Wicked Circle

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

I studied the necklace dangling from Liyliy’s fist. It was a reasonable guess that since she wanted it gone, it represented either some danger to her, prohibited her from something, or had some power over her. Testing my theories, I reached my bound hands up to accept the necklace.

She lurched away, then tromped angrily around me, saying, “You will not touch it!”

It has some power over her.

Liyliy was kicking granules of salt all over me. I rolled to my back, blinked repeatedly and shielded my face to try and keep it out of my eyes. “How am I supposed to destroy it without touching it?” I demanded.

“Destroy? I did not say destroy!” She kicked me in the shoulder and I rolled, screaming in pain. Staring down at me, she growled, “I said unmake.”

Panting, I laid my head on the mound and concentrated on getting this salt-flavored air in and out of my lungs. Correction, that thing must provide the bearer some control over her. Thinking back, I recalled that when I’d accepted the scroll from the advisor Mero, I had glimpsed something around his neck; I’d wondered then if he’d been wearing a magical amulet or pendant.

Aha.

So she needed the Lustrata to unmake the necklace.

“I trust you know the difference.”

“I do,” I said. Simply destroying a magical item could either break whatever spell it housed or seal it, depending on the item. The stake I’d burned in my hearth—just over six weeks ago!—had been made of wood and blood and mud. The spell-work attached had not been able to hold onto ash. As the wood had been consumed, the magic had evaporated, released in fiery transmutation.

Magic in metal was not so easy. Metal didn’t transmute when superheated; it could become molten, but it was still metal and the spell wouldn’t release. Unmaking a necklace of what appeared to be gold would be no small feat.

Or maybe the spell wasn’t attached to the metal.

The pouch would burn, but I was betting the important stuff was within. If it had stones, crushing them would seal the magic in place. A major counter-spell would then be required to undo the magic—with no guarantee of success, let alone permanence. “I have to know what I’m dealing with. Are there stones inside the pouch?”

Liyliy retreated to a safe distance and opened the pouch. Her wings sprouted and hoisted her toward the open top. As she hovered, the blustering air flung salt every which way, and I had to shield my eyes again. When the rush of air diminished, she was standing, wingless, before me. “There are three. Amber.”

Those stones would burn and transmute.

Liyliy, apparently, understood all this. If I tried and “accidentally” cracked the amber, she would surely kill me.

My only experience with unmaking anything was the in signum amoris. That had been a spoken spell sealed in actions and energy—it had existed like worn jewelry, attached to me, but not a part of me. Burning a fence in my meditation world had removed it in much the manner of losing jewelry down the drain. That was substantially different from unmaking physical matter in this world. I’d also had Hecate’s help.

Why would Creepy want me to know that I can do this?

He knows Menessos and Johnny can’t help me.

I scratched my head as if I was still thinking. I had to either do this impossible thing, or get it away from her.

I couldn’t fight her physically; my shoulder injury was too fresh for me to expect to make much of a show as an opponent. But. Even without access to the ley line, I had power within me. Although most of my energy was depleted, she had brought me food . . . with more I could reenergize myself. Maybe enough to make one lucky strike, claim the necklace, and flip the balance of power here.

I could hope.

Donning an expression of an idea that had just struck, I sat up and clawed through the salt for the candy bar she’d dropped. “I need more food.” I opened it and devoured a bite. “What you want me to do requires a lot of energy, and if you won’t let me tap the ley line, I need some other way to fuel it. Bring me water, energy drinks and any power stones you trust me to have.”

She warily assessed me as she thought it through. Providing me energy that I might try to use against her was a risk she had to take. She couldn’t expect me to succeed without it.

Finally she said, “Then you go back into the dark.”

After the overhead door shut and darkness surrounded me again, I waited long enough for Liyliy to leave. Then I reopened the Coca-Cola and splashed a fizzy circle around me.

Mother, seal my circle and give me a sacred space.

I need to think clearly to solve the troubles I face.

I could usually slip into an alpha state like flicking a switch . . . but not today. I tried again.

Grounding and centering myself didn’t work. Something was wrong. It wasn’t me, either, all injuries aside. This salt-and-iron environment was interfering. Since meditation had nothing to do with outward magic, my contact with this stuff had to be to blame. Venturing a guess, I’d have bet that Liyliy had done something to this salt and that was keeping me from tapping the ley.

Salt as mere salt couldn’t stop me. Iron couldn’t either, but apparently both in the high amounts found here, and mixed with whatever empowerment Liyliy had worked, was enough.

She’d even gone so far as to stuff my mouth with salt.

Thinking about that made me thirsty again; I gulped another drink of the Coke and visualized the caffeinated beverage burning the salt out of me. That gave me an idea.

Pushing my aura to include what was directly touching me—I didn’t have enough energy to spare for cleansing the tons of it that was here—I said,

Mother, cleanse this salt and give me a sacred space.

I need to think clearly to solve the troubles I face.

That did it. In seconds, I sat on the shore with a lake lapping quietly before me, a willow tree beside me and crickets singing in the darkness. My bonds and wounds did not go with me, though the torn and ragged dress did. I stood, searching all around.

A shadow crossed the inland darkness, a shadow with ears pricked.

For a single heartbeat, it seemed like a dark wolf racing toward me, attacking—but I knew this was not true. The shadow was too small to be Johnny in wolf form. It was Amenemhab, my jackal totem animal, who was approaching.

He padded close and sat. The crescent moon above us silvered his back and darkened his muzzle, but his tail wagged happily—a good sign.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” he replied. “How’s your mother?”

The last time I’d chatted with him, it had been about her. I filled him in on the events since then.

“So she does care and she has learned,” he said.

“Yeah. I guess.” I hadn’t believed this was possible when he’d suggested it. “She’s trying to guilt me into reciprocating, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“It isn’t?”

“No.” I explained that Liyliy was holding me hostage, and that she expected me to unmake a magical necklace without allowing me to touch the necklace or to tap the ley line for power.

“Hmmm . . .” he said.

I remembered that Creepy’s visit might be important too, but before I could speak, Amenemhab said, “And yet the two are not so dissimilar.”

“Huh?”

“As Liyliy is keeping you from the freedom you want, you are similarly holding your mother hostage from your love, which she wants.”

I frowned at him, but he was undeterred.

“Liyliy wants you to unmake the necklace and will restrict your freedom until you do as she wants. You want your mother to change, and you restrict her access to your heart until she does as you want. Are you following me so far?”

“Unhappily, yes.”

“Liyliy refuses to give you access to the item of power, but this complication makes winning your freedom more difficult for you, and because Liyliy does not trust you, this undermines the success of her goal. Care to outline how this is reflected with your mother?”

I crossed my arms, not that a physical show of being “blocked off” would have any effect on a totem animal. “I refuse to let her into my heart, but my standoffishness makes her more stubborn, and because I don’t trust her, all this undermines my chance of eliciting a change in her behavior.”

“See? You do understand.” He flashed the jackal version of a grin. “As Liyliy denies you access to the ley line, she lowers her chances for a satisfying outcome. As you deny your mother your love, you do the same, and it is a shame, for that is the one thing that can change her.”

“Okay, I get it. I see it. Life is wildly synchronous. But I can’t do anything about my mother if I don’t get away from Liyliy. So help me out here. How do I unmake this thing?”

“Why would you?” Amenemhab stood and paced back and forth before me. It was unnerving, since that was exactly what Liyliy had done. Just as I was about to say something about it, his tail dropped down. “Unmaking a spell of this magnitude, which was never part of you in either the making or the receiving, is interference with karmic repercussions. If you do this, you will bear an iron chain. It will have to be abolished if ever you are to reach your destiny, and nullifying it in this lifetime would be very difficult indeed.” He bowed his head.

“Then I have to get the necklace away from her, which will be next to impossible.”

“Is she so fierce?”

“She’s very capable and there, my right arm is injured.”

His snout lifted. “You’ve been tested. Those tests were not given you simply to strengthen you. In passing them you earned power and were afforded privileges and opportunities . . . such as unmaking that which was unjustly wrought upon you. But to balance the success of an opportunity, there comes a challenge.”

My shoulders squared. “So what do I do?”

He cocked his head. “Have you evaluated where you are in your cycle?”

“You want to talk about my period?”

“No. Your life cycle,” Amenemhab laughed. “Birth. Life. Death.”

I scratched my head. “I’m pretty sure I’m well past the birth part and into the life part, and hopefully none too close to the death part.”

“Each facet of life can also be gauged upon its life cycle. Like a love affair. Some are born quickly, live briefly and die in flames.”

Johnny. My stare dared the totem animal to make that connection.

“It is the way of existence—and your existence as the Lustrata is no different. What is birth?”

“Birth is creation, beginning, initiation.”

“And life?”

“Life is development, growth, progress.”

“It is time to evolve, Persephone. Time to take what you know and all you have earned and unite it.” He held his head high. “Embracing the goddess whose torches light your path and whose grace protects you is easy. Embracing the goddess who would set you aflame, who would drown you and cast your body soaring wingless into the sky . . . is not easy, and yet you embrace Her still. Some would let fear immobilize them, yet you just accept what She asks of you and do it. That sets you apart, Persephone.”

I hadn’t thought to “blame” Hecate for the close calls during my tests. Though I hadn’t grasped it during the first test—I’d been naïve, but I’d come to understand that danger was to be expected when a deity assessed a mortal.

“Your devotion and loyalty shine like bright beacons that declare you ready for the more treacherous journey along the deeper path.”

I cast my eyes toward the island that resembled a spearhead jammed into the middle of the lake. I’d seen the giant steps to Tartarus inside there. I didn’t want to go back.

“I cannot tell you the answer,” he said softly, “for these things of which I speak are uniquely yours, as will be the manner in which you combine them.”

“If I have so much, why isn’t the course of action obvious to me?”

“Being the Lustrata is no simple honor. It will only get harder.”

Delightful.

“You have a decision to make, Lustrata: Cor aut mors. I leave you to it.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “My time with you is growing short, Persephone; I feel another totem will soon replace me.”

That made me sad.

“Be at peace, Persephone. When things change here, it is evidence of evolution.” Amenemhab trotted away.

I awakened inside the cargo hold. Not wanting Liyliy to find the wet circle of salt and become suspicious, I wiggled around and hoped it disguised my actions.

“Cor aut mors,” Amenemhab had said. It was Latin for “heart or death.” It meant a choice between the morals and loyalty of the heart, or the insignificance and disgrace of death.

Of course I would choose “heart.”

C’mon, Snickers bar, and kick in. I have a karmic suicide to avoid.