Magic Lessons (Practical Magic) - Alice Hoffman Page 0,124

as practical as it was passionate. The Book of the Raven was the author’s book of spells and enchantments, lost at the time of her death, nearly fifty years earlier.

Know what you want, and be sure of it, for regret gives birth to more regret and nothing more.

The author could call up strange maladies, force a liar to tell the truth, conjure demons that would haunt men’s dreams. She had studied astrology with a great master in Italy, and the written conjurations and charms formed by the power of her words were so intense and beautiful they turned silver in the dark and could be read by the light of their meaning alone. She had been trained to be charming, but she gathered knowledge solely to make certain she would never again have to do anyone’s bidding. The men who had used her, she used in return. Always it was words that saved her and renewed her and gave her freedom, even when she appeared to be chained to her life by love.

The Book of the Raven

What I have sacrificed, what I have given, what I have hidden from the world, what is needed to do the same.

A wand of hazel will be needed.

Rose water should be beside you at all times.

The pentacle of Solomon should be drawn on the floor to summon the spirit of Oberon, the king of magic.

Stand in a circle that unites the four sections of the world and the four elements, then burn myrtle wood and sandalwood. Burn white nettle, the herb of the archangel.

After this process one would be able to see into the future, control the elements, enchant mortals, subdue enemies, and invoke a malediction for enemies.

I conjure you by fire, by blood, and by memory so that you may perceive your eternal sentence.

Let it be so.

This thing of darkness I acknowledge to be mine.

What had been done to Faith, she would give back to the world three times over, then three times again. Darkness begets darkness, and nothing could be darker than her own imaginings while locked away in Brooklyn. Had she been capable of ridding herself of her iron cuffs, she would have burned the house down. To carry such vengeful thoughts was a heavy burden, and it was a relief to have found a volume whose author seemed to know her very soul. As Faith paged through The Book of the Raven, her fingers were burning, her mind was inflamed, and her hair turned a deeper, darker red. It was on this day that she became a woman, for there was blood between her legs, and the woman she had become was one who wanted magic more than love. She would have stolen The Book of the Raven if need be, but the bookseller considered it worthless and gave it to her for a single silver coin. A woman with a small white dog was watching, and she looked displeased. “These are not rants meant for children,” the woman warned, for it was such a strange and unsettling volume. Faith was young, with freckles dusting her cheeks and a somber expression in her pale eyes.

The magic books at this stall were concealed by a white shroud, to keep them from catching on fire and from influencing both the bookseller and his buyers, for such texts were known to change a person’s temperament so they became nearly unrecognizable, even to themselves. Though Catherine Durant did not introduce herself, she was concerned, for she recognized the girl to be Maria’s daughter; she saw inside her, and she worried for her future.

“I think it’s best if you don’t sell it,” Catherine Durant told the bookseller.

“Be assured, the book is not for me.” By now, Faith was a brilliant liar. She couldn’t be shaken from a false statement even when interrogated, a skill she’d learned at Martha’s hands. Have you tried to work magic? Have you spoken to anyone in town? Have you collected herbs? Have you been yourself? “I can’t read,” Faith told the woman, a white spot appearing on her fingernail as she spoke. “It’s for my grandfather.”

“Sold,” the bookseller said. So few females could read or write, it was easy for the vendor to believe her. And there was yet another reason he didn’t argue with the girl. He knew enough of the Nameless Art to know that he didn’t wish to quarrel with someone who could turn silver coins black, and he now realized that the coin Faith had paid