Scars, Spells and Secrets

Chapter 4

It had been a simple thing to preserve some of her hair. White ribbon was tied around the section to be cut, with the same angular writing as before on the fabric. A quick set of chants and it was cut, then sealed in a glass jar. . All in all, it seemed almost pedestrian. There were no flashes of light or dramatic scores starting in the background as it was done. Once it was finished, Mrs. Maurel gave her arm a little pat and squeeze, wished her well, and then made her way out of the room. Elizabeth locked the door behind her and took a deep breath before arranging her supplies out on her table. She set all but the ones for the air spell aside carefully and opened the book, reading over the instructions three times.

"Okay, I can do this," she muttered to herself. She picked up a piece of white chalk pastel from her shelf and then hesitated. She scurried about, gathering a pencil holder, one of her longer paint brushes, two hair ties and a tissue. She held the brush to the outside of the pencil holder and secured it there with one hair tie. The other attached the tissue tot he end of the brush to create a makeshift flag.

"There."

Next she cleared off a spot on her floor, moving the small rug on the wood boards aside. Carefully, she copied over the circle on the air spell's page. A squiggle here, a crossed line there-it all seemed totally foreign to her, but she dutifully transcribed the symbols. The first instruction was to put the soft white wax into the center of the circle in a disc shape. She molded it quickly and set it down with care. After that came putting a few of the glittery scales from the pixie wings into the center of the wax. A quartz crystal, no bigger than her fingernail, went directly on top of that and then she gently molded the wax over the whole lot. This looks kind of like a dumpling, she thought. Once that was done she wrapped the thin white ribbon around the small ball of wax, pressing it in lightly as the book said to do. She then was to put it in the vial, cork it and put it into the center of the circle. Once that was done, she sat back slightly and picked up the book in both hands, reading aloud the short enchantment.

"Spirits of the air, hear me and imbue these materials with your essence."

Well, that was simple, she thought. I expected to use some cool Latin for this. Elizabeth looked up from the book and jolted when she saw that the chalk was glowing. Well, at least she had reason to believe that it was working. The glow began to fade almost immediately and when it did the chalk markings were completely vanished. She picked up the vial carefully, turning it this way and that in the light. It looked completely normal.

With a deep breath, she pulled the cork free.

Gentle breeze my ass! she thought, wincing as the wind whipped her hair around her head. The little tissue paper flag she'd created was yanked free of the paintbrush that it was on and was flitting about the room. She looked down, surprised to see that the book's pages weren't moving an inch. "Of course not," she muttered to herself. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the wind died. Elizabeth peered around very slowly, surveying the damage. The room looked as though she'd thrown open a window during a tornado. Any small items that had been out were now on the floor, and even her bedding was mussed more than it had been. Her hair was a wreck and, she noted, one of her chairs had even been pushed slightly out from the table. Her eyes went back to the vial in her hand and she was surprised to find it completely empty.

Elizabeth began to search for the wax and ribbon, though all that she found in the end was that tissue flag on her ceiling fan. She made a quick mental note of the fact that ingredients seemed to become used up after the spells, and her mind supplied something that she had learned years ago about how mass cannot be created nor destroyed, but could be transferred into energy. Perhaps, she mused, that's what had happened. The items had been simply converted into the energy powering the wind.

The act of spell casting had been thrilling. The young woman's heart was pounding in her chest, though not out of fear. It reminded her vaguely of riding a rickety wooden roller coaster at a state fair once, of the excitement and knowledge that the whole contraption was probably safe.

She reached over to the book, picking it up again oh so carefully. Maybe another wouldn't hurt. Elizabeth felt almost giddy as she reached out for her chalk again. After all, her room was already a mess. A little more couldn't do any further harm.

Her pulse began to pick up again as she redrew the symbols, feeling forall the world like she was strapped into that roller coaster again, pushed backin the seat as it ascended to that first drop.