There was a reason, though, that Wicca was equated with witchcraft. Many of the symbols and traditions of Wiccan spell casting and “white” magic had their basis in lore and traditions of the powered. Powered were simply better able to access and direct energy so that spells actually worked well on the physical plane. And powered Casters were by far the best at this type of working.
Bree sat on a pillow on the floor next to Bruce as Sophie called in the four directions and walked a circle with sword, wand, water, and crystal. Bree felt the energy building, creating a pleasant buzz as the circle was completed and the warding aspects activated.
Sophie held the amulet up by its cord and pointed to the carvings on the front of the amulet. “See here, this one, the oval shape with the zig zag across it, is a symbol for shield. This triangle is clearly a fire sign, which is for protection, but it’s over written with this other symbol, one I’m not sure of. It could be meant to represent a holly leaf. That’s considered a fire plant, though you seldom see it used these days as a Casting symbol. It's pretty old school. This spiral is drawn widdershins, that’s counter clockwise to you, Bree, and I believe that’s the unraveling of negative energy. An anti-dark magic symbol used in concert with these others. So far, it all jibes as a protective amulet.”
Sophie pointed to the last symbol on the front, a series of small humps and curlicues. “This one I can’t make heads or tails of at all. Bruce?” She held the amulet up by its cord, as close to Bruce as she could get and still stay inside the circle. He wasn’t a Caster, but he was something of a historian, and he knew a lot of lore.
Bruce leaned forward and looked at it a moment, then shook his head. “It looks like some overwritten symbols, maybe two or three of them. I can’t quite make it out. It’s quite a jumble.”
Sophie turned the amulet over, and put her finger on the symbol on the back. “This one’s obvious, a hawk, borne on air. This is for communication. I think it sends the call for help across the air. It’s possible the hawk is a symbol for Daniel, specifically. There’s more, of course, on the energy level. Just give me a minute, and I’ll tell you what I get.”
Bree waited while Sophie communed with the amulet. She tended to be thorough and detail oriented by nature, so this took some time. There was a subtle sense of energy moving, but there were no lights, no heat, no sounds that would indicate a serious energy discharge. Finally, Sophie opened her eyes.
“This is a very good protection amulet, Bree. Really multi-layered spell work. It must have taken two full days of working, maybe more, to make this thing. In fact, I’ve never seen anything this powerful. But it’s benign, definitely not dark in any way. And here’s a funny thing,” she said, pointing again to the unknown symbol on the front. “The meaning of this was more clear on the energy level, where I could get a sense of the intention of the maker. I think this is a combination of the signs for Leo and Scorpio, your sun and rising signs.” She looked at Bree with an expression part surprise, part arch humor. “This is for you. He made this specifically for you.”
Jim Scanlon was driving south on Highway 99 toward downtown, on his way home, when he felt a piece of his mind dissolve. It was a bizarre and nauseating sensation. He'd been humming along to Satisfaction by the Stones on the radio, feeling relaxed and content when it happened.
He felt ill, but there was nowhere to pull over the car. He tried breathing shallowly to control the nausea, and then the second weird thing happened. He realized he was angry. Stunningly, blindingly angry. His mellow mood was snuffed out, and he gripped the steering wheel hard enough to hurt his hands. He started remembering the job that had gone south last night, and what it had meant.
A part of him had been aware of what happened all day today. He would have flashes of memory, of the unexpected level of resistance in the house wards, of Justice growling like a dog in frustration, snarling, and saying, “The bitch cut me off!” Then he remembered them all turning and walking away, giving up at the same time. He hadn't cared, and no one had said another thing. They just got in their cars and drove away, and he hadn’t heard a damned thing from any of them since. That fucking Keeper in there must have seriously messed with them. Some kind of binding spell that made them all want to go away, right when they were winning. He’d spent almost two weeks getting the right people together, and everything had been going his way that night, he’d been about to get two jobs done at the same time, and wouldn’t Carson have been impressed! He’d have his best chance so far to move up in the clan.
His Dad was high up in the Keltoi, considered likely next in line for chief, but Carson had never seemed influenced by that, even though family connections in the Keltoi were supposed to be a big deal. All he would send Scanlon’s way were shit smuggling jobs. Scanlon had brains, he’d graduated from college with a business degree. And he had good ideas, but they’d put him in some box that said, “Good at hiding spells, give him the product running jobs.” He needed something high profile, something he’d done on his own to show a little initiative. And there was what he would get out of it, for himself. How could he have just walked away?
It had to have been that Keeper. He was supposed to be some hot shot, from one of those old powered families, thought they were so much better than Keltoi when Keltoi had been around just as long. It couldn’t have been that pansy Warder, and that powered chick may have helped him, but he’d felt only one weak defensive spell from her, so she was clearly not much of a factor.
He turned off on his exit and started threading his way through streets of high rise apartment buildings in his Belltown neighborhood. The nausea was fading now, but a nagging feeling of anxiety was blossoming under the rage. To think that someone could take control of him like that, get in his head, make him forget everything that was important to him, everything he'd worked for. It was like being raped, a real mind-fuck. He kind of knew now why powered thought binding was such dark magic. He’d always thought people made too big a deal of it. But having it happen to you just made your skin crawl.
But there was no doubt he had to try again. He’d just have to be more careful, be more prepared. That demon ridden idiot Justice would help him again, he knew. Possessed were usually up for anything that might involve violence. He was less sure of the others, they might not think it was worth the trouble.
As he pulled into the garage under his condo building and parked, he thought about what it might be like to bind others. Sure as hell would come in handy with that Keeper. Casters like him usually had a whole library of spell lore. Real academic types. That was probably how he’d done it, some spell, because Keepers weren’t allowed to be Binders. The Ecclesias would strip you of powers faster than you could spit if you had one of the forbidden talents, and that'd most likely kill someone strong enough to go for Keeper. Just another example of how screwed up a lot of powered were with their whole light magic, dark magic distinctions. The truth was it was all power, and either you had the balls to use what you had or you didn’t. Well, he’d just have to see about tracking that Keeper down to wherever he kept his books, see if he could find that binding spell. Most Casters kept a personal book of those spells they used most or had discovered on their own, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find. He could keep that binding spell for himself.
He’d have to do it when Thorvaldson was gone, though. And he needed to keep working on a plan for how get Thorvaldson for Carson. Maybe he shouldn’t try to get him and the kid both at the same time. There had to be a way, because this was the best chance he’d come across to get Carson’s attention. Then maybe his Dad would stop making those pointed little comments about what a waste of money it had been to send him to college.
It was a fluke he even knew that Carson wanted Thorvaldson. He’d just happened to overhear him talking to Destry that night when he was earlier than expected reporting in on a job. Taking down a Keeper of Thorvaldson's power would make his reputation, even better than surviving a long possession. And there was no way he wanted to go that route. Just look at Justice. That guy was losing it, fast.
He threw open his car door, got out, and got a little satisfaction out of slamming it shut. Yeah, he'd get Thorvaldson's spell book, then take him down. And there was no fucking way he'd share that binding spell with anyone.
Chapter 5
Bree
sat in her car outside Sophie and Bruce’s, hand on the amulet that now lay around her neck. It was raining quite hard, and the rain pounded on the roof of her car like the tiny fists of angry babies. Why had Daniel Thorvaldson spent two days making her a protection amulet
before
the attack at Kevin’s? Was there something about their experience with the taint that made him do it, something he suspected? Was it just a thank you gift? Or had he expected or hoped to be around her again, and thought there was something dangerous in that for her?
She sighed and gave up trying to figure it out for now. She called Kevin on her cell, and got basically no information from him over the phone. All he would say was that it was okay for her to come over. He did mention, just before hanging up, trying to sound casual, “Javier stopped by. He’ll probably still be here when you get here.”
Oh great, Javier Ortiz. Keeper, Seth’s best friend, and high on the list of people she would rather not see. There had been a very bad scene after Seth’s funeral when Javier made it clear he blamed her for Seth’s death, then another, only slightly less awful one where he stiffly apologized, more, she suspected, because he thought it was the generous and correct thing to do than because he had actually changed his mind. They hadn’t spoken since. It was just her luck he’d be the Keeper sent in to investigate the situation at Kevin’s. She briefly considered not going, but decided that was too cowardly. Maybe if it wasn’t too bad, she could go back to Mass at St. Stephen’s without the dread of running into him.
It was still pouring rain when she arrived at Kevin’s, and she made a run for it from her car to the front stoop. Kevin greeted her at the door, looking rumpled, tired and discouraged. Bree gave him a hug, then hovered with him in the front hall while he gave her a quick update.
“We’ve had three Keepers here since last night,” he told her. “They’ve basically been providing a guard. Javier was here last night as well, in more of an investigative role. I take it he’s good at reading energy traces, and he says he picked up some patterns that match a couple of local Keltoi, more petty vice types by the sound of it, no major players, though a couple had high power readings. And he said…” Kevin paused and grimaced as if he had just tasted something nasty. “He said he wants to investigate Hunter’s adoption, that it wouldn’t be the first time someone powered later went after a powered child they had given up.”
“Oh Kevin,” Bree murmured sympathetically.
“It’s just sick the way some powered only value powered children,” Kevin continued heatedly. “Steve and I would have gladly adopted a child with no powered ancestry, but we got the chance at Hunter first, and of course we fell in love with him.” He leaned back against the hallway wall. “You know Bree, I have to admit I can’t but hope this is about Daniel. I wouldn’t wish any harm on him, but he’s a Keeper, he can defend himself. Hunter is just a child, and you saw how much good my wards did with a concerted attack. How long do you suppose they’re going to post Keepers here as guards. A week? Two weeks?”
A fiery protective surge well up in Bree, the same feeling she used to get when she found someone possessed. She wanted to
do
something about this. “I want to talk to Javier,” she replied, wanting to ride the feeling until it vanished.
“He’s in the kitchen with Daniel, raking him over the coals. Which is not a good thing,” he confided in a near whisper. “Daniel went to a lot of effort to avoid anyone or anything following him here. His old partner Bailey and I are the only ones who even know he’s in Seattle. He really wants to be left alone for awhile.”
Bree’s heart went out to Daniel at that moment, more than it had before. She knew exactly what that felt like, just wanting all the stress to stop, wanting to be left alone. Bree stalked toward the kitchen.
She found Daniel sitting on one of the high stools at the granite topped breakfast bar, body very still, except for one hand restlessly turning a coffee mug in circles. He hadn't shaved that morning. Javier was standing on the other side of the counter. He had excellent posture, which made him look taller than he was. He was immaculately dressed as usual, in sharply creased navy pants, blue button down shirt, and darker blue silk tie. Bree had always wondered how someone so different from Seth had managed to stay friends with him for so long. Seth had been casual to the point of sloppiness, laid back to Javier’s controlling meticulousness, and open hearted to Javier’s cautious pessimism. She had finally concluded it was one of those bonds forged from growing up together more than any sympathy of character or interests. They had certainly shared a whole slew of inside jokes, and Seth had had a way of loosening Javier up. She'd never had that gift with Javier. They'd always been courteous to one another, had wanted to like each other, but had just never really hit it off.
“Javier,” she said, nodding to him as she entered the room. “Daniel,” she added, and surprised herself by putting a hand on Daniel’s shoulder in greeting. He looked up at her with a half smile. She saw his eyes drop, register that she was wearing the amulet, just visible in the opening of her shirt. Then he look quickly and quite intently at Javier, as if trying to draw his attention away from Bree.