The Demon's Revenge (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 4) by Katherine Sparrow Page A

cocoa powder and a couple of brown eggs I found in the refrigerator.
    “For binding?” Lila asked. “They’re local — from my neighbors who keep chickens. That will help root the spell in localization, right? The herbs are all grown in Seattle, too, from my patio and some from the farmer’s market on Broadway.”
    “Excellent,” I said. It had been months since I’d offered her any instructions, but it seemed she had been learning, nonetheless.
    “Should we make some kind of paste of it?” she asked, studying the gathered components of the spell’s recipe.
    I looked at them as well. The magic of spells never lived in the physical elements it embodied, but in the strands of magic I wove and put into it. However, a good vessel for a spell, one that mirrored the spell’s objective, could amplify the spell. “We’ll make door cookies and bake them,” I said.
    “That’s so cute,” Lila said.
    I rolled my eyes, but I rather liked the idea myself.
    Lila found some flour, sugar and butter, and pulled out a chipped mixing bowl. She began adding different herbs, looking at me for confirmation each time she threw in a handful of basil or some sprigs of chamomile.
    “Excellent,” I said. “Trust your instincts around making the vessel. It’s an art, not a science, and you may not always have me around to help you.”
    “Says the immortal,” she said as she eyed her yarrow tincture. She put in one dropperful, and then another. “Are you thinking about going on a trip? Going somewhere that no one knows you and just being chill for a while? I get that. Whatever you need to get over the Grail stuff. I get that.”
    She didn’t. She couldn’t understand the weight of the years and all of my wrong decisions. I sighed and watched as she stirred it all together with a thick wooden spoon made of madrone wood.
    I turned from her and walked to the window. I looked out at the weakening afternoon sun, and then closed my eyes. I turned inward as I felt the sun’s light seep into my skin. I breathed in deep and sought the magic within me that would make the spell. I drew on my wells of sadness and loss, pulling up thick skeins of them, and adding in loneliness and lethargy. The four strands stood in my mind’s eye as pieces of yarn, a useful metaphor for spell making. I pulled them together and used a series of shroud knots to tie them and interweave them so that all four strands were bound and touching each other. With my eyes still closed I tested the spell’s strength. It made me feel drowsy, maudlin, and bored. Perfect for the null spot we were seeking. Like would call to like.
    I opened my eyes and slowly walked to the bowl of batter that Lila stirred, keeping my knotted magic alive and well-knit within me. Lila stepped aside when I neared. I plunged my hands into the dough, coating my knuckles and palms in the sticky batter. I let the magic throb out of me and into the herby mixture. It shone with a green light before it bound and disappeared.
    “Even though I’ve seen you do that kind of thing a lot,” Lila said, “it’s still so cool that magic is real.”
    She pulled out a battered aluminum cooking sheet from under her oven and we grabbed handfuls of dough and shaped them. I would miss this rooted work of making spells. I would miss teaching Lila what I knew.
    I smooshed the dough onto the cooking sheet in a rough rectangular shape, and Lila did the same. I made both door cookies more symmetrical while Lila used the point of a chopstick to draw a door handle on the doors. The shapes felt good. They felt like they would take me to the door, when the time came. The oven dinged and Lila slid the cookies in.
    Someone knocked on the door.
    “Pizza,” Lila said.
    I grabbed my wallet and opened the door.
    And stood there.
    And stared.

 
     
     
     
     
    10
    Lost
    “Lila!” Adam said and strode past me. Lila ran toward him, and Adam grabbed her in a hug and then a kiss. He lifted her off the ground and swung