DARK ARTS
CHAPTER ONE
~JOELY~
“Come on. Hurry! It’s almost midnight.” Nessa’s soft voice carries through the darkness of the forest that surrounds my parents’ estate. The edge of her white nightgown floats out behind her, flashing in the intermittent moonlight as she hurries ahead of me through the trees.
I follow on the narrow footpath, my knee-high boots crunching on the carpet of twigs and leaves and forest fall. “I don’t think it will matter if we’re a minute late. Magic isn’t that punctual,” I say.
She laughs and then stops walking, waiting for me to catch up. “You’re right. Sorry. I’m just excited.” I can’t see her face very clearly in the dark, but I can hear her nervous smile in her voice, and it makes me smile, too.
Nessa is my best friend since forever and while this isn’t the first time we’ve snuck out to cast spells in the night, this time feels different from the others. In the past we’d be giggling and excited as if we were getting our fortunes told or playing with a ouija board, knowing deep down that it was all just for fun and not really expecting anything to come of it. But after discovering a spell book for non-magical users in my parents’ library, the tingle of possibility has been hovering over all of our plans. It’s the first time either of us truly has our hearts set on an actual, meaningful outcome.
I clutch the old copy of The Non-Mage’s Guide to Practical Magic to my chest as I walk, trying not to move it too much. We found the book in an unlabeled box in the back of my parents’ library. It was stuffed in among lots of other boxes in storage, covered in dust and tied with twine. There was a yellowed square on the box that looked like a label had once been stuck there, but whatever it was had long since worn off. I don’t know what made me open this box, but when I grabbed it to move it aside, my fingers went right for the string.
The book was wrapped in cheesecloth, so brittle that it fell apart when I touched it. The leather cover is cracked and split, and the yellowed pages demand the most gentle touch. But the binding is strong and the text on each page is clear and legible. When I opened the cover and saw the title, it sent a prickle over my skin. A grimoire for non-magic users? Sign me up!
That’s right… Nessa and I are what they call nonners or non-magical people born to magical families. Being a nonner isn’t good or bad, it just is. I mean… there’s a pecking order, just like with anything, I guess. There will always be those who are jerks about being more powerful than others, but being a nonner doesn’t make us freaks. It isn’t rare. There’s a large population of non-mages in the world. We all live and work alongside the mages. We have careers and jobs just like everyone else.
Though we don’t have magical abilities ourselves, it is possible to invoke magic into charms if you have the effective spells and the circumstances are just right. And tonight’s full moon with a total lunar eclipse is the perfect time for casting a spell to influence the future.
Tonight’s spell is mainly for Nessa. She’s here to soothe an ache in her heart. She’s been flirting with the gardener’s son, Ash. He’s a nonner, like us, and grew up with all of us on the estate. She’s crushing so hard on him that she can barely contain herself. With school starting next month, the three of us are heading back soon for another year at Covington University, a school for non-magical study of the magical world. Nessa’s hoping to spark something with Ash.
We settled on a charm that would make Ash take notice of Nessa. It made no promise of love as a result of the attention, which was probably the best way to go about it anyway, since forcing someone to fall in love wasn’t especially romantic, and all she really wanted was for Ash to stop seeing her as the childhood friend she was and start recognizing her as the woman she’s become. If that leads to a romance, all the better, but if not, she swore that she was prepared to accept whatever came.
I’ve also got a wish of my own that needs a little push. I hadn’t been able to put my finger on what to ask for—it’s always been more of a feeling—so I didn’t know how I should put anything in motion for it, but tonight, I’m going to try.
I’ve always felt like there was something else I was meant to do. Nothing grand or amazing or particularly special, just something… more. I’ve been studying magical law at school for the past three years. That path has always been right there, laid out for me since I was little. As the daughter of a judge, it’s definitely following in his footsteps. But the truth is, I no longer know if that’s what I want to do. There has always been this sense that there is something else waiting for me that I haven’t tapped yet. It’s as if I am on the verge of it, like it’s going to appear around the next corner somehow and all I have to do is keep on walking.
I don’t know. I haven’t been able to break it down enough to give words to what I am feeling, and if I’m being totally honest, it’s too embarrassing to discuss it with anyone. So, I keep it to myself. But tonight, once I set the charm in motion for Nessa and Ash, I’ve decided to give my secret wish a little boost as well.
“Almost there!” Nessa’s breathless in her excitement now that we’re about to arrive.
There’s a small henge on the eastern-most edge of my family’s estate that used to be the center of everything in this part of the country. The way that Nessa’s parents, who’ve been the caretakers of this estate for generations, talk, it has an almost legendary history about it. They say witches from all over trekked here, to Moorcliff Manor, to observe the sacred rituals and practice magic at our henge. This goes back to before the mansion and the rest of the estate was built, long before my family came here, and years before the newer bluestone henge was built on the west side of the estate.
The new henge sits on the cliff overlooking the sea. It’s beautiful and impressive, and you can hear the ocean waves crashing into the rocks all the way at the bottom in a constant bass rumble. I go there sometimes to read, but I prefer the old henge. The old one isn’t much to look at, and it’s a long walk to get there from the house through the woods, but the old granite stones stand tall and proud, and the grounds around the circle are lush with wildflowers and soft green ferns. The lesser henge, as they now call it, is smaller, and it has become overgrown and a bit untamed, but even I can feel that this one is where the energy lives closest to the surface.
Nessa places the wicker basket on the low stone bench and lifts the top, revealing all the things we’ll need for tonight’s ritual. I place the bundled book on the bench and unwrap it, opening the non-mage’s grimoire to the correct page.
Nessa glances at the diagram in the moonlight. “I’ll get the candles set up.”
The diagram is pretty simple, and so are the instructions, but given our lack of power and the fact that we need every bit of help we can get, we make sure to go over every step without rushing, checking each thing a second and third time.
This charm calls for candles anointed with oil to be placed at each of the cardinal points; north, east, west, and south. I take a jar of ceremonial oil and touch a dot on each candle. Nessa places each one on a silver dish up against the stones. Once the candles are lit, Nessa spreads flower petals around the inside of the henge, forming a circle made from the flowers grown in the garden tended by Ash. Then she takes the sage bundle from the basket, lights it, and begins walking around the circle, chanting the cleansing words as the smoke fills the air and clings to us and the stones and the ground, clearing the air for the magical energy to find us and take hold.
I place a bowl in the center of the circle as an offering to the spirits of the night, and lay a sprig of spruce, a handful of dried corn, and more of the flowers from Ash’s garden inside. When everything is in place, I pull the final thing we need from my pocket. I untie the ribbon and unroll four pieces of linen, cut into eight inch squares. I’ve sewn glyph combinations into each of them for truth, love, openness, and purpose.
The charm called for the glyphs to be drawn on paper, but embroidery is something I’ve always turned to when my hands crave action. When I was making these glyphs, I let the designs take on a life of their own. They ended up looking like elaborate tapestries with warm autumn colors filling in the spaces around the thick brown lines that made up the glyphs.
Nessa appears next to me as I place one of the squares under the north candle. “Joely! Did you make these?” She pulls one of the squares from the stack in my hand and runs her hand over the glossy thread which shines in the flickering light from the candle.
I nod as a swell of pride fills my chest. “It seemed important. For tonight.” Two of them are for her spell—love and openness, and the others are for me—truth and purpose.
“They. Are. Gorgeous. Might be your best work yet.”
When the other glyph squares are in place, I stand up and brush the dirt from my hands, watching the moon. The first hint of the eclipse is visible, obscuring the bright edge in muddy shadow.
“It’s time!” Nessa whispers, clasping her hands together.
“Okay.” I pick up the bowl from the center of the henge. “Sit here, facing the moon.”
Nessa sits down, positioning herself with her legs crossed. I hand her the bowl and she smiles.
Once Nessa’s in place, I go back to the book and read the incantation we chose for tonight’s purpose. There are parts of it that we had to change to fit our needs, as directed by the instructions, but all in all, I think we did an okay job.
I stand behind Nessa, the jar of oil in my hand. “All right. Close your eyes and think of Ash,” I whisper, feeling the nervous tremble coursing through her. “Repeat after me.”
“I am a child of earth, of fire,
of water, and of air.
I seek to open the eyes and the mind
of the one for whom I care.
Should there be a spark of love to be,
I welcome it fully and will it to me.”
I dip my finger in the oil and trace a line down the center of Nessa’s forehead. Nessa’s voice sounds small and breathy as she recites the lines after me. I move around the circle, stopping in front of each candle, marking each stone with a dab of oil as I whisper the words for Nessa at each one. “Nessa is a child of earth, of fire, of water, and of air…”
When it’s done, I close my eyes and let the night take the last echoes away. The moon is halfway concealed by shadow now, and the woods have grown even darker around us. Nessa stands up and places the bowl back on the ground, where it will stay until morning. Now that her charm has been cast, she moves silently back to the bench and sits with her hands folded in her lap, smiling up at the moon.
After a charm is cast, it is customary to thank the energy and spirit for any guidance and help. But before I do that, it’s time for my part. I move to the center of the henge and face the moon, lifting my hands to my sides.
I trace a line of oil onto my own forehead and then, facing the sky, I close my eyes and recite the words I’d memorized, my voice barely a whisper.
“I am a child of earth, of water,
of fire, and of air.
I seek to know my true self
with an open mind and a heart fair.
I wish for my purpose to be revealed
with truth and love.
So I may walk my path
with guidance from above.”
I place my hands together and move them to my face as if cupping water from a bowl and washing it over me. Then I touch the four stones in the cardinal positions, whispering my words like I did for Nessa.
When I open my eyes, two huge black birds land on the henge stone in front of me, their dark eyes watching me over their long, curved beaks.
The lunar eclipse is complete. The only light around us comes from the flickering of the candles around the circle of the henge. The firelight makes the ravens’ feathers shine.
I stand frozen, staring at the two birds. One of them takes off for the trees. The other one continues to watch me, tilting its head back and forth, turning a little and glancing down to my feet and back to my face as if to get a proper good look at me.
The raven opens its beak and croaks out a deep, resonant warble that makes my skin break out in goosebumps. I feel like it’s trying to talk to me, and the thought makes me smile.
“What are you doing there, bird?” I whisper and take a step toward it.
The raven spreads its wings and flies at me, dropping from the tall stone and sailing across the circle to me in a flash of glistening black. It crashes into my chest, but instead of feeling the impact, it feels like something inside my body cracks open and lets the bird inside.
Light flashes before my eyes as the world spins away from me. I see the stones and the circle of petals, and Nessa on the bench, the candles sitting on the glyph squares, and the bowl of our offering… all of it growing smaller and smaller as I am lifted into the air.
The ravens circle and hover in front of my face, keeping steady with me as I float back down to the ground. The birds watch me with their dark eyes as a humming fills my ears. It’s like a human voice combined with the rolling call of the raven, and it sings into my heart with a longing ache so deep that it brings tears to my eyes.
The sound of a woman’s voice echoes into the night, a distant scream over the humming. Then, a series of images flash in my mind. Fiery red eyes, a wolf howling, sparkling flames like fireworks curling into the night. A flash of fangs comes at me from the shadows and tears at my throat. I try to scream, but the wound is too big and there is too much blood and the woman screams again as the fangs flash once more. The ravens are back, circling again, pecking at my hands as if nudging me to move. But I’m frozen in this world of blood and teeth and death from the shadows.
The woman’s scream comes again, and this time it morphs from a keening wail into the howl of a wolf as it fades away. I turn to the wolf, pleading for help, but it’s walking away from me, disappearing under the evergreen boughs. Don’t go. I’m afraid. I send my thought to the wolf. The huge beast turns back and his words appear in my head as if I heard them, though he hasn’t spoken either.
*You’re not alone. Go to them. Their blood calls for you.*
I’m falling. The black birds circle over me and the wind whips through my hair and bites at my skin. One of the birds peels off and flies out of view, and the other dives directly for me again. When it hits me, I feel the impact like a burst of heat across my chest. It sends me hurtling faster toward the ground. I land on my back, my body buffeted and protected by the grass as if I’ve fallen on a soft mattress.
When I open my eyes, Nessa’s face fills my vision, her cool hands are on my cheeks.
“Joely? Joely! Oh, thank the goddess you’re all right.” She looks scared and her face is very pale in the morning light.
Morning light? But the eclipse was happening only a moment ago. I blink up at my friend and realize she’s been crying. Her face is smeared with tears and her eyes are puffy.
“What happened?” I whisper.
“You… Joely… I think. I…” She shakes her head as if she’s confused.
“What?” I sit up and glance around the circle, trying to decipher the cascade of emotions running through me. The candles have gone out, everything is covered in dew. I hug myself, remembering the cry of the woman in the vision… trying to shake the feeling that I am more alone than I have ever been in my life.
“I can’t believe it. I mean. I know what I saw. And… holy shit, Joely.”
I realize absently that Nessa’s been talking nonstop.
I shake my head. “What?”
“I saw those crows and then… I saw you. You did something with your hands and you… you…”
“Ravens,” I say.
“What?”
“They weren’t crows, they were ravens.” I touch my chest where the one bird dove into me. There’s a low humming vibration inside my ribcage that makes me feel like I can take off right now and sprout wings.
“Oh.” She waves the thought away. “Crows, ravens, whatever. That doesn’t matter. Joely… you flew.”
My mouth goes dry as I take in her words. “I what?”
She nods. “You flew.”
“Flew?”
She nods again, her eyes wide. “Floated. Levitated, whatever. You were hanging out in the air, like twenty feet up, with those two birds flying circles around you.”
I laugh because it sounds totally ridiculous. “That isn’t possible.” I replay the events of the past few moments in my head, and sure enough… I remember floating, but… “I thought I dreamt it.”
“Um. Nope. It was totally real. And you know what it means?”
“What does it mean?” The question makes my stomach drop and my skin break out in a flash of sweat, as if I were a little girl about to get into a heap of trouble.
Nessa smiles and wipes a tear from her cheek. “Joely, you have magic.”
I have magic.
As if to punctuate her declaration, the two huge ravens break from the trees and sail over us and across the henge, their twin calls like a sign from beyond the veil. Part of me wants to dismiss what happened here tonight as some kind of weird fever dream that Nessa and I shared. Maybe it was a hallucination brought on by inhaling the smoke from the herbs we were burning.
But the other part of me, the part that knows I am very much awake and can feel the chilly night air in my lungs and the rush of blood pulsing through my skin can’t deny the surging ball of energy that is now dancing inside my body like a tornado.
I still feel like me, only it’s like I’ve plugged in. It’s like something slid into place—a switch has been thrown inside me, a huge lever pulled from off to on, closing the loop on a dormant circuit and making my entire being come alive for the first time.
* * *
Nessa helps me back to the house and up to my room. I pull out a pair of leggings and a tee shirt for her since our witchy-white nightgowns are filthy. My nightgown is actually torn and I’m covered in mud.
I peel it off and toss it onto the floor, and turn on the shower. When I step in front of the mirror, try to wipe off a smear of mud from my chest, but it doesn’t come off. I lean in closer and grab a washcloth, soaking it under the faucet.
I scrub at my chest, and I do manage to wash away some dirt, but what’s left looks like a tattoo.
“Nessa?”
She can tell by my tone that something’s wrong. She bursts into the bathroom and stares at my chest. “Whoa. What is that?” She runs her fingers over the mark as I lean into the mirror again.
In the center of my chest, just below my collar bone, I have what looks like a tattoo of a black raven. It’s about the size of my hand. The raven’s wings are outstretched and its tail fans out behind it, the long center feathers dipping downward. The head is turned to the right and its curved beak is open just a little, as if it’s about to speak.
I lay my hand on my chest, covering the raven. The energy inside me surges as if in response. “Oh my god,” I whisper.
