Beneath An Ivy Moon (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 4) (23 page)

A couple of Hipster students snagged the last of the tables across from us. “I love your Halloween sweatshirt,” the girl said to me.

I glanced down. I smiled in response to her well intended compliment— but didn’t have the heart to tell her that for me, this was hardly seasonal wear. My gray sweatshirt had a large vintage-style illustration of a skull printed on the front of it. I’d layered that over a white blouse that featured silver studs on the collar and folded back cuffs.

Nathan sipped his coffee and glanced around the bakery. “Popular place,” he said, taking in the pale blue walls and the cheeky vintage advertising signs for cakes, fresh milk and butter.

I took a bite of my cake doughnut, and the crumbly cinnamon topping melted in my mouth. Crumbs rolled down my shirt and landed in the lap of my blue jeans.

“You have powdered sugar on your chin.” Nathan grinned.

I brushed the crumbs off my shirt. “A small price to pay,” I said, with my mouth full. “This is my favorite kind.”

Nathan sat his blueberry muffin down and reached out with a paper napkin. “I can see that.” He brushed the powdered sugar away from my mouth.

I broke off a piece of doughnut and handed it over. “Here, try it.”

“It’s good,” Nathan said a moment later. “Really good.”

“Mr. Jacobs has the magick touch when it comes to doughnuts.” Nathan’s mouth was now covered in powdered sugar and cinnamon crumbles too. “Come here.” I crooked a finger at him, grabbed a paper napkin and returned the favor.

Nathan reached up for my hand, and our eyes met and held. I suppressed a little shiver, remembering how close we’d come to having sex last night. I guess he was thinking the same thing, because the teasing light went out of his eyes. Nathan shifted forward in his chair. I leaned closer across the little table towards him. Our lips were about to meet when—

“If it isn’t my favorite little shutterbug.” The spell broken, Nathan and I sat back. I glanced up to see Mr. Jacobs grab the one empty chair left and pull it up to our little table.

“Hi ya, Oliver.” I smiled in resignation as he joined us.

Oliver Jacobs, baker extraordinaire, sat at our table, all good will and cheer. He was my height, stocky and dressed in his typical work uniform with a blue apron and white ball cap. The older man was one of my favorite people, not simply because he made amazing pastries; but because he was down-to-earth, a loving father and grandpa, had a great sense of humor, and was one hell of a powerful Witch.

“Who’s your friend?” Oliver asked me, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

I introduced him to Nathan and watched as they shook hands. I didn’t bother to warn Nathan that Oliver would use the opportunity to scan him. I lifted my soda and took a sip, wondering how Nathan would handle it all.

Nathan’s eyes narrowed before he let go of the baker’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jacobs.” He nodded politely.

Oliver grinned at Nathan. “Call me Oliver.” He rested his elbows on the little table and leaned in closer to the two of us. “I hear you’ve both been real busy over on campus.”

I laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

“How did you know—” Nathan began.

“He’s on the local high council,” I explained, and knowing Nathan I added, “Oliver is also the head of the Jacobs’ family line.”

Oliver leaned conspiratorially close. “Faye called me last night, brought me up to speed on the newest paranormal developments. I want you both to be careful, you hear me?”

“No worries,” I said, going for a casual vibe.
It wasn’t like I could discuss everything in a crowded bakery.
I thought, picking up my second crumb doughnut.

Oliver reached out and touched the sleeve of Nathan’s denim jacket. He rested his other hand over mine, and I froze. All the background noise of the bakery faded away. It was as if the three of us sat in our own little triangular shaped bubble.

“Impressive,” Nathan breathed, studying the baker and the spell he’d woven around the three of us with appreciation.

The power I felt from the man didn’t frighten me. I’d known Oliver Jacobs my whole life— I trusted him, and more, I
respected
him. If he was doing magick in public, it was for a damn good reason. “The dreams you two share,” Oliver said, “don’t dismiss them, you received the foretelling for a reason.”

I wasn’t surprised that Oliver knew that, as talented of a practitioner as he was, so I nodded in agreement. “I dreamed of working a ritual to bind Victoria Crowly’s spirit to her grave,” I said softly. “In my dreams I saw drops of blood running down my fingers, and burning candles at her gravesite.”

“That’s an intense type of magick,” Oliver warned us.

“I know it’s hard-core.” I blew out my cheeks. “But I think that’s what it will take to stop any more accidents from happening at the dig site, at Crowly Hall, and most importantly to protect Cypress.”

“We’ll have to be very careful doing the binding,” Nathan agreed. “We’d be walking the edge of the darker magicks.”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” I said. “It’s all coming to a head, and soon.”

“Tonight.” Oliver nodded in confirmation. “Are you both ready?”

My gut clenched of what needed to be done in comparison to my puny spell casting ability. I dropped my eyes down to my lap. “Of course I’ll do the best I can, but without Holly...”

“Ivy.” Nathan tipped my chin up with a gentle finger. “The only thing that is holding back your success with solo magick is a lack of faith in your own abilities.”

“Remember, the Principle of Mentalism states:
Thought creates
,” Oliver said. “You have unlimited potential, young lady. Master your mind, and you can accomplish anything.”

He was right. They both were. “Mind over matter,” I said to them. “The down and dirty definition of magick.”

“Exactly.” Nathan gave my cheek a caress and sat back.

The emotion that welled up had me fighting to keep my voice steady. “I’d do
anything
to protect the people I love,” I said, “and I will keep Cypress safe. No matter what it takes.”

Oliver sat back and clapped his hands together. With a
pop
the noise of the busy bakery rushed back in. “Well, there you go,” he said in a conversational tone of voice, obviously pleased at the outcome of our chat. Oliver stood and slid the chair back to its table. He turned back to Nathan and stuck out his hand. “Pleasure meeting you.”

“Likewise.” Nathan smiled and seemed to mean it as he clasped hands with the baker.

“Good luck tonight,” Oliver said to the both of us.

I jumped to my feet and hugged the older man. He might have been my height, but he was strong. Oliver gave me a big bear hug that lifted me off my feet, and had me giggling. “Thanks for the pep talk,” I said.

“Any time.” Oliver tipped his ball cap and went back to work.

I sat back at the little café table with Nathan. “So, tonight is when it’s all going to go down.”

“We have all day,” Nathan said. “I have a few things— tools and supplies back at my apartment that would help.”

“If we could stop at the manor first, I have a few things I’d like to add to that supply list.”

“Sure,” Nathan agreed. “We could put everything together at my place, it’s practically on campus, and come up with a game plan.”

I nodded mentally going over a list of supplies I would want to bring along. Binding a ghost to her grave was going to take effort and planning. I took a big bite of my doughnut and ignored the falling crumbs.

I had a feeling I was going to need the carbs.

***

Nathan’s place was actually in an old three story home that had been converted into several grad student apartments. The old building was right across the street from Hyde Theater, which also meant it was easy walking distance from the campus cemeteries. I hauled my hooded jacket and messenger bag up three flights of stairs to the top floor. Nathan had my backpack slung over one shoulder as he stopped to unlock his front door.

Nathan, it turned out, was a tidy soul. The apartment wasn’t large— a combined living/ kitchen area and one small bedroom. I poked my head in his bedroom and saw a nice computer desk and bookshelf set up on the facing wall. A queen size bed was shoved against the left wall, and a beat up nightstand held a small lamp. To the right side of the bedroom was the bath, and beyond that a closed door that I assumed led to a closet.

Hardwood floors, still in excellent shape, ran throughout the apartment. I walked across a charcoal area rug, and over to his well-used blue sofa and sat down. Nathan dumped my backpack beside a large trunk that served for a coffee table. We spent the next several hours drafting out a magickal game plan. Ritual elements were suggested, discarded, or accepted and then tweaked to compliment our current situation.

I sat shoulder to shoulder with Nathan as we drafted the banishing ritual on his laptop. We decided to keep the ritual brief, as it minimized our chances of being interrupted or worse— busted by campus security. We tried to take into consideration our location, the lack of privacy at the campus cemeteries, the time of sunset, the phase of the moon, and even the weather. I was unsurprised to see that a chance for severe thunderstorms had been added to the local forecast.

After we settled on the mechanics of the spell, we took a hard look at the tools we’d each chosen to use, and at Nathan’s suggestion we cast a circle together in his apartment. We sat cross legged and facing each other on the carpet, inside the ritual circle. Surrounded by white candles and the fragrant smoke of dragon’s blood incense, we worked together to align our personal energies. We were deliberately careful to take the time to ground and prepare for the work ahead of us; and lastly to sterilize my athame and also to empower all of our other magickal tools for protection, and success.

By the time we had finished, it was late afternoon. As predicted, the weather had begun to change. I stood at his windows, watching a roll cloud precede the storm front. I wasn’t sure if that was comforting that another element of the dream was in play, or if that made me more determined to get this over with. Nathan ordered hearty sub sandwiches and we dug in, since food, especially protein and carbs, were another source of magickal fuel. It was a very practical sort of magick. By the time the sun had set it was full dark, and we were packed, prepared, and ready to go.

Campus was typically quiet on Sunday evenings, and that combined with the surrounding trees, the coming rain, and low traffic area around the cemeteries, I figured we had a good shot of going about our business unnoticed. However, the first thing Nathan and I did once we arrived was to cast a reluctance over the immediate area. I set my supplies out quickly, and no sooner had Nathan finished lighting the last of the quarter candles when rain began to lightly fall. I stood outside the gate of the plot where Victoria Crowly and her sister Melinda rested and pulled my hood up on my black, pleather jacket and tugged the zipper higher.

Nathan buttoned the top of his black oilskin coat, which I thought made him look like a soldier from colonial times... or maybe a pirate... With effort, I pulled my wandering mind back to attention and focused on the task at hand.

A low roll of distant thunder had me frowning up at the sky. We’d need those candles to continue to burn, no matter what. On impulse, I knelt down next to the candle in the northern quarter and held my hand out. “If these flames are extinguished in the physical, they will shine on in the astral realm until we open the circle. As I will it, so must it be.”

“So mote it be.” Nathan formally echoed my words. He held out a hand to me, I took it and rose to my feet. We stepped inside of the little graveyard, and I waited, silent and respectful, for him to cast the ritual circle. To cover our bets, Nathan performed The Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram. As he intoned the Hebrew words at each quarter, I moved with him. When we finished I
felt
, more than I saw, the energy roll into place. I visualized, in my mind’s eye, energy running out and meeting the ring of ritual candles that were nestled in the grass a few feet beyond the fence of the family plot.

“Ready?” Nathan asked. At my nod, he moved to the opposite side of the row of headstones and stood next to Melinda’s crypt.

As agreed, I continued with the ritual. “Earth, air, fire and water, circle ’round and about; protect us well and keep passerbys out.” I moved to the center of the circle and held my hands up to the sky. “In this time and in this hour, we ask the Lord and Lady to lend us their power...” When I finished the invocation, I nodded to him.

Moving back to the opposite side of the circle across from Nathan, I picked up a carton of salt.
Mind over matter. Thought creates. I can do this.
The words ran though my head as I poured some into my hand and began the binding. I sprinkled salt on top of the grass that grew over the grave. “By the power of earth, and with salt; Victoria Crowly, I bind you to your grave,” I said.

The wind started to pick up, and the tree branches began to creak and sway in the storm winds. I pulled my athame from the sheath at my waist. The short double-sided blade had never cut anything physically before. The fact that I was about to use it now for that very purpose meant that it would be useless to me in the future. However, a willing sacrifice would give our binding magick a boost like nothing else. I was prepared to release, or sacrifice, one of my favorite tools. And I was
willing
to suffer a little pain to add a few drops of my own blood to the binding ritual.

I used the tip of the knife and drew a small shallow cut beneath my thumb in the meatiest part of the palm of my hand. I hissed at the burn, and I tucked the athame back in its sheath. I squeezed my left hand into a fist and kept applying pressure, waiting for the blood to well up. In a few moments I could feel blood begin to pool in my hand.

I held my hand out over the grave. “By blood I bind you to your grave Victoria Crowly.” The first of the drops spilled free, and I watched as they seemed to fall almost in slow motion from my fist and towards the grass. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the third and final part of the ritual. “By my will I—”