I took a few Cokesburys from the shelf and peered into the dark, dusty shelves. Then I saw it.
At the back of the bookcase, shoved far behind the rest of the books, was a small, leather-bound book no bigger than those pocket Bibles I’d seen in Boise City. I reached behind the other hymnals and pulled it out.
Squinting against the dust, I held it up and blew the dust off the cover. There, in crisp gold letters, the title stood out: The Complete Booke of Witchcraft.
Must be one of Mother Morevna’s books, I thought. She must have forgotten it was in here.
But when I flipped through it, the chapters were not dull or didactic. They were things like “Dowsing for Beginners,” or “Quick Shortcuts to Spellcraft.” And the scribblings in the margins were not in the tight, dark handwriting Mother Morevna had left in A History of Witches. This wasn’t cursive at all. All capital letters, in pencil, writing notes about things like how to create lightning from a handful of dust and crushed seashells, or how to make light appear in your hand. And then, far toward the back, how to breathe fire.
New energy seemed to leap into my veins. This was something practical, something I could use. With this, I could prove that I was cut out for this. And extra study couldn’t hurt, could it? Surely not, if there was even the remotest possibility that I’d be dealing with the Dust Soldiers in four months’ time.
So I flung the Futhark workbook to the floor, did a few quick stretches, and spread out on the bed with The Complete Booke of Witchcraft.
I flipped through the introduction and landed on the second page.
“‘Chapter One: Practical Spells for Every Witch,’” I read.
Though many spells center on specialty, there are a few basic spells that can be mastered by almost any witch. First, IMBUED OBJECTS. In order to direct and focus her power, a witch may choose an object and imbue it with her essence. This will act as a conduit for her magic, strengthening her power. Usually, pieces of jewelry are best for this, as metal and stone are conductors of magical power.
Like Mother Morevna’s pendulum, I thought. But I didn’t have any necklaces or brooches, or even earrings. A pebble, maybe? No. That didn’t seem special enough, unique enough.
But then I remembered. I went to my desk and opened the small wooden box that had been brought over from my shack. I opened it, riffled through, and after a moment I found what I was looking for. It was a normal penny at first, tails-side glance, two stalks of wheat surrounding the words ONE CENT UNITED STATES OF AMERICA and, above that, E PLURIBUS UNUM. I’d found it on the floor of the hospital room Mama had lived her final days in. At first I’d thought it was good luck, but when I turned the penny over to see what year it had been minted, instead of a heads side, there was just another back. Another tails. I had been disappointed at first. “This penny’s broken,” I had said. But I remembered the smile on her cracked, dirty lips. “It’s got ‘E pluribus unum’ on it twice,” she’d said. “So that’s double good.” “What does that mean?” I had asked. “It means ‘From many, one.’”
It felt good, warm, right, somehow. This will do, I thought.
I went to the next step and read along to myself out loud.
“‘Take the object into your hand and focus on it. Memorize the object in your mind’… Okay.”
I closed my eyes and did as the book said. I focused on how the penny felt in my hand, its coolness growing warm with my body heat. Then I opened one eye a crack and went on.
“‘Imagine all of your power, your energy, flowing from your head, to your chest, through your muscles, and into your object. When your object is full of your power, you will feel it vibrate.’”
I took a deep breath, in and out.
“All right,” I said to myself. “Here goes…”
Then I closed my eyes again, tight, concentrating on the penny in my hand. I imagined myself full of energy, thought of the blackbirds, of the feeling of the rain on my skin. I imagined all of that flowing from my head, down into my chest, down through the muscles and veins and arteries of my arm, into my hand. And to my surprise, the penny began to grow warm in my hand,