“When I don’t understand what’s going on, I do,” I said, deciding not to ask if me manhandling the wax was going to contaminate it with my aura. It wouldn’t matter if it was my aura we were trying to see, but when I did this for Al, I was going to use a ceramic paddle.
“You will need six candles,” Hodin said. “All cut from the same length, one for each of the five chakras we are interested in and one for the All.”
I could almost hear him capitalize his last word, and I was willing to bet the All candle would be going in the center of the pentagon. But then I frowned. How was I supposed to get the wick in the candle?
Seeing me hesitate, Hodin prompted, “It’s acceptable to simply flatten your substrate, apply the wick, and work it into a cylinder again before you cut the candles from the whole.”
“Okay.” Rolling my eyes at Bis, I squished my snake flat, pressed the long wick Hodin gave me into it, and folded the soft wax back over it. I felt like a kid as I estimated how long to make each candle, but Hodin seemed to think I was doing okay. “Snips or knife?” I prompted, and Hodin pushed the snips to me.
His shears were simple and unadorned, more like mine than Al’s overdone extravagance, and I brought them to my nose first, rubbing the metal at the unfamiliar smell. “Pewter?” I asked, and Hodin blinked his red goat-slitted eyes.
“Ye-e-e-es,” he said warily.
“Cool.” I didn’t have pewter snips, but I bet Al did. Lower lip between my teeth, I cut my wax snake into six equal segments. I desperately wanted to ask another question, but didn’t like his increasingly obvious agitation. “I thought there were seven main chakras, not five,” I finally blurted, wincing at Hodin’s expected grimace.
“There are thousands,” Hodin said. “But we’re interested in five. Forcing someone’s aura to change beyond a safe limit will cause insanity. It’s a weapon.” His eyes came back to mine, black in the dim light. “All our magic is. If Newt had changed your inner shells, you would be insane.” He hesitated. “Are you insane, Rachel?”
“Depends who you ask,” I said as I pulled the wicks up and tidied the raw ends of the candles. “Okay?” I asked, wincing at my lumpy versions of birthday cake candles.
“Okay would be the correct word,” Hodin grumped as he handed me his gold scarf.
“I’ve never had to make my own candles,” I said, embarrassed, as I cleaned my fingers. “It’s easier to buy them,” I added, and Bis giggled like grinding rocks.
“I’m sure it is.” Clearly miffed, Hodin tugged his sleeves, accidently untying one of the cords holding them back. “Place your unlit candles within the caves created by the inner circle with words of movement. In this case, wind, water, earth, fire, and thought. Be sure to begin at the space to your right, then move to the upper left, the upper right, the lower left, and finally the top cave. This gives a balanced motion. The last is placed in the center with the words simper reformanda for the ever-changing permanence of soul.”
Now we’re getting somewhere, I thought as I took up my first candle. “Words of movement,” I said as I set the first candle in the open space and did as he asked. I perked up, interest growing as I felt each set candle connect to the ley line, becoming part of the circuit the magic would flow through, becoming part of me until the curse was twisted. Beaming, I looked up, my smile fading when Hodin lifted his eyebrows at my unabashed delight. It was magic, high magic. Why wouldn’t I think it was cool?
“Light the center All candle with solus ipse,” he directed, and I leaned forward, holding my sleeve out of the way as I pinched the wick and marshaled my thoughts.
I alone, I thought as I said the Latin and lit the candle with a thread of ley line energy. Nervous, I drew back, and Hodin nodded his approval. The flame wasn’t the usual yellow, but tinted gold from my aura and streaked with red.
“The next process is important. Attend,” Hodin said, bringing my attention back to him. “Using the All candle, light the bottom right wick with the words hunc effectum.”
For this purpose, I thought as I did so. He was being devilishly finicky on which one to light