I’ll see what I can arrange.”
Chapter Thirteen
I was sitting crossed-legged in the center of my living room, facing north, in the direction of my big sliding glass door. Beyond the open curtains, the ritzy apartment tower across the street was veritably on fire with the setting sun, its glass façade reflecting and refracting the light.
I was practicing casting spells and mixing potions, all under the careful—and ghostly—eye of Millicent Laurie, although I doubted she used her last name much these days.
After spending nearly an hour trying to cast a money spell, I finally gave up. It wasn’t that the spell itself was hard, or that the phrasing was difficult, or that it was particularly challenging to combine the various ingredients of the potion together. No, that was actually all very easy.
My problem was simple: belief.
I didn’t believe in what I was doing. I didn’t believe that doing a basic spell could create a windfall of money for me, or anyone else. Seeing into the future, seeing long distance, reading Samantha’s mind...and even telekinesis...yes, all of this I could believe. I lived it each day, after all.
But money spells?
That’s where I drew the line. And this was coming from someone who had seen a person turn into a giant bat. And had seen another turn into a werewolf.
Sadly, my mind drew the line at wishing for more money...and creating it.
After going through the money spell again—at Millicent’s insistence—I finally tossed aside the spell book, and got up and headed into the kitchen. There, I took out a Pabst Blue Ribbon, and popped open the can.
I was drinking heavily from it when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. That would be Millicent, of course. I ignored her and my erect hair follicles and kept drinking. When I was about halfway done with the beer, a mostly see-through Millicent was now standing before me, shimmering and hovering and looking creepy as hell. She also didn’t look happy.
“You lack faith, child.” Her voice was whispery and faint and it appeared just inside my ear. This time, her lips didn’t move. Nor did they have to.
“ You think?” I said.
“ Why is that?”
“ Because money doesn’t just appear out of thin air. You might appear out of thin air, but money doesn’t.”
“ Some of what we do is instant, I agree. But other things—spell casting, for instance—takes time to develop. Hence, the need for faith.”
“ No one uses words like hence anymore, Millicent. Get with the times.” Yes, I was feeling cranky and a little belligerent. “Besides, I make enough money to get by.”
If she was offended by my little outburst, she didn’t show it. She remained standing calmly in front of me, hands crossed before her. “The exercise isn’t about making you more money, child. The exercise is to develop your spell-casting skills...and to develop your faith, as well.”
“Well, I suppose I could use the extra money. There is, after all, a reason why I work two jobs.” In fact, I was pretty sure I was the only person living in Beverly Hills who lived from paycheck to paycheck.
Throughout this pity party, Millicent watched me closely, rising and falling gently on currents unseen and unfelt by me. These days, Millicent appeared to me as a woman in her late thirties, maybe a little older than me. At first, she had presented herself as an older woman, as she had looked at the time of her passing. As time went on, and we got to know each other better, she appeared to be aging backward.
I knew I had major hang-ups with money. I had grown up in a low-income household, and I knew I had been holding onto the false belief that wealth was for the fortunate, the gifted, the blessed.
I knew this belief was wrong. Certainly, I deserved money as well as the next person. Hell, maybe even more so. I worked my ass off at two jobs and still drove a lame car.
No, it wasn’t lame, I thought. It was a very good car that worked
Chapter Thirteen
I was sitting crossed-legged in the center of my living room, facing north, in the direction of my big sliding glass door. Beyond the open curtains, the ritzy apartment tower across the street was veritably on fire with the setting sun, its glass façade reflecting and refracting the light.
I was practicing casting spells and mixing potions, all under the careful—and ghostly—eye of Millicent Laurie, although I doubted she used her last name much these days.
After spending nearly an hour trying to cast a money spell, I finally gave up. It wasn’t that the spell itself was hard, or that the phrasing was difficult, or that it was particularly challenging to combine the various ingredients of the potion together. No, that was actually all very easy.
My problem was simple: belief.
I didn’t believe in what I was doing. I didn’t believe that doing a basic spell could create a windfall of money for me, or anyone else. Seeing into the future, seeing long distance, reading Samantha’s mind...and even telekinesis...yes, all of this I could believe. I lived it each day, after all.
But money spells?
That’s where I drew the line. And this was coming from someone who had seen a person turn into a giant bat. And had seen another turn into a werewolf.
Sadly, my mind drew the line at wishing for more money...and creating it.
After going through the money spell again—at Millicent’s insistence—I finally tossed aside the spell book, and got up and headed into the kitchen. There, I took out a Pabst Blue Ribbon, and popped open the can.
I was drinking heavily from it when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. That would be Millicent, of course. I ignored her and my erect hair follicles and kept drinking. When I was about halfway done with the beer, a mostly see-through Millicent was now standing before me, shimmering and hovering and looking creepy as hell. She also didn’t look happy.
“You lack faith, child.” Her voice was whispery and faint and it appeared just inside my ear. This time, her lips didn’t move. Nor did they have to.
“ You think?” I said.
“ Why is that?”
“ Because money doesn’t just appear out of thin air. You might appear out of thin air, but money doesn’t.”
“ Some of what we do is instant, I agree. But other things—spell casting, for instance—takes time to develop. Hence, the need for faith.”
“ No one uses words like hence anymore, Millicent. Get with the times.” Yes, I was feeling cranky and a little belligerent. “Besides, I make enough money to get by.”
If she was offended by my little outburst, she didn’t show it. She remained standing calmly in front of me, hands crossed before her. “The exercise isn’t about making you more money, child. The exercise is to develop your spell-casting skills...and to develop your faith, as well.”
“Well, I suppose I could use the extra money. There is, after all, a reason why I work two jobs.” In fact, I was pretty sure I was the only person living in Beverly Hills who lived from paycheck to paycheck.
Throughout this pity party, Millicent watched me closely, rising and falling gently on currents unseen and unfelt by me. These days, Millicent appeared to me as a woman in her late thirties, maybe a little older than me. At first, she had presented herself as an older woman, as she had looked at the time of her passing. As time went on, and we got to know each other better, she appeared to be aging backward.
I knew I had major hang-ups with money. I had grown up in a low-income household, and I knew I had been holding onto the false belief that wealth was for the fortunate, the gifted, the blessed.
I knew this belief was wrong. Certainly, I deserved money as well as the next person. Hell, maybe even more so. I worked my ass off at two jobs and still drove a lame car.
No, it wasn’t lame, I thought. It was a very good car that worked
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