Read Online Frostbite (Modern Knights Book 1) by Joshua Bader - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joshua Bader
Tags: Urban Fantasy
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Dances set for next Monday, but even that was a long shot. The rest of the schedule was more social than religious. The gift shop didn’t have any relevant books, but I did pick up some animal figurines: a bear, a wolf, and an eagle. I didn’t have any immediate use for them, but with magic I never knew when a good symbol would come in handy.
I was going about this the wrong way. I needed to talk to an expert, someone familiar with Native American cosmology. Unfortunately, finding one who would talk to me would take time, years maybe. Unlike the Indo-European traditions I was familiar with, the Native American mystics didn’t feel the compulsion to put everything into writing. Being able to read all the archaic languages in the world didn’t help if no one had ever written a book on the subject.
I needed a way in: an intermediary who knew the lay of the land but who understood my side of the street, too. I needed a spirit guide.
2
I t was after noon by the time I reached the occult shop. Even in the heart of the Bible Belt, there was a demand for witchcraft and the accompanying paraphernalia. Granted, Gaea’s Treasures was far more family-friendly than some of the stores I’d visited in New Orleans or New York, but it was still decisively pagan.
I’m not Wiccan; I’m Catholic. Any time I start to talk about magic, people make the assumption that I don’t believe in Jesus or that I’m into goat sacrifices. Don’t get me wrong. I think Wicca is great. Anybody who really lives their life by the code “And do no harm,” is probably a decent neighbor and a good human being. My standard was love God and love the person standing next to me, but I was the first to admit I didn’t always hit the mark.
“Do you ever hit the mark?”
The Bible and magic aren’t opposed. The original authors clearly believed magic was possible, so much so that they were very specific about what forms of sorcery were not allowable. As far as I can tell, I’m not permitted to invoke other gods, practice necromancy, conduct séances with the dead, brew poisons, or offer human sacrifice. That leaves me a whole lot of room to work with. There are even stories in the Bible about divination, transmutation, and animal magics. Within the bigger picture, though, it’s all about love. Any magic must be practiced within the confines of love towards God, myself, and my fellow man. Again, I was not one hundred percent on the mark, but I tried, and I liked to think the Big Guy gave me credit for that. Most of the sins I struggled against were a lot more mundane than necromancy.
“Lust, for example. Do you have any idea what you could get a girl to do for half of what’s in your wallet right now? What about five girls and all the money in the ATM?”
I ignored him and got back to my shopping. Gaea’s Treasures had a homey feel to it, probably because the owners lived out of the back half of the building. The right wall was given completely over to glass jars stuffed full of herbs. The combined smell was pleasant but pungent, like plowing head first into a field of wildflowers. I skimmed through their offerings and knew I’d end up back at the herb counter. They had quite a few items I thought I might need before the business with the wendigo was all said and done.
Herbs were a must-have for any magical practitioner. Shamans have been working with plants for hundreds of thousands of years, allowing humanity to accumulate a wide knowledge of herb lore. Beside their chemical properties, most herbs have well-known associations with certain spiritual essences. Take the rose, for instance. Love and romance are nowhere in its molecular makeup, but they still embodied the romantic archetype. Unfortunately, herbs were not the friend of the vagabond wizard. My trunk held enough questionable smells without adding valerian root to the mix…and I dreaded traffic stops without carrying extra green leafy substances. Consequently, I usually traveled with
I was going about this the wrong way. I needed to talk to an expert, someone familiar with Native American cosmology. Unfortunately, finding one who would talk to me would take time, years maybe. Unlike the Indo-European traditions I was familiar with, the Native American mystics didn’t feel the compulsion to put everything into writing. Being able to read all the archaic languages in the world didn’t help if no one had ever written a book on the subject.
I needed a way in: an intermediary who knew the lay of the land but who understood my side of the street, too. I needed a spirit guide.
2
I t was after noon by the time I reached the occult shop. Even in the heart of the Bible Belt, there was a demand for witchcraft and the accompanying paraphernalia. Granted, Gaea’s Treasures was far more family-friendly than some of the stores I’d visited in New Orleans or New York, but it was still decisively pagan.
I’m not Wiccan; I’m Catholic. Any time I start to talk about magic, people make the assumption that I don’t believe in Jesus or that I’m into goat sacrifices. Don’t get me wrong. I think Wicca is great. Anybody who really lives their life by the code “And do no harm,” is probably a decent neighbor and a good human being. My standard was love God and love the person standing next to me, but I was the first to admit I didn’t always hit the mark.
“Do you ever hit the mark?”
The Bible and magic aren’t opposed. The original authors clearly believed magic was possible, so much so that they were very specific about what forms of sorcery were not allowable. As far as I can tell, I’m not permitted to invoke other gods, practice necromancy, conduct séances with the dead, brew poisons, or offer human sacrifice. That leaves me a whole lot of room to work with. There are even stories in the Bible about divination, transmutation, and animal magics. Within the bigger picture, though, it’s all about love. Any magic must be practiced within the confines of love towards God, myself, and my fellow man. Again, I was not one hundred percent on the mark, but I tried, and I liked to think the Big Guy gave me credit for that. Most of the sins I struggled against were a lot more mundane than necromancy.
“Lust, for example. Do you have any idea what you could get a girl to do for half of what’s in your wallet right now? What about five girls and all the money in the ATM?”
I ignored him and got back to my shopping. Gaea’s Treasures had a homey feel to it, probably because the owners lived out of the back half of the building. The right wall was given completely over to glass jars stuffed full of herbs. The combined smell was pleasant but pungent, like plowing head first into a field of wildflowers. I skimmed through their offerings and knew I’d end up back at the herb counter. They had quite a few items I thought I might need before the business with the wendigo was all said and done.
Herbs were a must-have for any magical practitioner. Shamans have been working with plants for hundreds of thousands of years, allowing humanity to accumulate a wide knowledge of herb lore. Beside their chemical properties, most herbs have well-known associations with certain spiritual essences. Take the rose, for instance. Love and romance are nowhere in its molecular makeup, but they still embodied the romantic archetype. Unfortunately, herbs were not the friend of the vagabond wizard. My trunk held enough questionable smells without adding valerian root to the mix…and I dreaded traffic stops without carrying extra green leafy substances. Consequently, I usually traveled with
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