Maps, Artifacts, and Other Arcane Magic (Dowser Series Book 5) by Meghan Ciana Doidge
Authors: Meghan Ciana Doidge
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draw the circle, watching as Scarlett lit the last few candles.
They were going to help me erect the protection spell. A ward based on blood magic. A vein of magic that Gran, at least, had spent decades denouncing and policing via the Convocation.
Emotion tightened my chest and neck, threatening to choke me. I stumbled on the rickety wooden steps that led from the pantry to the basement.
I’d expected condemnation. I’d expected to be disowned. Any respectable witch who performed blood magic or black magic would likely end up excommunicated for the practice.
Of course, this wasn’t my first time.
And I really wasn’t a witch.
Gran looked up at my stumble, set the broom against the boxes and wooden storage pallets behind her, and reached her hand out to me. “Come,” she said. “If it’s to be done, it should be done quickly.”
Scarlett set a fourth candle at the eastern edge of the circle, then straightened to take Gran’s other hand.
I closed the space between us, quickly shucking my boots and tights so I stood barefoot in the packed dirt at the west edge of the circle. I linked hands with my mother and Gran. They’d also removed their shoes. The portal, so well hidden that even Warner hadn’t known it was there, thrummed contentedly away on the patched concrete and brick of the east wall.
“Your magic is depleted,” I murmured. The taste of strawberry and lilac lingered on the back of my tongue, but not as strongly as usual.
“The weight of the spell won’t fall to us,” Gran said. “We’re here to anchor you.”
“So I don’t get lost in the blood magic.”
“Don’t make light of it, Jade,” Scarlett said, as chastising as I’d ever heard her.
“It’s the only way I know how to secure you quickly,” I said. “I’ll have to go after her. She has the map.”
“We know,” Scarlett whispered, sad but supportive at the same time.
“We’re here,” Gran said. “Now gather the magic before it degrades further. Gather the magic in your blood. Allow it to remain anchored where the drops have fallen. But weave it together, then command it to do your bidding. Scarlett and I will hold the circle.”
I closed my eyes and reached out with my dowser senses to find every drop of blood I’d left all around the edges of the bakery and the apartment, inside and out.
Normally I couldn’t taste or see my own magic. Wisteria, the reconstructionist, had once told me it was blue-gold in color. But now that it was parted from me, I could feel it. I could feel it waiting for me. Blood heeded blood.
I’d created two other magical objects with blood magic before. One was the sacrificial knife I’d originally created in London one terrible night to free a young necromancer, Mory, from my sister’s evil machinations, and which I’d painstakingly reshaped into a more traditional dagger and given to Warner for Christmas. I’d also drained and sealed Sienna’s magic — both stolen and natural magic — into the katana my father had given me. I hadn’t deliberately used blood magic that night in Tofino. But blood — mine and Sienna’s — had coated the sword, and I was fairly certain that was what made that particular act of alchemy possible. Thankfully, that terrible creation was in Pulou’s possession now.
I’d also sealed the spells on my jade knife with my own blood, but only after I’d been stabbed with it twice by Sienna. So I didn’t consider that a deliberate practice of black magic, though perhaps I was being willfully blind.
I might not be well versed in blood magic, but I did know that every object I created with alchemy — blood based or just energy driven — wanted to return to me. Magic heeded magic.
So even though finding the drops of blood was as easy as closing my eyes, calling the magic in each drop to the forefront, smoothing and connecting it to the drops on either side, then reaching out to stretch those points of magic up and out until they enveloped the
They were going to help me erect the protection spell. A ward based on blood magic. A vein of magic that Gran, at least, had spent decades denouncing and policing via the Convocation.
Emotion tightened my chest and neck, threatening to choke me. I stumbled on the rickety wooden steps that led from the pantry to the basement.
I’d expected condemnation. I’d expected to be disowned. Any respectable witch who performed blood magic or black magic would likely end up excommunicated for the practice.
Of course, this wasn’t my first time.
And I really wasn’t a witch.
Gran looked up at my stumble, set the broom against the boxes and wooden storage pallets behind her, and reached her hand out to me. “Come,” she said. “If it’s to be done, it should be done quickly.”
Scarlett set a fourth candle at the eastern edge of the circle, then straightened to take Gran’s other hand.
I closed the space between us, quickly shucking my boots and tights so I stood barefoot in the packed dirt at the west edge of the circle. I linked hands with my mother and Gran. They’d also removed their shoes. The portal, so well hidden that even Warner hadn’t known it was there, thrummed contentedly away on the patched concrete and brick of the east wall.
“Your magic is depleted,” I murmured. The taste of strawberry and lilac lingered on the back of my tongue, but not as strongly as usual.
“The weight of the spell won’t fall to us,” Gran said. “We’re here to anchor you.”
“So I don’t get lost in the blood magic.”
“Don’t make light of it, Jade,” Scarlett said, as chastising as I’d ever heard her.
“It’s the only way I know how to secure you quickly,” I said. “I’ll have to go after her. She has the map.”
“We know,” Scarlett whispered, sad but supportive at the same time.
“We’re here,” Gran said. “Now gather the magic before it degrades further. Gather the magic in your blood. Allow it to remain anchored where the drops have fallen. But weave it together, then command it to do your bidding. Scarlett and I will hold the circle.”
I closed my eyes and reached out with my dowser senses to find every drop of blood I’d left all around the edges of the bakery and the apartment, inside and out.
Normally I couldn’t taste or see my own magic. Wisteria, the reconstructionist, had once told me it was blue-gold in color. But now that it was parted from me, I could feel it. I could feel it waiting for me. Blood heeded blood.
I’d created two other magical objects with blood magic before. One was the sacrificial knife I’d originally created in London one terrible night to free a young necromancer, Mory, from my sister’s evil machinations, and which I’d painstakingly reshaped into a more traditional dagger and given to Warner for Christmas. I’d also drained and sealed Sienna’s magic — both stolen and natural magic — into the katana my father had given me. I hadn’t deliberately used blood magic that night in Tofino. But blood — mine and Sienna’s — had coated the sword, and I was fairly certain that was what made that particular act of alchemy possible. Thankfully, that terrible creation was in Pulou’s possession now.
I’d also sealed the spells on my jade knife with my own blood, but only after I’d been stabbed with it twice by Sienna. So I didn’t consider that a deliberate practice of black magic, though perhaps I was being willfully blind.
I might not be well versed in blood magic, but I did know that every object I created with alchemy — blood based or just energy driven — wanted to return to me. Magic heeded magic.
So even though finding the drops of blood was as easy as closing my eyes, calling the magic in each drop to the forefront, smoothing and connecting it to the drops on either side, then reaching out to stretch those points of magic up and out until they enveloped the
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