Tonight, though, the chairs are empty. Tia’s not here, either. I walk across the bower, my cloak brushing the dead leaves, and pause in the center. My skin prickles. I turn to face the clearing.
In the middle stands the wolf. I didn’t hear it arrive. Like last time, it’s gray and huge, its shaggy mane bristling. It has powerful shoulders and huge feet, topped with silver claws. It opens its mouth to pant, revealing rows of sharp teeth. They’re bloody—it’s recently killed.
My heart bangs against my ribs, and my breath clouds in puffs of white. Apart from when I was in the river, I’ve never seen any animal like this in my meditation before, and I know immediately my own mind has not conjured it. I also know at one glimpse that it’s here to do me harm.
Someone, or something, has trapped me in the Otherworlds. If this evil spirit kills me while I’m here, I’ll never find my way back to my body.
I need to do a spell, but even as I take a step to one side, the wolf moves with me, walking a few feet closer. I’m not going to have enough time to gather the ingredients.
Even though I’ve been at this a while, I’m not a high priestess by any means. I can’t yet do magic with a wave of my hand, and it takes preparation and practice and intention to create a spell.
The wolf takes another step toward me and snarls. Its eyes are a bright blue. I feel a stab of recognition. Whoever has sent this spirit animal, I’m sure I know them.
A sound at the edge of the forest makes us both glance over, and I get my second surprise of the evening. It’s a stag, its sleek coat a glossy reddish brown. Its large antlers sparkle with stars. It’s one of Herne’s hunters, who ride with him on the Wild Hunt. I stare at it in awe, at its mighty form, its noble face. It appears I have a champion.
The wolf lifts his head and howls, and the stag moves forward into the clearing. Even before the howl dies away, the wolf is crouching, and then its muscles bunch and stretch as it gives a mighty leap.
The stag braces itself, lowering its head, and the wolf crashes onto its antlers. The stag lifts its powerful neck, tossing the wolf aside, but the wolf isn’t finished yet. It snarls and crouches, ready to pounce again.
My feet are frozen to the floor, but I have to move. The stag is here to defend me, but there’s no guarantee he will win this battle. I have to do what I can to save myself.
I turn away from the two of them, walk quickly to the edge of the bower, and jump off into the forest. The ground is covered with a layer of snow, hampering my view. I drop to my knees and brush it away, searching beneath the white carpet.
It’s a magical forest, so I’m not surprised to see herbs and plants that don’t always grow together in a real wood. I pick some thistle and mandrake for protection, collect some oak leaves for strength, a handful of mushrooms growing at the base of a tree, and finally some mugwort. I open the lantern and release the fairies inside who gave the lantern its magical glow. I slip and slide down the bank to the stream at the bottom and fill the glass container with river water.
Returning to the bower, I get back in time to see the stag gore the wolf in the shoulder with one of its antlers. The wolf howls, pushes back with its meaty paws, and tears itself off the branch. In retaliation, it sinks its teeth into the stag’s front haunch, and the stag whimpers.
My heart banging like a shaman’s drum, I sit in the middle of the bower and place the items I’ve found before me. I don’t have a mortar and pestle, so I take one of the bowls of fruit, tip out the apples and pears, and place the items I found in it. Then I pick up a large stone and crush them beneath it.
The stag has freed itself from the wolf’s jaws, and blood now runs down its chest. It’s clearly tiring. It lowers its head, threatening the wolf, who prowls around it.
It’s so cold in the glade. It’s snowing thickly now, rime spreading along the branches of the trees, as if a snow giant is blowing upon the forest.
The items in the bowl are disintegrating beneath the rock. I continue grinding, though, because it has to be a fine powder. The skin of my palm hurts beneath the rock, and a thread of blood runs down my finger into the bowl. I don’t mind—it won’t harm the spell and will probably aid it.
I can’t bless the water by the moon because she’s hiding her face. Instead, holding the container in one hand, I draw a sigil in the air with the other. Everyone at the Coven of Crows learns about a variety of religions, and we are all versed in the Japanese healing art of Reiki. I sketch a symbol, two short lines and an anticlockwise spiral, and murmur the glyph’s name. The symbol glows silver and sinks into the water, which takes on the hue of mother-of-pearl.
I drink a mouthful of the water, hoping the fairy river doesn’t have any nasty bacteria hiding in it, and pour the rest around me. Then I cast a circle the same way Kimi did, saying the same prayer. “Mother Goddess, of loving light, watch over me both day and night…”
The fight before me is growing bloody, and the air is rent with growls. As I complete the rhyme, power rises within me, and I begin to glow.
I take the bowl of powder and tip it onto my hand. “I summon the earth to protect and guard, blessed by the Black Moon and the stars, water to cleanse and wash away, my fears and worries keep at bay.” My voice lowers as energy pools in my solar plexus. “Fire to warm and fire to burn, I summon a point of no return, air to lift and to disperse, by the Goddess’ will, I cast this verse. Mandrake, I bid you give sleep…”
I blow on my hand.
A breeze brushes across my face. It lifts the powder from my palms and carries it into the air. It spreads across the glade, a thick golden dust, coating the grass, the trees, and the two animals tearing at each other in front of me.
They break apart. The stag shakes its head. The wolf sneezes. They both sway on their feet. And then, slowly, they sink to the ground.
I jump down from the bower. My heart hammers as I cross the clearing. There’s blood everywhere, and the creatures are covered in wounds. My heart breaks for the stag, who fought for me so nobly. My hands are still covered in the gold dust, and I kneel before him and brush my fingers over his short hair as I whisper, “Goddess, fill this stag with light, care for him both day and night, pass your healing through my hands, so your love he understands…”
The stag opens his eyes, and he speaks to me. Or at least, I hear his voice in my head. “Go,” he says in his rich, deep voice.
“I can’t leave you, my champion.” I’m near to tears. “You would have given your life for me.”
The stag licks my hand.
“You gave me the time I needed to cast the spell,” I tell him. “I won’t forget you.”
“Herne watches over me,” he says. “Go, I will live.”
I hesitate.
“Go,” he repeats.
I get to my feet. I want to stay, but I know he’s right. The wolf is stirring, and the spell won’t last long.
I start running along the path through the woods. A howl pierces the air behind me. I pick up the pace, my breath frosting in clouds before my face. I’m not going to make it. Any moment now, I’ll feet his hot breath on my heels, his jaws close around my ankle. My feet kick up dead leaves and snow, and I stumble several times, but I keep going.
The end of the path lies before me, and the bridge over the river to the stile that leads to my memory palace. I’m not going to risk a glance over my shoulder. I run and I run, and I’m sure I can hear the wolf’s huge feet pounding on the ground… I’m almost there… and then I jump and sail through the air, landing on the grass on the other side with a crash—