Page 18 of Haunted Eclipse

“Whatever you are, it’s time to leave,” I said. I pointed the dagger at it.

“Creature unknown, invader of space,

I banish you forthwith from this place.

Be banned, be blocked, be banished, be gone,

From dawn till dusk, from dusk till dawn!”

I threw the Banishing Powder on it and carved a pentacle through the air, then focused all my energy on the mist.

The “snake” let out a loud shriek as the powder hit it, then began to lose its form, returning to mist in a roiling cloud. A bright flash overhead formed on the ceiling as the column of mist began to stream out of the kitchen, and then…it was gone and the portal on the ceiling vanished.

“Fucking hell,” I said. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Crystal said, returning to the kitchen. “I thought your aunt warded her house.”

“She does. And she’s a powerful witch. For whatever that thing was to gain access… Either something managed to punch a hole through the wards, or it was stronger than she was. I have no idea what it was. It felt like a spirit, but I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” I shivered. “Come on, help me build a patch in the wards. I don’t want to chance it breaking through again. Then, I suppose we’d better check all of her wards.”

“Let me look at it,” Crystal said. “I’m good with protection magic. I use it in my cooking a lot.” She pulled a chair beneath where the portal had opened up and stepped up on it. She put her hands on the ceiling and closed her eyes. After a moment, she caught her breath and her eyes flew open.

“Crap, the wards are there, all right, but whatever that was literally punched a hole through them. It’s strong, that I can tell you, because Astra’s wards are strong enough to keep out almost anything,” Crystal said.

“What do we need to fix it?” I asked.

“I’ll need a bottle of War Oil, a small paint brush, and your help. We need to weave the strands of the wards back together and I think if we both work on it, the result will be stronger.”

Crystal ran her hands over the area where the portal was and I could suddenly see the strands of energy. She had a gift for exposing magic to others, though neither of us knew whereit had come from. By the Aseer’s evaluation, she was mostly a kitchen witch, and kitchen witches were usually oriented toward creating magic through food, scent, and drink.

“I’ll be back.” I headed toward my aunt’s ritual room. As I opened the door, it was like being hit with a ton of bricks—the energy was so strong.

I poked through the bottles on the shelves and found her War Oil. Not sure where to find a paint brush, I grabbed one of my clean makeup brushes, and then headed back to the kitchen. Crystal had dragged a tall console table below the area where the wards were broken, then placed two dining room chairs atop it.

“We sit up there?” I asked, staring at the set up with trepidation.

“Yeah. It’s easier than trying to stand on a chair.” She clambered up without a problem, then reached down to give me a hand. I dragged over the stepstool, stood on that, and then scrambled up beside her.

Once atop the table, I could sense the broken wards much easier. If you pictured a grid, formed of triangular pieces to create a dome—like a geodesic dome—over the house, and then imagined that one of those triangles had been broken, it was easier to envision.

Immediately, I understood what she wanted to do. We’d weave the ends back together, then seal it with the War Oil. I took my seat and she took hers. We’d played with energy together more times than I could remember. This wouldn’t be any different, except that our focus was on re-weaving strands of energy together, rather than creating new ones.

“All right, I see what we have to do,” I said. I set the War oil on the table, near my feet, along with the paint brush.

Crystal held out her hands, then took hold of the broken strands of energy on her side. I reached up and cautiouslygrasped the strands on my side of the hole. The magical threads tingled in my hands, spreading through my body. I closed my eyes and examined the pattern that my aunt had used.

“Can you see how she originally wove them?” I asked.

“Yes, I do. Crossing knots, in a web-like pattern. Ready?”

“Let’s go.” I began to braid the strands, trying to match my aunt’s pattern, weaving them over and under one another, tying off knots here and there, re-energizing the broken ends. Crystal was doing the same on her side, and as we worked in unison, we finally met in the middle. I touched my strands to hers and they took, merging and blending, forming the last of the patch. Then, as she kept hold of the patch, I retrieved the War oil and opened it. I dipped the paint brush in, and then began to coat the strands with the magical oil, infusing it into the patch to seal it and strengthen it. Another moment and we were done.

I reached for her hands and she placed them in mine.

“Magic dark, magic bright, magic of the night and stars,

Weave a net, weave a light, weave a web of strength and war,

Those unwelcome find no place, those unwelcome leave this space,

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