the two pages from the Book of Life. Another thread came from the compendium’s gilded dial. It lit a spot on the map of England, then slithered off to a map at Linda’s feet.
Corra swept down and pounced on the spot, crying out with triumph as though she had caught some unsuspecting prey. A town’s name illuminated, a bright burst of flame leaving the charred outlines of letters.
The spell complete, the roaring diminished. Power receded from my body, loosening the knotted cords. But they did not recoil back into my hands. They stayed where they were, running through me as if they had formed a new bodily system.
When the power had retreated, I swayed slightly. Ysabeau started forward.
“No!” Sarah cried. “Don’t break the circle, Ysabeau.”
My mother-in-law clearly thought this was madness. Without Matthew here she was prepared to be overprotective in his stead. But Sarah was right: Nobody could break the circle but me. Feet dragging, I returned to the same spot where I’d started weaving my spell. Sybil and Tamsin smiled encouragingly as the fingers on my left hand flicked and furled, releasing the circle’s hold. All that remained to do then was to trudge around the circle counterclockwise, unmaking the magic.
Linda was much quicker, briskly walking her own path in reverse. The moment she was through, both Ysabeau and Sarah rushed to my side. The London witches raced to the map that revealed Weston’s location.
“Dieu, I have not seen magic like that for centuries. Matthew told me true when he said you were a formidable witch,” Ysabeau said with admiration.
“Very nice spell casting, honey.” Sarah was proud of me. “Not a single wobble of doubt or moment of hesitation.”
“Did it work?” I certainly hoped so. Another spell of that magnitude would require weeks of rest first. I joined the witches at the map. “Oxfordshire?”
“Yes,” Linda said doubtfully. “But I fear we may not have asked a specific enough question.”
There, on the map, was the blackened outline of a very English-sounding village called Chipping Weston.
“The initials were on the paper, but I forgot to include them in the words of the spell.” My heart sank.
“It is far too soon to admit defeat.” Ysabeau already had her phone out and was dialing. “Phoebe?
Does a T. J. Weston live in Chipping Weston?”
The possibility that T. J. Weston could live in a town called Weston had not occurred to any of us.
We waited for Phoebe’s reply.
Ysabeau’s face relaxed in sudden relief. “Thank you. We will be home soon. Tell Marthe that Diana will need a compress for her head and cold cloths for her feet.”
Both were aching, and my legs were more swollen with each passing minute. I looked at Ysabeau gratefully.
“Phoebe tells me there is a T. J. Weston in Chipping Weston,” Ysabeau reported. “He lives in the Manor House.”
“Oh, well done. Well done, Diana.” Linda beamed at me. The other London witches clapped, as though I had just performed a particularly difficult piano solo without flubbing a note.
“This is not a night we will soon forget,” Tamsin said, her voice shaking with emotion, “for tonight a weaver came back to London, bringing the past and future together so that old worlds might die and new be born.”
“That’s Mother Shipton’s prophecy,” I said, recognizing the words.
“Ursula Shipton was born Ursula Soothtell. Her aunt, Alice Soothtell, was my ancestor,” Tamsin said. “She was a weaver, like you.”
“You are related to Ursula Shipton!” Sarah exclaimed. “I am,” Tamsin replied. “The women in my family have kept the knowledge of weavers alive, even though we have had only one other weaver born into the family in more than five hundred years. But Ursula prophesied that the power was not lost forever. She foresaw the years of darkness, when witches would forget weavers and all they represent: hope, rebirth, change. Ursula saw this night, too.”
“How so?” I thought of the few lines of Mother Shipton’s prophecy that I knew. None of them seemed relevant to tonight’s events.
“‘And those that live will ever fear
The dragon’s tail for many year,
But time erases memory.
You think it strange. But it will be,’” Tamsin recited.
She nodded, and the other witches joined in, speaking in one voice.
And before the race is built anew, A silver serpent comes to view And spews out men of like unknown To mingle with the earth now grown Cold from its heat, and these men can Enlighten the minds of future man.