The Hidden Grimoire by Karla Brandenburg (pride and prejudice read TXT) 📕

She reached into one of the cubbyholes in the bookshelf. “Rosemary, thyme, cinnamon, and olive oil,” she told me. “We’ll anoint the candle and for as long as it burns, we will work in white light.”

Except she took a black candle. I wasn’t sure I understood.

“The white light comes from inside,” she explained, as if she’d read my thoughts—and she likely had, considering my telepathic greeting.

She mixed the ingredients, then ran her fingers first down the candle and then up again.  “Close your eyes and visualize your space being filled with powerful white light.” She closed her eyes and I did as she said. I opened my eyes when I heard her strike a match.

“Let the magical power of light fill this space, for the good of all and harm to none. So let it be.”

My reflex was to say amen, but somehow that didn’t seem appropriate.

“Now,” she said. “Nora tells me this is about the next generation. Tell me about her.”

I explained how young Georgia was, how her gifts were manifesting themselves, the astral projection, the telekinetic temper. “Is it possible she made herself invisible?” I asked.

Hannah tilted her head, looking somewhere beyond the cellar. “I’m inclined to believe she wasn’t invisible, more likely overlooked. At three years old, I doubt invisibility is something she’d be mature enough to comprehend. More likely, she chose to hide from something or someone disagreeable.”

Which made perfect sense. I relayed the “Daddy mad” comments and Sharon’s part of the story.

“I understand your concern for Georgia,” Hannah said, “but surely you have memories of your own to draw on. Every child born to the gifts faces skepticism, at best, until her mentor can safely guide her.”

I explained how my parents had died, and how the aunt and uncle who’d taken me in had kept Nora a secret. And then I told Hannah about my first spell.

“Oh, dear,” Hannah said. “It’s a wonder you didn’t do more damage. Your mother should be credited for putting the fear of God in you. Literally.” She reached for my hand. “I’ll bet you lived all those years afraid of repeating your mistake.”

“I did. Every time my telekinetic temper manifested itself, I tried to convince myself it was a coincidence.”

“And yet you knew better.”

I nodded.

“Then you don’t have experience to draw from. At least not from a young age. A three-year-old is still learning right from wrong. Developmentally, this could be very challenging to her, and to her parents. You say her father refuses to acknowledge?”

“Right.” I squirmed. “I’d considered attempting mind control to ease him into the idea, but I’m reluctant to cast a spell on the best of days. I’ve encountered too many instances of unintended consequences.”

Hannah nodded emphatically. “Quite right. I completely understand. This does present a dilemma. Without you to guide her, your little girl might be tempted to use her gifts irresponsibly, which could result in any number of bad scenarios.” Hannah studied me closely. “How did your parents die?”

“They were in a car accident.”

“And how old were you?”

“Eight.”

“And you cast your first spell when?”

“I was thirteen.” My heart stuttered. “Are you thinking I might have done something to cause the car accident?”

Hannah shook her head. “No, no. I had considered the possibility for half a second, but the time frame doesn’t work. I also get the impression you loved your parents very much. At eight years old, you hadn’t yet come to resent them. Am I right?”

My eyes welled with tears as I nodded again.

“Bad things happen to good people. If you had been responsible, I’m quite sure you’d be aware of it, the way you are about the bicycle and your friend.” She laughed. “I’m amazed your aunt and uncle escaped unscathed, however.”

I bowed my head. “They did take me in.”

“A selfish thing to do, all things considered. I can’t help but wonder if you wouldn’t have had a much happier childhood with Nora.”

“Maybe, but she had challenges of her own to overcome.”

“We all do, Brynn. We all do. But let’s get back to Georgia, shall we? What are we going to do about her? Have you consulted a grimoire?”

I wrapped my arms around myself. “I have.”

“And what did you find?”

To Separate a Witch from her Powers. I didn’t dare repeat what I’d read. The warning with the spell was explicit, and came with a skull and crossbones.

Hannah leaned toward me, the candlelight glowing in her eyes. The telepathic tingle inside my head was followed by a gasp. “That is quite extreme, I’d have to say. Hopefully, the situation won’t call for anything so drastic.”

“I’m back to mind control of her father. Convince him without him realizing he needs my help.”

“I suspect if this little girl is appearing to you when she sleeps, you have more influence with her than you believe.” She returned to the bookshelf and retrieved a clear crystal shaped like a carpenter’s pencil. She pressed it into my palm, stepped back and opened her arms. “We do not have the gift of divination, but we do have strong intuition. Concentrate on your cousin Jason and his daughter. Take this crystal and roll it across the floor. Together, we will see what it might show us.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

I opened my palm and gently rolled the crystal across the floor. Hannah held the candle so it refracted in the facets. “I see your cousin and I see a woman.” She closed her eyes. “The family tie is strong. I don’t believe the overarching issue is with Jason, but with the woman—a reckless woman. I see a line between this woman and Georgia, a line with waves and dips like you’d see on an EKG—an unhealthy EKG.”

Hannah bustled to her bookshelf, opening and closing cupboards, and came back with a small jar, sea salt, and a black stone. “In case you don’t have the materials, we’ll do this while you’re here,” she said. “As a precaution.”

The way she fluttered about her task sent warning vibes up and down my arms.