Page 80 of A Spot of Tea and Sorcery: Vol. 6

Luna recognized this site. Nigel had brought her here months ago, on her first day of work. He had sworn then, on his father’s grave, that he was a practicing sorcerer no more and would never craft any spells to harm her. It wasn’t the vow she’d wanted; she’d have preferred he swore never to practice any sorcery whatsoever. And when he’d refused to do so, she’d almost turned tail and fled then and there.

But she hadn’t. She couldn’t. Because something about that man, who was still little more than a stranger, had drawn her even then. Compelling her to seek his presence, to dwell in his atmosphere. And it was her ultimate undoing.

The Brotherhood had uprooted the stone and laid it out flat, transforming it into quite an effective sacrificial slab. Then they’d dragged her forward in her pale nightie, laid her out upon it, bound her with staked cords by the wrists and ankles. She lay spread-eagle, staring up at the storm-churning sky.

Garden was furious. High winds kicked up, and it kept fluctuating between extremes of hot and cold as it sought to purge its invaders. But these extremes never went too far, possibly for her sake. She suspected Garden feared hurting her. Dear, dear Garden. Who knew that their fates were bound to each other? Nigel had told her last night, while she lay in his arms, of the Brotherhood’s intention to drain Garden of its tremendous magic in their bid to feed the resurrection spell they had in mind.

Gods, if she’d known five months ago what she knew now, she never would have stayed on at The Arcane Bouquet. It was simply tempting fate for both the vessel and the power-source to be in such close proximity! If she’d had any idea of the details of the Brotherhood’s plan, she wouldn’t have risked it.

Luna blinked hard, tears flowing from the corners of her eyes. Perhaps she should regret her choices. But in the end, how could she? Even one short moment with Nigel was worth whatever pain must come. Would she still remember him when Jastira possessed her? She hoped so. She hoped she could hold onto at least some small measure of selfhood and memory, but . . . somehow she doubted Jastira would allow it.

The Brotherhood gathered around her, faceless entities in black hoods. There were ten of them, just as she’d once counted in her teacup vision. They’d not begun their great spell yet, but several of them muttered strange incantations over her, the awful language of sorcery issuing like poison from their hidden lips. Calista Anguish stood within Luna’s line of sight as well, watching the going’s on. Her red lipstick was smeared, her mascara ran down her face in gothic streams of black, and strange purple stains covered her chin, jaw, and neck. One could hardly remember the beautiful version of herself presented at the Governor’s Ball. She was quite hideous now.

“What are you doing?” she demanded in her crispest tones, which didn’t quite disguise the underscoring hysteria. “Why have you not begun the resurrection?”

A rather sullen and not-at-all ominous voice answered from beneath a deep cowl. “It’s those damn-blasted witches. They’ve gone and worked a Green Magic spell on her, and now she’s positivelybrimmingwith the stuff.”

“What stuff?” Calista demanded.

“Why, Green Magic, of course. It’s seething in her veins.”

Calista blinked hugely, her eyes looking owlish behind her smeared makeup. Then she threw up her hands. “Well, that’s no good, is it?” she shrieked. “Jastira can hardly be comfortable in a Green Magic host! I thought this girl was a sorceress?”

“She is,” the cowled figure replied. “See here?” He pointed at . . . well, Luna couldn’t see what he pointed at, actually.Something in the aether, perhaps. Something which only a highly-developed sorcerous perception could discern. “She’s got sorcery in her all right, only it’s been suppressed. But that spell old Blackmere put on her did a ruddy good job of waking it up again. It’s there, and there’s a lot of it. It’s just there’s all this Green Magic too.”

“Can’t you . . . I don’t know. Get rid of the Green?” Calista demanded.

“With a bit of time and patience—” the sorcerer began.

But Calista cut him off with a curse.“The Grimshade Lord is still out there!Somewhere!”She stretched out her hands, as though she wanted to wring the other sorcerer’s neck. “He’s coming for her. Don’t you understand? Do you want to be without our Lady’s protection when he arrives? Do you want to be the one to try to hold him off while the rest of us bring her back?”

Though the cowled figure’s face remained unseen, there was a wincing-ness about his demeanor as he shook his head.

“I thought not!” Calista turned in place, taking in the circle of sorcerers around the stone. “All of you,” she snapped, “open up an energy-force line during the summoning. That way, when our Lady arrives, she can channel our magic into her new self to counterbalance the Green Magic.”

“Now hold on!” one of the sorcerers erupted. “I don’t want my sorcery being drained, thank you very much!”

Calista whirled on him, viper-quick. “Weallmust sacrifice for the sake of our Shadowbane Lady! Do you want her back or don’t you?”

“Well, of course I want her back. It’s been bloody awful out there without her, what with all the anti-sorcery laws. No one can put the authorities in their place like Jastira can, but—”

“But what?”

“But what’s the point if we don’t have sorcery of our own at the end of all this?”

“So you’d rather continue your miserable existence as a scuttling little roach-man? A fugitive of the law, afraid to perform even the smallest conjuring for fear the SSSD will squash you under its heel?”

Several of the cowls turned to look at several others. Luna’s heart dared to lift the tiniest bit. Maybe these cowardly men wouldn’t have the guts to go through with it. Maybe her aunties, by awakening her Green Magic, had saved her. Maybe they would let her go, and she’d be able to go back to Nigel, and . . . and . . .

“I will join the circle,” Calista declared, stepping forward. “I will join and offer up my own energy line. There—does that shame you?” She threw her arms wide. “I, a woman, not even a member of your precious institute. Poisoned with severmist, crippled, and yet braver than any of you sniveling worms.” Her hands clenched into fists, and she shook them wildly. “We’ve come this far! We’ve got to see this through. Jastira can have what she needs off me. What say you, gentlemen? Are you man enough to serve and save your Lady?”

There was some embarrassed shuffling. Then, to Luna’s dismay, they began to nod. One after the other. And as Calista moved to the head of the stone, close to Luna’s face, they all stepped in to form a circle with her. Ten black figures and one pale woman, lifting up their arms together.

“My brothers!” Calista cried. “Let us begin! Let us call our great Queen back from the depths of the Void and restore the dignity of sorcery in this blighted world!”

Tears streamed from Luna’s eyes, thick and fast. She turned her head toward Calista. “Please!” she gasped, her voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t do this. Please.”

The woman cast her a single, withering look. Like she was a worm, like she was less than a worm. With a sneer, she lifted her head and began to speak the words of a dark language, beginning the chant, which the other sorcerers took up at once.