Old Magic (13 page)

“Hey, wait a minute. What are you planning with those?”

Her voice is amazingly calm, if anything, kind of flat, as if she’s entered a trance. “I need your hair.”

“Hair!” I lift up on my haunches, ready to run somewhere, anywhere, quickly. This little charade is going too far.

But she’s smiling at me gently. “Not all your hair, just a few strands, that’s all.”

She snips quickly, in case I change my mind, then wraps a length of blue cord around the little bundle. “This might smell a bit.” She holds the bundle over a candle on her left and starts reciting again, this time a rhyming chant.

Personally I don’t think anything can smell worse than the goat’s blood concoction. The wrapped hair sizzles as it curls up and disintegrates in the yellow flame. When it’s all gone I look up at Kate. She seems ethereal in the way her still vivid blue eyes reflect the candle flames, a soft breeze gently tugging and playing with wisps of her long black hair. Right now Kate actually does look like a witch even with those light, unusually shaped eyes; all that is missing is the legendary broomstick.

Her eyes lift to mine. “You’re not going to like this next part,” she says softly.

My pulse takes a flying leap.

With the goblet she scoops up some moist dark earth. “Breathe slowly and deeply from way down in here.” Her hand touches my stomach just above my navel. It’s firm, yet soft and comfortably warm, and it takes all my concentration to do what she asks this time. Her hand, her eerily flat voice and glazed eyes, are doing strange things to my level of concentration. I try hard not to let my emotions show as Kate is good at sensing moods and feelings. Eventually I get the hang of breathing deeply from my abdomen. She allows her hand to move up and down with my breaths a few times before she raises it and slowly tips the cup of moist earth over my head. Using a circular motion she then starts rubbing the dirt into my scalp, forehead, and chest with her fingers. As she does this she repeats that same rhyming chant.

My eyes close in a feeble attempt at self-protection as dust and tiny gravelly bits of rotted leaves and stuff try forcing their way into my eyes and mouth. I wish now I’d remembered my glasses.

When I open my eyes Kate is smiling. “You’re doing really well.”

I nod but the motion causes more dirt and grit to fall out of my hair. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

She laughs a little, and I’m glad to see the glaze that shrouded her eyes a few minutes ago has disappeared. She looks normal again. Well, as normal as Kate is going to get, I guess. “There’s just one thing left,” she says, and reaches out to the creek, giving her fingers a quick clean. Then, with both hands cupped, she scoops up a handful of water and holds it dripping a bit toward my face.

She doesn’t need to say anything, I know she means for me to drink, but the thought alone of sipping water out of her cupped hands does strange things to my anatomy. The gesture crosses some sort of invisible line. That line known as intimacy.

She nods at the water trapped in her hands. “C’mon, what are you waiting for?”

I watch as drips seep through tiny wedges of space between her fingers. Trying hard not to let any of my feelings show, I lean forward and start drinking. I don’t dare look at her as she would know instantly how she has affected me. When there is none left I drag in a long hard breath and sit back on my heels. I glance up and see Kate’s mouth moving with whisper-soft words, her body gently swaying backward and forward. Shivers ride over me in waves as a strange heat suddenly fills me from feet to head. In an instant it passes, leaving me breathless.

Kate sighs softly, then smiles. “Feel all right?”

“A little strange, but it’s passing.”

“Good. We’re done.” Briskly, she starts tidying up, collecting her scissors and other bits and pieces into her treasure chest. “We have to leave the circle as we entered,” she says. We do this and Kate puts out the candles. With the plastic cup, she makes a shallow grave, burying the stinking concoction of goat’s blood, fish heart, liver, and toad’s entrails. “You can get dressed now, it’ll quickly turn cold.”

As she says this the glow surrounding us becomes less and less until it disappears completely. The cowardly moon finally makes an appearance now that it’s all over. I catch a glimpse of it through the forest canopy, the little light it’s giving helps me locate exactly where I put my clothes. The air becomes chillier, and after giving my head a quick shake and brushing dirt off my face and chest, I throw on my clothes, beanie included. “So that’s it?” I ask, climbing to my feet, still wiping dirt off my forehead.

“That’s it,” she repeats.

I rummage in my jeans pocket for my flashlight. It’s a relief when I find it and switch it on. “So what happens now?”

We start walking toward the road. At least I assume we’re heading in the right direction. Personally I have no idea, but Kate seems sure of herself, so I follow close behind. “Wait and see, I guess,” she says.

She doesn’t sound too confident. “How long will it take, you reckon?”

“If the spell worked, then the curse should lift pretty much straightaway.”

“All right then!” I allow a little excitement. Maybe this whole crazy night will have been worth the adrenalin rush, among other things. “But how will I know if the curse has been lifted?”

“That’s pretty obvious,” she replies. “You won’t be so clumsy anymore and your family will have a break from their endless list of disasters.”

We come to the road and Kate walks me to my bike. There’s a lot more light now as clouds roll off, exposing a brilliant full moon. I switch off the flashlight. The miniature treasure chest is under her arm, and it reminds me of what we’ve just done. I suddenly feel awkward. How do I thank a witch for casting a spell that might lift a timeless family curse?

“Look,” I begin tentatively. “What happened tonight, I, er, well . . . Thanks, for your help.”

She smiles and looks brilliant. “It mightn’t work, you know. I’m only a novice, and the sorcerer who created this curse must’ve been a powerful alchemist.” She briefly looks away. Then adds softly, “You have to remember it wasn’t Old Magic, Jarrod.”

“So?”

“We’re dealing with a curse generated by magic that lived almost a thousand years ago. There was a sense of things, then, an intensity. It’s different today, far too commercialized. It’s caused a . . . well, kind of weakness. Jillian can work Old Magic, but there aren’t many like her. It’s a rare few that can handle it.”

“Well anyway, you tried and went to a lot of trouble for my sake.”

She shrugs. “That’s okay. I don’t get to practice powerful spells very often. There aren’t enough volunteers around here. Except for Hannah, and well, some spells are too dangerous to try on your best friend.”

She’s joking, and I know this because her eyes are laughing as she speaks, but it makes me realize just how seriously Kate is into this stuff. Magic, sorcery, witchcraft. I still have my doubts, but have to admit, Kate does have some eerie talents, like making the light out of the darkness, and the candles with flames that never burn down. Now that my brain is functioning normally again, I wonder how she managed these tricks.

I shine the flashlight at my watch but can’t read the digits.

“It’s four a.m.,” she says.

This leaves me stunned. Have we really been in the forest four hours? “I gotta go,” I say. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, I guess you’d better go.”

She sounds reluctant, mirroring my feelings exactly. Even though the temperature out here has to have fallen to minus five by now, I’m in no hurry to leave. I could stand here for the rest of the night as long as I’m with Kate. This realization hits me like a sledgehammer. I make myself move and get on my bike before I make a fool of myself. “See ya, and thanks again.”

She nods but her smile is slow. Her face is momentarily like an open book. She’s wondering if I’m going to pretend she doesn’t exist in class on Monday. I give a quick wave and start cycling, visualizing Tasha and Jessica, Pecs, Ryan, and Pete. There’s a comfort in the vision, knowing they’ve accepted me into their group. The pull is strong.

I wish I wasn’t such a coward. I hate myself. The thought occurs to me that Kate deserves better. She’s strong, stronger than me. She’s talented and beautiful, both in utterly unique ways. It makes her different and for that she is crucified mercilessly by the inner, elite crowd, ignored by others.

And me?

Well . . . I can’t say I’m any better.

Kate

It doesn’t work. The spell meant to lift that blasted curse. I realize first thing Monday morning when Jarrod turns up late for class, explaining to Mr. Dyson in History that he ran over an empty beer bottle, puncturing his bike tire. He backtracked home so his mother could drive him in, but the car wouldn’t start for seemingly no reason.

“This morning was the heaviest frost so far,” Mr. Dyson explains. He’s not angry or anything, which is good for Jarrod, who looks flustered enough already. “Tell your parents to put an antifreeze in your car’s radiator, it was probably just cold. All indications point to this year being a record cold winter.”

I don’t think Jarrod realizes the spell has failed until much later in the day during a practical PE lesson. We’re doing gymnastics and the boys have to form a pyramid with their bodies. Jarrod, not largely built like Pecs or some of the others, misses out on the ground level. After a lot of huffing and macho snorts Pecs settles down, and the bottom row is ready. Callum and Todd climb on next, leaving the inside position for Jarrod. As he starts to climb I hear a few snickers. It’s not nasty stuff, just Jarrod’s reputation preceding him. He’s clumsy, and everyone knows it. He’s continually misplacing things and tripping himself up. He’s not wearing his glasses now, but it would make no difference even if he was.

He’s on top of Pecs’s and Ryan’s backs and he’s looking good so far. The class starts cheering and whistling. He buries his head with an embarrassed smile. Ms. Milan tells everyone to quiet down, but she’s laughing a little herself. It’s good-natured and the atmosphere in the gym is relaxed.

Ben Moffat is the smallest sixteen-year-old boy I’ll probably ever meet. He had leukemia when he was a kid in second grade, and the chemo and radiation treatment slowed his growth. For all that he’s small, he’s physically fit, and it’s no effort for him to climb up to the first level. It’s only when he tries to balance on top of Jarrod and Todd that Jarrod somehow loses his balance. One knee drops, which causes him to tilt sharply sideways. Ben Moffat hurtles backward, the pyramid collapsing in a domino effect, and Ben nearly drowns under a mass of human flesh. Ms. Milan is quick to pull and push until she gets to him. She’s pretty sure his ankle is only sprained, but she wants an X ray just in case. Her main concern is the possibility of a cracked rib.

She lays blame nowhere, but Jarrod’s apologizing anyway. Ms. Milan sends someone to the office for help, dismissing the rest of us to the changing rooms.

Jarrod’s still sprawled on the heavy blue mats, his head buried in his hands. He looks up slowly and catches my eye. There’s recognition in his look and bitter disappointment. I smile and shrug. At least we tried. But he looks so depressed I feel like saying something comforting. Of course I don’t. Goodness knows how he might react with the others looking on. Until just then, he hadn’t acknowledged me in any way.

Tasha doesn’t hesitate though. She rushes to him and helps him up. He smiles and thanks her. My teeth gnash together. The whole sickening scene spoils the rest of the day.

Later, Jarrod catches up with me just outside the school grounds. We walk in silence for a while, heading home, but there isn’t a second I’m not aware of him. He makes me tense, and even though I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again, I just have to know what he’s feeling inside. So I probe, very carefully, into his mind.

Surprisingly there’s no resistance this time, and stranger still, I sense the walls aren’t there because that’s how he wants it. There’s disappointment I realize, deep concern, and confusion too. There’s a lot of doubt and I gather from this his belief in magic has shrunk even further. The spell has only made things worse.

He knows I’m in there yet he doesn’t stop me. It’s as if he wants me to sense his mood, understand what he’s feeling. It’s easier for him this way, rather than have to find words to explain himself. And this makes me angry. I can’t believe he lacks the courage to air his own feelings. What’s the matter with him?

The tension grows so thick I just have to say something or explode. “I’m sorry,” I mutter grumpily. “About the curse, and the spell that didn’t work.” He shrugs as if he doesn’t care, which is a cover-up for his real feelings, and this makes me angrier still. “It’s not the end of the world, for heaven’s sake!”

He shifts his backpack, reaching in for a bottle of water. “What do you suggest now?” He takes a long guzzle. “Should we sacrifice a virgin? What if you make me bathe in the water and eat the dirt? Or should we shave off my hair and feed it to a goat?”

“You don’t have to be a complete idiot.”

He groans loudly in self-disgust, snatching his drink bottle with his other hand. “I know, Kate. I’m sorry. None of this is your fault.”

His switch to self-pity is absolutely sickening. I hate this part of him. I have to snap him out of it somehow. “Wake up, Jarrod, it’s not your fault either!”

He doesn’t believe me. Since acknowledging the possibility of a curse he’s planted the entire worry of his family’s troubles on his own shoulders, taken responsibility personally for all that afflicts them, past and present.

“Jarrod, listen to me.” We reach the fork in the road. From here Jarrod takes the asphalt track west to his place about a kilometer away. I know where he’s staying—the old Wilson homestead. Vic Wilson died about five months back, leaving his estate to his solicitor son, Stephen, who lives in Sydney. Stephen never intended returning to Ashpeak, so decided to lease the place. It’s rundown, but not uninhabitable. “There’s a couple more things we can try.”

“Another magic spell, Kate?”