Page 12 of Spelling Disaster

His eyes roll back in his head. The spell bursts to life in a large glowing ball in front of my face until it stretches into the familiar shape of a five-pointed star. Each point is supposed to stand for the elements of earth, air, fire, water, and spirit. A circle of protection to amplify the magic of the user.

The exact spell that’s going to take away my magic before I’m ready to give it up. Birthday or no birthday.

He sketches a circle around the pentagram in the air until the entire design sparks. Several other coven members hold candles in front of them with the wicks lit and flickering.

“Stop! Please, stop it!”

I’m crying.

It’s no use.

“Hold her steady,” Eli calls out.

Two of the coven members step on either side of me and Lark shifts to my rear, all three of them taking my arms to keep me still. They force me down to my knees while the magic pulses overhead.

Magic grows around us, starting to work, and the space inside me where it’s always dwelled feels empty.

Something shifts behind the High Priest and through the magic haze, through the rolling fog, I see it.Him. The Horned God in his mask and loincloth stands inside the shade of the trees, smiling at me.

ChapterFour

Ascream rips from my throat and the ground underneath the pentagram shakes and buckles. The candle flames blaze higher. Tearing my gaze away from the hazy outline of the Horned God is impossible and as I watch, his smile widens.

There’s a flash of white teeth in the dappled sunlight and that one expression chills me straight to the marrow of my bones.

All for you.

I swear it’s his voice in my head instead of my own, and any sort of joy I’d felt in the vision, dancing around the bonfire, disappears under a swell of dread.

Magic thickens until I’m surprised no one is choking, their chants constant and low level compared to the throbbing heartbeat. We’re living in an Edgar Allen Poe poem and I’m the only one who sees the truth.

“What do you want with me?” I stop screaming to ask the question, my throat raw.

The haze thickens until even the outline of the Horned God is hard to make out. He bows his head and the edges of his horns scrape the tree trunks.

Suddenly a boom rocks the ceremony and my magic reacts, erupting out of me and reaching for the Horned God. The witches holding my arms lose their grip, their balance, and freed, I surge to my feet. Fog winds through the trees, no longer stopped by our sacred circle.

No, not fog.Smokeand ash.

A second boom follows the first and this time I know exactly where it’s coming from. What the sound really means. Turning, the burning edges of the ancient library are barely visible.

“Mom.” Her name escapes before I realize what I’ve said and, as if conjured, she steps through the crowd seething and red-faced.

All eyes are on me and every single one of them are accusatory.

“Yasmine, what happened?” she barks out.

She grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me hard enough for my brain to crack.

“I didn’t…I don’t know!”

“This isn’t the way things are supposed to go. You were fighting the High Priest. That’s why the spell didn’t work!” Her hands lift to her sides, put out, pissed off. “Not only were you fighting, you let your magic run away from you. Look what you did to the library!”

It seems we all know better than to try to extinguish the flames. The roar, the heat, we feel and hear it from the clearing. It’s too late; whatever backlash happened, the library will be gone in a matter of minutes.

Tears burn the corners of my eyes, racing down my cheeks in a bid for freedom. “I don’t understand. It wasn’t me. Mom, you have to believe me.”

Jaw clenched, her expression promising retribution, Mom asks, “What don’t you understand? You were supposed to let the ceremony take place and you fought it every step of the way. Your refusal led to your magic going haywire and now everything we love is destroyed.”

---