“Huh?”
“The spirits of your ancestors are teaching you how to connect to your power through them. Should we test it?”
I nod vigorously, excited to try again.
“Float the feather, Eloise.”
I glance at the feather and try to call up the web. It comes, but instead of rising, the feather starts to smoke. I pull back and look to my mother, who is smiling and shaking her ghostly head. She comes close again and waves her hand near my brow. The web forms again, only not from my side, but from an area between my eyes. I feed energy down the vibration, and the feather floats toward the ceiling.
Maeve squeals. “You did it! Was that with or without her help?”
“With. Let me try it again without.” I nod, and my mother recedes toward the fireplace. I find the thread again. It’s harder this time, like the feather weighs more, but I lift it.
“That’s so good, El! Goddess, it took me so long to master two.”
I grunt and the feather floats down to the plate. A sharp pain cuts through my skull and I grab my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “Oww. Fuck.”
Maeve’s hand is rubbing my back again. “Shhh. That’s all for tonight. I’m afraid we overdid it.” She shoves a tissue into my hand. I don’t understand why until warm liquid oozes out my nose. Blood.
I lean my head back on the couch. The red haze is gone, as are the ghosts of my family members. “Shit, I feel like crap,” I say around the Kleenex. “And it’s cold as fuck in here.”
Maeve grabs the afghan off the back of the couch and wraps it around me. “You’re drained again. I’ll make you some of Aunt Hildie’s tea.” She grabs a tea bag from her purse and heads for the kitchen.
I watch her go, suddenly sleepy. The parlor tilts and then the lights go out.
11
Practice Makes Poltergeist
ELOISE
The next night, Maeve is back again with her Little Miss Witch starter kit as I’ve come to call it. We set up in the parlor as we did the night before.
“If you start feeling cold or your head hurts, we’ll stop,” she promises.
“I slept twelve hours last night after drinking the tea you made me. I’m ready. Let’s do this.” Like last night, the candle, feather, bowl of water, and pot of earth challenge me from their sectors on the purple silk.
“Let’s warm up by lighting the candle,” Maeve suggests.
I snort. “You make it sound like I’m readying myself for a workout.”
“You are. Using magic is like using a muscle. You grow your abilities with practice.”
Sitting up straighter, I concentrate on the candle, trying to find the web again. But I can’t reproduce the vibration from the night before. Until the ticking of the grandfather clock reminds me to anchor. I shift my intent to the clock, and the web rises between me and it.
“What did you just do?” Maeve asks. “I felt your power bubble into being.”
“I connected to the clock. I wasn’t able to form the web directly to the candle but now…” I cast out toward the wick and it ignites. I turn my attention to the feather, and it floats into my hand and then back again.
“Interesting.” Maeve frowns.
“You sound disappointed. Hey, I did it.”
She shifts. “It’s just yesterday, I thought your connection to your anchor was so you could channel your ancestors. I didn’t realize it was also the source of your power. It poses a challenge. It’s not like you can carry the grandfather clock everywhere you go. If we can’t move your anchor into something more portable, it’s possible you may only be able to practice your magic in this house.”
I sigh. “Terrific. As long as I never leave my house, I’ll be a force of nature.”
She laughs. “We’ll do some research in that attic library of yours and see if there’s a spell to change the anchor. For now, if you feel okay, try to swirl the water in the bowl.”
