Ah. Well that made more sense. I could only hope that Hecate wouldn’t be that unhappy to see us.
I got on the ground and traced the best circle I could make, the way I’d seen Thea do it. I glanced up every so often, checking on both Bastion and Prudence’s faces, but they were impassive. Whatever I was doing seemed to be up to standards.
“Do I – I saw Thea drawing sigils.” I scratched the back of my head. “Should I put, like, stars and stuff?”
Bastion snorted. I ignored him. Typical of him to try and pull his schoolyard bully schtick here, but this was too interesting for me, something I didn’t want him spoiling with his casual dickery.
“It isn’t necessary,” Prudence said, getting down on her haunches. “A lot of it has to do with belief and effort. Some fundamental knowledge of arcane imagery helps, sure, but what really fuels magic is whether you think you’ll be able to make it happen.” She grinned – it was more of a smirk, really – and scratched the side of her nose. “If you think a couple of moons and stars will help strengthen your circle, then you should go ahead and add them.”
And I did just that. Whereas Thea’s circle had looked like a precise mathematical formula, the magical chalk equivalent of the Vitruvian man, mine looked like something a kid would draw in the playground after they got bored of hopscotch.
Still, it made me proud. I capped it off with what I thought looked like a cool little flame, and a smiley face. I risked another glance at Bastion’s face. He had one eyebrow raised, and what I thought looked like a mingling of both ridicule and approval in his expression. Eh. Good enough.
“That works,” Prudence said. “Okay, bring out the reagents.”
I sifted through the paper bag, glad that we didn’t have to sacrifice anything living to access Hecate’s domicile, when my fingers came across something clammy and cold. I lifted it out of the bag and grimaced.
“A lamb chop?”
Bastion scoffed. “Really, Prudence? You think that’s going to work?”
“You got a better idea?” Prudence snapped. “You try and find me a black ewe this time of night. Besides, Thea keeps talking about how the kid has potential. What matters is how well he can pull this off.”
Maybe that put a little bit of a lift in my chin, but it was good to know that somebody at least had some faith in me. “I mean, the entity Thea and I visited just wanted a bunch of fortune cookies.”
“Yeah,” Prudence said. “Hecate’s more of a traditionalist. You can imagine why we don’t make more of an effort to seek her out, but she knows things we can’t really learn anywhere else. Of course, communing with her comes with its own obstacles, but we’ll get to that.”
I nodded and kept digging through the bag. The only things left in there were a bottle of honey shaped like a bear, along with a little baggie of dog biscuits. I held them both up.
“Cute.”
Bastion shook his head. “Seriously.”
“I swear, Brandt,” Prudence said. “Not another word.”
The lamb chop went next to the dead pigeon, two cold bits of meat literally chilling on the pavement. I tipped out a couple of dog biscuits onto the ground, crushing them underfoot for good measure, then uncapped the bottle and drizzled honey over the entire mess. I looked to the far end of the alley, grateful that it was so dark, because how the hell were we supposed to explain all this to anyone who walked by?
I stared at my hands dumbly, then realized that this was the last part of the trick. This I wasn’t so keen about.
“Needs to be done,” Prudence said, somehow always mindful of the processes going on in my own brain. “Brandt,” she said, holding up a hand.
Wordlessly, Bastion pulled a switchblade from out of his jacket pocket. I didn’t question why one of the Lorica’s most powerful Hands needed to have a knife on his person, but maybe it made him feel s
afe. Or, knowing Bastion and his fondness for that leather jacket, cooler, a bit more dangerous.
“Just a nick,” Prudence said. “Just prick the end of your finger. That should do it.”
I took out the blade, testing the sharpness of it against my palm when I remembered. “I saw Thea mumbling things, too. That I don’t know how to do.”
“Again, doesn’t matter,” Bastion said. I had to admit, I was surprised he was even contributing. “Make up the words as you go. Recite a poem, or the lyrics from a song. Doesn’t matter. The point is that your voice declares your intent and conviction. What the words are, that’s immaterial. The entity needs to know that you want to see her badly enough.”
“Right,” I said, nodding at his instructions. “Here we go.”
The knife’s point didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, a bead of blood welling up where I pressed it against my skin. It hissed as it hit the center of the circle, and a thrum of energy rushed through me. It was working.
Shadowstepping was one thing, but this was another entirely. I was opening a door to another world. I mean, okay, functionally I did that when I shadowstepped too, but hush. This was actual ritual magic. I tucked the knife into my jeans pocket, still transfixed on the smoldering spot on the asphalt that was once a drop of my blood.
“Puppy Yum biscuits are the perfect anytime treat for your furry friends,” I droned, reading off the back of the packet. “Made with only the best organic beef and lamb, Puppy Yum biscuits also contain mutt-friendly grains and fiber, for – ”