That Olde White Magick. Sharon Pape
a game plan, I leaned back against the counter. In the past, I’d experimented with telekinesis in a muddled way. As a result, I could never depend on it to work. One day I could slide a piece of furniture across the floor, but the next I couldn’t budge a paper clip. I told myself it was because of our recent overall problems with magick, but that was just taking the easy way out, and I knew it.
After fifteen minutes of pondering my options, I had only one idea spring to mind, but one was all I needed. I’d handle it like any bodybuilding program at the gym. In essence, it wasn’t all that different; I’d be building my telekinetic muscle. I’d start off with smaller, lighter objects and work my way up to larger, heavier ones. Then I’d add in the variable of distance.
I made myself comfortable in what I thought of as “the customer chair” and set my sights on The Beginners Book of Spells displayed on a table six feet away. I concentrated on lifting it off the two other books there without disturbing them. To my delight, the book wobbled in midair for a moment and then sailed easily into my hand. It wasn’t the first time I’d used telekinesis successfully. Travis could attest to that fact. But it was now a step completed in my training program.
Feeling a little cocky, I snagged an ornate canister filled with Tilly’s special blend of tea leaves. But instead of becoming airborne, it bumped along the table, scattering everything in its path. So much for patting myself on the back. I needed to stay focused. I cleared my mind and tried again. This time the tea tin lifted cleanly off the table and flew straight to me. Lesson learned. If I wanted telekinesis to work reliably, I had to give it my full attention regardless of the size of the object I was trying to move.
For my next test, I tried picking up the items I’d knocked onto the floor and putting them back on the table. Instead of moving them to me, I’d be moving them from one place to another, a slightly different skill. But before I could start, the phone rang.
“You need to get over here ASAP.” It was Tilly in full crisis mode.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, assorted disasters flashing through my mind. “Are you and Merlin okay?”
“We’re not in danger—yet, but you have to get over here.”
I told her I’d be there in five minutes. I made sure Sashki had water, set the alarm, and would have beat my estimate, but there were so many cars and people congregated at the intersection with her street that I couldn’t make any headway. I pulled to the curb, ignoring the No Parking signs posted every few feet, and jumped out to hoof it through the crowd.
I was getting close to her corner again when some of the people ahead of me started shrieking and running in my direction. I didn’t know what had caused their panic until I spotted a little red fox trotting after them. It looked more lost and confused than any animal I’d ever seen. Stranger still were the two cottontail bunnies hopping along in the fox’s wake. All was not right in the animal kingdom when rabbits chose to follow foxes and foxes had no interest in their favorite meal.
I picked up my pace. Turning onto Tilly’s block, I finally understood what had prompted her distress and had attracted the throngs of people. Under different circumstances, I might have had myself a good, long laugh, but although it was funny, it was even more sobering. I had no idea how I was going to explain it to the police.
Everywhere I looked there were furred and feathered woodland creatures. I felt as though I’d made a wrong turn onto the set of a Disney movie. Troops of squirrels, mice, rabbits, fox, deer, porcupine, and skunks roamed across the lawns and driveways of the homes. Raccoons, possums, and other nocturnal critters stood squinting in the sunlight, looking as bewildered as the fox that had crossed my path. I watched chickadees, robins, blackbirds, cardinals, hawks and dozens of other birds I couldn’t identify wheeling around the sky before settling in trees, on rooftops, and cars. Owls populated the fir trees. And dogs from miles around provided a deafening soundtrack to the craziness. It came as no surprise to find that Tilly’s house was ground zero.
Her neighbors were all out watching the spectacle, the bravest wandering among the animals, taking pictures, and petting furry heads. The less daring stayed on their porches or behind screen doors. Tilly and Merlin were conspicuous by their very absence. Although there was no police presence yet, I spied a van from the county’s animal-control unit parked haphazardly in the middle of the street. Whoever had alerted the unit must have failed to mention the scope of the animal invasion or a need for the police, an oversight for which I was grateful.
The driver was standing next to his vehicle, talking on a cell phone and gesticulating wildly with his free arm as if the person on the other end could see him. Even if he’d had enough equipment and men to round up the multitude of different creatures, he would have needed another hundred vans to cart them away. The most troubling part of the whole scene was that in the couple minutes I was standing there, the number of animals had grown. I had to get to my aunt’s house and try to rectify the situation, though I had no idea how to go about it. I ran through the crowds, dodging people and animals, especially the skunks.
Tilly must have been looking out the window because the front door swung open before I could ring the bell. She yanked me inside, shut the door, and double locked it.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said, her voice an octave higher than normal. Her forehead was shiny with perspiration, and her short red curls limp around her face. “You have to do something to stop it or...or...I don’t know what will happen.”
“Where’s Merlin?” I asked. She pointed in the direction of the living room. “Okay, Aunt Tilly. I want you to go make us a nice pot of tea.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ll do,” Tilly said, grabbing onto the idea as though it were a lifeline. She headed full throttle toward the kitchen. “A pot of tea is always helpful. I should bake something to go with it.”
I found Merlin pacing in the living room. Isenbale, my aunt’s big Maine Coon, was walking in and out of his legs so that the two of them look like a well-rehearsed dance team. For his part, Merlin seemed completely unaware the cat was there. He was muttering to himself, most of the words garbled or in another language. I walked right up to him so that he had no choice but to stop or crash into me. At the last possible moment, he came to such a sudden stop that Isenbale was caught between his legs. The cat yowled in protest, wriggled free of his prison, and fled.
“I was not aware you were expected,” Merlin said, sounding equally irritated.
“I’m here to help,” I said. “What happened? What went wrong?”
“I was lonely for the creatures that populate the woods near my home, so I cast a simple spell to summon a few of them. The spell appears to have become stuck in an open-ended position, and I can’t remember how to reverse the bloody thing.”
“What were you thinking? You know we’ve been having trouble with our magick here. How about your wand? Would that help?” I asked. I hadn’t seen him with it since the day he found the wood for it.
“I gave up on it,” he said. “It appears I am every bit as talented without it. Perhaps it is a necessity for lesser practitioners of the magickal arts.”
“Okay,” I said, unable to debate the fact since I’d never found a wand to be helpful either. “But you must have a failsafe spell for emergencies.”
“I’ve never needed such a thing,” he snapped. “What is wrong with this cursed era of yours?”
“If you had listened to me and not cast any spells, we wouldn’t be having this problem, would we? And in case you’ve forgotten, pizza and computers are also products of this era.”
I took a deep breath. Arguing and assigning blame were not going to fix the problem. I vaguely recalled Bronwen teaching me an incantation to stop and reverse spells. I couldn’t have been more than five at the time. She had insisted I learn it by heart before she would teach me how to cast my first spell. But what was it? My mind was racing helter-skelter, skimming the surface of my memory. I was on the verge of giving up when I heard a familiar voice say,
“A spell