Page 29 of Truly Madly Magically

Frost is looking over everything with his usual intensity. “The familiars will form a second ring of protection.”

I remind myself that in this little space we’ve created, the Joywood can’t reach us. No one can see us or hear us.

I hope.

I stand in the center as I usually do for Summonings. My friends arrange themselves around me. Rebekah faces me. Zander is at my back. The other four form a diamond around us.

Protection.

We are a coven now, so while there is always an order to these things, they have more meaning now. We follow the ancient ways that have governed covens across the centuries. I hold opal and calcite in my hands. The family tree that links Zachariah Rivers to Elizabeth Good is displayed on a little easel in the circle with the daguerreotypes Georgie unearthed of them.

A Summoning is a connection to the past, so we start with the future.

Rebekah lights her candle first, saying the words that are only hers. She is followed by the Healer, the Guardian, and the Warrior. Distinctions made up of the present.

Only then come the Praeceptor, the Historian, and then me.

The center of it all tonight, if there’s to be a Summoning.

With the curtain drawn back to let in the other side, the candles lit and our protective animals around us, I begin.

I close my eyes and rest the backs of my hands on my knees. I tilt my head back, opening up to the moon above and the spirit world around me. I know that when I truly connect, my friends won’t understand what I say.

I can’t explain it. It’s just magic.

I open up to it. “Mother moon. Sister Sky. Open me.”

I feel it. The way that Summoner inside of me unfurls itself. It’s like my chest being opened, but it doesn’t hurt. And I know when I’m no longer closed up tight. When I am ready to receive.

Vulnerable, something whispers. I ignore it. I remember my mother’s words. A pregnant witch isn’t fragile... She is powerful. Fearsome. Not fearful.

I hold on to that. “By will divine, by the stars above, spirits, I ask for your welcome.”

The wind picks up around me, and I can feel the light of the moon, the stars, the way they wash over me, rush into me. Welcome me.

I can feel the magic spiral inside of me, then flow out. Just like it’s supposed to, thank Hecate.

I hold on to it and reach—

Into the past, into the ether, into the spirit world.

Now for the complicated part. “We call on you, blood of my blood, Elizabeth Good,” I call out so my coven can hear, so they can push their magic into the night.

Then, because Zander is the Rivers descendant, he says the next part. “We call on you, blood of my blood, Zachariah Rivers.”

It’s working. I can feel them take shape even before they’re visible, and I’m not even struggling.

I lean into the magic in me and then there they are, standing before me. Two people in period dress, a man and a woman. They look alive and animated now instead of stern, remote daguerreotypes.

I try to stick to the script instead of letting myself get too awed by how easy this all was. Or terrified that it’s too easy and there’s another shoe about to drop.

On me, if history is any guide.

I stick to the words that Georgie and Frost made me learn, so I wouldn’t have to cast around into potential dangers now. I can feel both of them looking at me. I can feel them both in the magic we make, reminding me. Encouraging me. Guiding me.

“Elizabeth Good. Zachariah Rivers.” I say both their names and incline my head in greeting. “We thank you for answering this call tonight. We are your descendants, and we need your help.”

Rebekah conjures up the explanation I put together of what’s happened, of what we need. Why it’s up to them. We made it a movie that plays in the night air, clearly fascinating our two ancestors. They peer at it, blinking now and then.

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