Page 40 of The Child of Rue Royale
Emotions bubble up, brimming inside me, but I know, I knowI must stay on course and not let them consume me. The fear of failure, the fear of doing it wrong, and the constant self-judgement I’m battling get pushed to the back of my mind. I remember Mother’s words, how Bastian believed in me, how my grandmother said I was the future of our coven.
I’m doing this because every cell in my body, every pore of my skin, every beat of my heart tells me I’m meant to. It’s not just about selfishly bringing back the love of my life for me and only me anymore. It’s about doing something for the greater good and believing in the signs that have been shown to me.
Stepping into the circle, I sit near the center, my cauldron in hand. The same one I create all my potions in, including the daywalking potion. I look around to ensure the beach is empty, the tide the only background music I need.
I look up to the house, the lights glowing in the night air, Chantal most likely pacing back and forth.Don’t get distracted, Aster, I tell myself and redirect my thoughts.
Sitting at the bottom of the circle, I welcome the cold sand as I cross my legs and place the cauldron before me. Tonight, there can be no tears, no emotion, only intent, only determination. I push every logical thought aside, I let the magic consume me, allow it to take over, and bend to my will.
Winnie’s pages fly open on the resurrection spell’s page, goading me to begin. But I don’t need her guidance. I have it memorized.
Clasping my hands in front of me, I give thanks to the elements, to my ancestors, to the magic thrumming inside my veins. Envisioning a steel rod sliding down my back, strengthening me, casting out doubt, casting out fear. And I sit here until my entire body is vibrating, telling me it’s ready.
I am magic.
This is it. There’s no going back. There are no second chances. With the power of three, the spell begins: blood, ashes, magic.
“Corpus Bastian,” I whisper into the wind, and the bag of Bastian’s ashes flies into my opened palm. Speaking the words in English, I open the velvet sack and pour the ashes into my cauldron. “Body of Bastian.”
“Sanguis Bastian.” The vial of blood reaches my palm in seconds, and I twist the petite lid, pouring the drops of blood over the ashes. “Blood of Bastian.” My heart flutters, a sudden panic overcoming me…but no. I lengthen my back again and cast out any thoughts of doubt. I’m bringing Bastian back tonight.
“Magicae ad Bastian,” I command the tincture and cemetery dirt. “Magic for Bastian,” I whisper while pouring them, one at a time, over the blood and ashes. My wrists ache, begging to start the magic, begging to do their part, to evoke the magic.
Saying a proper goodbye to the items that gave me this opportunity and reminding myself to stay dedicated, I ignite a fire from the hottest flames of my soul and transfer it into the cauldron. It burns bright and high, the air before me glowing orange, and Bastian’s ring warms against my skin.
Crossing my hands over my chest forming a perfect X, I close my eyes.
“Cauldron, bend to my will. Do what I ask of you.” This is it. The final step, the final words to bring him back. So I take the deepest breath because in seconds, he could be standing before me.
The fire crackles, the contents of the cauldron turning a vibrant green as I open my dry mouth to begin the incantation, the resurrection of Bastian.
“Anima ad corpus. Corpus ad terram. Bastian Delacroix, resurgere.”
Tears slip from my closed eyes, but I won’t succumb to them. I take a deeper breath and say the English words, husky and firm. “Soul to body. Body to earth. Bastian Delacroix, rise again.”
I say the words again like they’re familiar to me. As familiar as the words I love you, as familiar as the words hello and goodbye.
The wind picks up, blowing my hair around my face, the tide sounding violent like the waves could feast on my body. My stomach tightens, my back aches, but I keep going.
“Anima ad corpus. Corpus ad terram. Bastian Delcroix, resurgere. Soul to body. Body to earth. Bastian Delacroix, rise again.”
I open my eyes, not knowing what to expect, not knowing if he will be standing, sitting, squatting before me, or when. But the fire only burns brighter and hotter—with no one else within the circle. It doesn’t stop me. I don’t move, and I do what I must—I keep going.
Closing my eyes, I repeat the spell, digging deep and pushing everything inside me up and out until I’m screaming over the cauldron.
I open my eyes to the dark night engulfing me. To nothing.
My heart sinks, but I will sit here as long as this fire is lit, until Bastian is in my arms. Sitting up on my knees, I stare down at the cauldron, its green smoke moving over my face and neck, and I place my hands over it, fingers stretched wide, and then I shout.
“ANIMA AD CORPUS. CORPUS AD TERRAM. BASTIAN DELACROIX, RESURGERE. ANIMA AD CORPUS. CORPUS AD TERRAM. BASTIAN DELACROIX, RESURGERE. SOUL TO BODY. BODY TO EARTH. BASTIAN DELACROIX, RISE AGAIN. SOUL TO BODY. BODY TO EARTH. BASTIAN DELACROIX, RISE AGAIN.”
All sound escapes my ears like I’ve jumped into a pool as a fire from inside the cauldron blasts into the sky, the power of it sending me soaring in the air, a pressure on my lungs so deep I can hardly inhale.
I fly out of the circle, my eyes entranced by the dazzling green fire shooting up from the cauldron. Its smoke bends and stretches across the black sky as my back dives into the sand twenty feet away. Smoke billows across my vision, and I lie on the sand watching something form over me. It’s outline twists and bends until it takes the shape of a face. I reach out to touch it, but it’s only smoke, and it disappears before my fingers can reach it. And just like that, the sky is black, the fire gone, the smoke cleared.
My feet are running before I can comprehend. I slide in the sand, look into the cauldron, but the contents are gone. The fire, out.
“No,” I gasp. My eyes frantic, searching to see if he’s anywhere in view. No body near the immense ocean or hills behind me. No one walking along the sand. No one as far as my eyes can see. There’s nothing here but me and my empty cauldron.
