“Yeah,” I said, “I kinda got that. How the hell did you shake off the working like that?”
“Oh, I felt it,” he said, “but it didn’t take. I’m half Fae, on my pop’s side, whoever the fuck he was. A lot of magic just doesn’t stick to me too well. Comes in handy when dealing with low-life, sucker-punching wizard types.”
“You’re an Elf,” I said. Vigil paused from pulling his helmet over his head and locked eyes with me. He knew that I knew what being an Elf meant in his world.
“You have a problem with that,” he said. It wasn’t a question, it was a challenge.
“Nah,” I said. “Mind if I call you ‘Dobby’?”
“Mind if I beat all the red out of your neck?” His bike roared to life.
“I’ll take that as a no,” I said and started the Streetfighter up. We pulled away from the curb in search of burgers and beers.
FIVE
I woke up around ten and prepared everything I needed for the ritual, pulling items from my old canvas bag. Vigil was up already, of course, out on the deck overlooking the fantastic view of the sea. He was doing tai chi in nothing but a pair of old, torn sweatpants. He paused after a moment when he sensed me watching him.
“I’m going to start the working,” I said. “So leave me the fuck alone.”
“This is already turning into a good day,” he said and turned back to the ocean. “Remember, kneecap.” He settled into his form again, and I flipped him off and walked back inside.
I found an exercise room with a treadmill, some free weights, a rack with big exercise balls, and a wall of mirrors. It was perfect for what I needed. I dropped all the goodies I’d need on the floor, moved the equipment to a far corner of the room, shut the door, and locked it.
I set up a small circle of squat, partially melted silver candles in front of the wall of mirrors. At the center of the circle, I placed a small, ancient, and weathered statue of a cat, made of onyx and gold. I drew a chalk circle on the industrial carpet exactly three feet south from the circle of candles. I drew symbols above the circle for the opening of the Ma’at, and below the circle was the hieroglyphic name of the being I was entreating. I placed the tuft of cat fur, the feathers from the cat toy, and the small rubber mouse in the smaller circle, and then I lit the candles of the larger circle. I turned off the fluorescent overhead lights. The room was dark except for the light from the candles, reflected, jumping, in the mirrored wall.
I sat cross-legged exactly seven feet away from the circle of candles and four feet from the chalk circle. I spent a few moments clearing my mind and regulating my breathing. I aligned my energies and felt the silence and shadow of the room begin to congeal. Time stuttered. Silently, I began the prayers, venerable and precise, filled with formula and geometry that defined the undefinable, named it, gave shape and dimension where none existed, called out to something primordial in the deepest recesses of the endless wheel of the Ma’at.
الحكمة كما ليلة ،
الصمت كما ليلة ،
حارس الأسرار ،
العارف القلوب ،
أم ل أعنف موجة من قلوب ،
اللحاء ، كين للقطط ،
ساق معي الآن ،
مطاردة معي الآن ،
يؤدي بي إلى بلدي فريسة ،
ل مجدك ،
ل مجدك ،
تشغيل يلة معي.
قادني الى المجد.
The prayer was a silent song in my mind; I continued it and hoped one of the most capricious of goddesses would oblige me with her wisdom.
It took a while, I knew it would, but I began to feel her silent approach through the tangled forest of the mind. I opened my eyes and saw in the reflection of the mirrored wall a shadow, deeper than the darkness of the room, pad gracefully toward the circle of candles. Her eyes were blazing amber, alien, and devoid of any emotion or motive I would ever understand. She regarded the ritual and me through the reflection, searching for any reason, any flaw to allow her to pounce and devour me. Luckily for me, she found none.
The Mother of Cats didn’t deign to speak in human tongue; it was too demeaning for her. She snatched the thoughts from my head as easily as flashing out a paw to catch a mouse. She sifted my thoughts like streams of flowing sand and considered my request and my offerings. After a moment, the shadow with eyes of amber fire shifted, seeming to silently spill over to my side of the mirror. It devoured everything in the small chalk circle, and then, as it retreated to the other side of the mirror, it snuffed the ring of candles out. The room fell to darkness. I felt the goddess’s presence striding away, tail swishing. I heard two squeaks of the rubber mouse. This window to the Ma’at closed and she was gone.
I stood, switched on the harsh overhead lights, and blinked. The chalk circle was empty save for a tiny silver bell, like you might find on a cat’s collar. I picked it up and began to hear a tiny jingle in my mind. As I walked toward the door to the room, the frequency of the jingle increased. She had accepted my offerings and given me what I had asked for.
I grabbed a shower, changed into black, button-down jeans and boots. I walked past Vigil’s room and heard his shower going as well. No sense in interrupting. I told one of the house servants downstairs to tell him where I was going before I left. I had a spare kneecap.
I decided to take the bright blue Lamborghini Aventador today. It was a convertible, of course. Halfway down the mountain toward the city, the little bell’s silvery tinkle in my head was getting
