Now that I’d found out I was a Crescent Witch and my duty was to this place, things seemed to have fallen into place. Well, after I got over my shock at the circumstances. Now I just had to figure out how I was going to actually be a witch. There wasn’t a manual for this stuff, but at least I’d found the spell book, which the Internet—the trusty Internet full of opinions and fake news—called a grimoire.
This particular book was the work of Crescents over hundreds of years—well, at least the bits they’d decided to write down—and it was the only remaining link I had to them. The pages were full of spells and invocations, instructions on how to create talismans, and even rituals to summon and invoke spirits and wild energies. The latter frightened the bejesus out of me, but I didn’t mind the idea of creating a talisman for protection. With all the magic-starved creatures crawling around the wilds of Ireland, it seemed like a fantastic idea.
Taking out the little clear quartz necklace I’d bought from Irish Moon, I set it in my palm and studied the flaws in the stone, from the six sides of its natural growth in the earth, right down to its point. The flat end was dipped in silver and had a little ring set into the metal, and a silver chain had been threaded through the loop, which was long enough for me to put over my head without undoing the clasp. When worn, it settled between my breasts and was easily hidden underneath my clothes.
Apparently, quartz crystals were used for protection and capturing and changing bad energies. The intent of the stone matched the talisman I wanted to create, so all I needed to do was join the two together…or so said the spell book. This pendant was exactly what I needed for my experiment.
It was time to find my magic.
Setting the book onto the grass, I pressed it flat, anchoring the pages open with a rock. Reading over the incantation again, I held the quartz point in my palm and closed my fist around it. The chain was cool against my skin, but the crystal began to warm the longer I clutched it.
“I imbue this crystal with the power of protection. May it shield me in times of darkness. May it serve as the armor of the Crescent Witches.” I took another breath and glanced around, but I was alone. “I imbue this crystal with the power of protection. May it shield me in times of darkness. May it serve as the armor of the Crescent Witches.” Then, I spoke the words a third time to seal the spell, focusing my intent and searching for my magic.
I imagined a ball of golden light in my belly and willed it to grow, then I imagined it flowing into the little crystal. After a moment, I began to feel warm like I’d been sitting in the sun too long, and I wiped the back of my hand across my forehead, wishing I’d brought a bottle of water with me.
Lying back in the grass, I stared at the sky, clutching the crystal against my chest. Closing my eyes, the ball of golden light flared and then began to fade.
“Skye.”
I moaned, swatting away a hand that was shaking my shoulder. “Five more minutes, Dad.”
“Skye. It’s Boone. Wake up.”
My eyes sprang open, and I saw Boone above me, his curly hair haloed by a brilliant blue sky.
“Boone?” I sat up with a start, almost head butting him.
“What are you doin’?” he demanded, throwing my equilibrium off-center.
“I was… I wanted to make a talisman,” I muttered, feeling around the grass for the necklace. “For protection.”
“You have to be careful,” he said, scowling as I picked up the little crystal. “There are many—”
“Many things out there looking to suck me dry. I know,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Skye, you don’t get it. This was reckless.” He took the book from where it was sitting open on the grass and snapped it shut. “It’s not a game.”
“I know it’s not!” I exclaimed.
“I was half a mile away, and I felt the pull of your magic,” he said angrily. “I had to run all the way here. I thought somethin’ had happened…”
“You have your clothes on,” I said, my head still feeling like it was stuffed with cotton wool.
“I’m not a nudist, you know. I came here without changin’.”
“Huh?” I rubbed the inner corners of my eyes, trying not to smear my mascara.
“Magic takes a toll,” he said, sitting beside me. “You sent out a callin’ card and then fell asleep because the spell was too much, too soon.”
I gasped, not realizing I’d zapped my own energy to the point I’d conked out on the lawn. What if a busload of tourists had come along and started snapping Kodak moments? How embarrassing.
“You need to be careful with this.” He wiggled the book under my nose. “Especially away from the hawthorn.”
“The craglorn…” I said, my head dropping into my hands. “I just sent out a flare, didn’t I?”
“Don’t forget Carman,” he reminded me. “There are more things than the craglorn to worry about. There’s a bigger battle goin’ on than either of us understands. We’ve been safe here with the hawthorn in the forest, but there will come a day when we’re forced out from under its branches.”
“I’m not sure I want to remember her at all,” I complained. The mysterious witch who was supposed to be a thousand years old was searching for people like Boone
