashing wildly about her face, inspected the site of the scar, then raised a hand and thanked the elementals for their intervention. The spirits whirled and swooped over their heads, doused the candles one by one, but then paused on the southern point where Elena stood. They spun slowly around her, as if curiously sniffing out a wrong scent. Their momentum built, encircling her in an ever faster whirlwind, until she raised her hands in the sacred pose. The elementals ended their frenzy. As suddenly as they’d appeared, they dissipated like smoke through a stovepipe, flying back to whatever ethereal realm they’d descended from.
The circle still hummed with the vigor of their passing when Elena picked up the letter opener and cut a gap for a door by slicing the air, releasing the energy of the spell. There was a brief flicker, like moonlight passing through a skylight, and then the shop was quiet except for the sharp intake of breath from its owner.
“Remarkable.” Alexandre smoothed his hair back in place as he stared at Yvette’s face. “How do you feel?”
“Not sure,” she said, swaying on her feet and blinking as though a steam engine had just whooshed in front of her at top speed. “A little buzzy feeling, but otherwise okay.” But it was more than a slight tingling under her skin. Her veins felt like they’d been connected to a wire full of electricity. Plugged in like one of those light bulbs with the wiry filaments that sparked and sizzled as it glowed to life. Was that what it felt like to be a witch? To have the touch of magic crackle like static beneath your fingertips?
“Is it gone?” Yvette ran to the mirror, forgetting the glass was charmed to give a false image. A halo of incandescent light shone back at her, albeit around the face of a toffee-colored mare.
Elena forced the mirror to behave with a cleansing spell. “Not only is the scar gone, but you seem to be emitting a low-frequency energy, something with a bit of a shimmer to it.” No sooner had she said it than the initial blossom of radiance diminished.