Read Online Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie She's Dead (Toad Witch Series, Book One) by Christiana Miller - Free Book Online
Authors: Christiana Miller
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ripples in the other.” He kissed my cheek and then he was off, trailing scents of amber, patchouli and vanilla behind him.
As I watched Gus get into his SUV, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. He had a point. Why was I being so reluctant to use magic? It’s not like I was making a frivolous request. Incipient homelessness combined with joblessness was a big deal. Could I really afford to be hamstrung by a dream about my dad?
As I stood up to go in, a crow flew into the courtyard and a long, black, wing feather slowly floated down. I caught the feather as the crow settled on the second-floor iron railing, loudly cawing.
I looked up at him. “I’ve already had one lecture tonight. I don’t need one from you, too.”
He cawed one more time, turned around on the railing and lifted his tail. I dodged under the overhang, barely avoiding a runny white plotz. While some cultures considered it lucky if a bird poops on your head, I considered it kinda gross and something to be avoided at all costs.
Later that night, with Gus’s words ringing in my ears, I decided to put my doubts aside. After Mrs. Lasio was asleep, I closed my blinds and got out all my witchy accoutrements. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do, but I had a feeling it would require more oomph than just wishing.
I lit two candles: a red one for illumination and a blue one for the ancestors. Given Mrs. Lasio’s hypersensitive nose, however, I skipped the incense.
Then I placed the cauldron in the center of the room, poured in a little bit of rubbing alcohol and fired up the liquid with a long-handled lighter. The sudden flare quickly spread into a small pool of blue fire. Flames licked up the side of the black iron, casting playful shadows across my tattoos.
I waived the crow’s feather over the cauldron, sweeping the air currents in a circle, as I waited for guidance from the ancestors, for words to pop into my head.
Within minutes, I heard myself chanting: “Lady of the Cauldron, Lady of the Grail. Be with me here, guide me through this trial. Show me strong, show me true, just what is it I need to do.”
I got a clear visual in my head and opened up a box of Sculpty clay. As I softened and shaped the clay in my hands, I circled the cauldron, continuing to chant:
“From the currents of the air, from the feathers of the birds, from the darkness of the void, I make you.”
I formed the clay into a rough image of a bird. I pushed the crow’s feather into the clay.
“By the power of the Goddess of the Witches. By the power of the Horned God of Old. By the power within me, until your task is accomplished, live and be free!”
I brought the clay bird up to my lips. “With my breath I give you life. Fly where I can not. Fly and search on my behalf. Fly and bring me back a home.”
I took a deep breath, so deep it felt like I was pulling it up from the center of the earth. It went through my entire body until I exhaled loudly into the clay bird fetch, with the intent of breathing life into it. I tossed the bird into the cauldron and blue flames flared up.
To my shock and amazement, I saw the spirit of the fetch as it left the cauldron, soared through a closed patio door leading to an outdoor alcove, and out into the night.
When I looked back at the cauldron, the blue flames curled in on themselves, then were sucked back into the iron and extinguished. Utter darkness enveloped the room.
Chapter Nine
I turned on the lights. What the hell was going on? I had never seen a fetch take life like that. I mean, as much as all those fantasy books and movies about witches would have you thinking that Otherworld realms are three-dimensional and you can interact with fairies as if they were solid beings, the reality is usually quite different.
As a witch, you can ‘ see ‘ other dimensions, but it’s a third-eye thing. It’s almost like having an overactive imagination, but one that’s eerily accurate. Fleeting
As I watched Gus get into his SUV, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. He had a point. Why was I being so reluctant to use magic? It’s not like I was making a frivolous request. Incipient homelessness combined with joblessness was a big deal. Could I really afford to be hamstrung by a dream about my dad?
As I stood up to go in, a crow flew into the courtyard and a long, black, wing feather slowly floated down. I caught the feather as the crow settled on the second-floor iron railing, loudly cawing.
I looked up at him. “I’ve already had one lecture tonight. I don’t need one from you, too.”
He cawed one more time, turned around on the railing and lifted his tail. I dodged under the overhang, barely avoiding a runny white plotz. While some cultures considered it lucky if a bird poops on your head, I considered it kinda gross and something to be avoided at all costs.
Later that night, with Gus’s words ringing in my ears, I decided to put my doubts aside. After Mrs. Lasio was asleep, I closed my blinds and got out all my witchy accoutrements. I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do, but I had a feeling it would require more oomph than just wishing.
I lit two candles: a red one for illumination and a blue one for the ancestors. Given Mrs. Lasio’s hypersensitive nose, however, I skipped the incense.
Then I placed the cauldron in the center of the room, poured in a little bit of rubbing alcohol and fired up the liquid with a long-handled lighter. The sudden flare quickly spread into a small pool of blue fire. Flames licked up the side of the black iron, casting playful shadows across my tattoos.
I waived the crow’s feather over the cauldron, sweeping the air currents in a circle, as I waited for guidance from the ancestors, for words to pop into my head.
Within minutes, I heard myself chanting: “Lady of the Cauldron, Lady of the Grail. Be with me here, guide me through this trial. Show me strong, show me true, just what is it I need to do.”
I got a clear visual in my head and opened up a box of Sculpty clay. As I softened and shaped the clay in my hands, I circled the cauldron, continuing to chant:
“From the currents of the air, from the feathers of the birds, from the darkness of the void, I make you.”
I formed the clay into a rough image of a bird. I pushed the crow’s feather into the clay.
“By the power of the Goddess of the Witches. By the power of the Horned God of Old. By the power within me, until your task is accomplished, live and be free!”
I brought the clay bird up to my lips. “With my breath I give you life. Fly where I can not. Fly and search on my behalf. Fly and bring me back a home.”
I took a deep breath, so deep it felt like I was pulling it up from the center of the earth. It went through my entire body until I exhaled loudly into the clay bird fetch, with the intent of breathing life into it. I tossed the bird into the cauldron and blue flames flared up.
To my shock and amazement, I saw the spirit of the fetch as it left the cauldron, soared through a closed patio door leading to an outdoor alcove, and out into the night.
When I looked back at the cauldron, the blue flames curled in on themselves, then were sucked back into the iron and extinguished. Utter darkness enveloped the room.
Chapter Nine
I turned on the lights. What the hell was going on? I had never seen a fetch take life like that. I mean, as much as all those fantasy books and movies about witches would have you thinking that Otherworld realms are three-dimensional and you can interact with fairies as if they were solid beings, the reality is usually quite different.
As a witch, you can ‘ see ‘ other dimensions, but it’s a third-eye thing. It’s almost like having an overactive imagination, but one that’s eerily accurate. Fleeting
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