“Yes, I do.”
“Making the components of your magic in situ makes them naturally more potent. Site-specific tools honor place over the application of more generic materials.”
My fingers itched to take notes. Maritza continued. “Back to your question. Salt is not used for every magic circle. An excess of salt in the soil acts as a barrier to the cell walls of roots, causing them to eventually die from lack of hydration. Which is fine if that is your intent. Some rituals require a death.
“However, circles made from trees and plants that have a connection to where you are casting your magic make superior circles for the work you will do.” She readjusted her glasses, adding, “Reduce, reuse, recycle. I believe it was an earth witch who first coined that phrase in the 1800s.”
I almost giggled. Tanner saved me by offering to make Maritza a lemonade as he relieved me of the bag. I handed it over gratefully and added I would take a drink, too.
Maritza homed in on me the moment Tanner left. From our first encounter at Cliff and Abi’s orchard, the witch and necromancer had struck me as one of those Magicals who had one foot in the present and the other in a realm only she could see. “Allow me to explain the process, Calliope. First, we choose a place. We’ll need a flat, circular area approximately—” she scanned me up and down “—eight to ten feet across.”
She then assessed my property, tapping a deep blue nail against her chin and hmming to herself. “You said there were maps in your mother’s books?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Let us have a look. There may already be a sacred circle here.”
“I think you’re right,” I said. I had shoveled matted grass off a handful of rocks during a burst of premenstrual energy. Their shape and spacing suggested their placement was deliberate. I reached into the chest pocket of my overalls for the map I had cobbled together out of pages I’d copied from one of my mother’s Good Housesweeping books and showed it to Maritza. When I squinted, I could imagine where the rest of the rocks were located by following the hand-drawn design. “There are at least two stone pathways here, both large circles with smaller paths inside.”
Maritza lifted the map and studied it against the array of uncovered rocks and clumps of dried grasses and moss. “Calliope, your land was once a place where witches gathered. Witches, and others. This map confirms what I sense.” She handed it to me. “You may put this away for now and gather what flowers and herbs you can. Our color palette is somewhat limited this time of year, but there should be enough in your garden and among the wildflowers to start with.”
The witch pointed to a fairly flat, clear area between where we were standing, and the bunkhouse snugged near the woods. “I will create the circle, and you will scatter everything you gather inside its circumference.”
Witches, and others. What were my mother and her sister involved with?
I wanted to plant myself facedown on the ground, tap into the underlying magical, mycelial network, and tug and tug until I’d pulled distant memories to the surface.
Instead, I collected my gardening shears and an old canvas bag from the shed and plotted the route of my harvest.
Chapter 7
Starting at the north, I walked along the cool side of the house and clipped a hank of untrimmed grass and a couple branches of salal, heavy with deep purple berries. I popped one in my mouth and pictured Bear happily rummaging in the bush for a late-summer treat. Rounding into the sunlight, I snipped crabapple leaves and a selection of herbs from my garden, including late-flowering rosemary and stems of dried coriander and dill seed. In the far corner, opposite the raspberry canes, the dahlias offered up more of their generously petaled blooms.
I continued around the periphery of the property, adding anything still green or flowering, including fern fronds with curling brown edges and little purple asters. When I finished, I went to where Tanner and Maritza were standing and gulped down the offered glass of lemonade.
“Let me wash first,” I said, handing the empty glass to Tanner. I used the cold-water-only outdoor faucet to scrub my hands and rinse my face and neck. The bottom of my T-shirt served in lieu of a towel.
Back at the circle, Maritza distributed the plant matter throughout. She pointed to her heavy bag and motioned I should reach inside. Simple cotton muslin brushed against my dampened fingertips. When I went to lift the garment from the bag, its weight pulled me off balance and as I stood, I saw why.
“Be careful not to cut yourself, Calliope. Perhaps now would be a good time for Tanner to assist?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Take this side,” I said, indicating with my elbow. Both my hands were hooked under the wide straps of the sleeveless dress. Tanner wiped away sweat and bits of grass before offering me his hand and wrist. “Give me your other arm, too.”
The muscles and tendons on his forearms strained as he adjusted to accept the full weight of the garment. I crouched and peered closer at the hundreds, maybe thousands of needles weighting the hem in tightly stacked rows. Curious, I tapped the tip of one with my finger. When the needle broke the skin at the barest touch, I quickly shoved my finger in my mouth and hoped Maritza didn’t see the blood. “How am I supposed to get into this?” I asked. “The needles are—”
“Intimidating? I know. And deadly if provoked. I attached every single one of them and each tried to draw first blood.” Pride coated Maritza’s voice. “My brother is a master at his work.”
“Malvyn made the needles?” The sorcerer presented himself as a doting father and husband. I knew him best as the Enforcer. Between his admission that he crafted flechettes for Magicals who preferred to
