Proven Guilty (The Dresden Files #8) - Jim Butcher Page 0,21
wick braided from the hairs of a unicorns mane. Air would be anchored by a pair of hawk-wing feathers wrought from gold with impossibly fine detail and precision by a band of svartalves whose mortal contact sold examples of their craftsmanship out of a shop in Norway. And for the fifth element, spirit, I would use my mothers silver pentacle amulet.
Other props followed, to engage the senses. Incense for scent and fresh grapes for taste. Tactile forces would depend upon a double-sided three-inch square Id made from velvet on one side and sandpaper on the other. A rather large, deeply colored opal set within a silver frame reflected back every color of the rainbow, and would hold down the sight portion of the spell. And when I got rolling I would strike my old tuning fork against the floor for sound.
Mind, body, and heart came last. For mind, I would use an old K-Bar military knife as my ritual athame , as I usually did. Fresh droplets of my blood upon a clean white cloth would symbolize my physical body. For heart, I placed several photos of those who were dear to me inside a sack of silver-white silk. My parents, Susan, Murphy, Thomas, Mouse and Mister (my thirty-pound grey tomcat, currently on walkabout), and after a brief hesitation, Michael and his family.
I prepared the ritual circle on my lab floor, carefully sweeping it, mopping it, sweeping it again, then cleansing it with captured rainwater poured from a small, silver ewer. I brought in all the props and laid them out, ready to go.
Then I prepared myself. I lit sandalwood incense and more faerie-candles in the bathroom, started up the shower, then went step by step through a routine of washing, while focusing my mind on the task at hand. The water sluicing over me would drain away any random magical energies, a crucial step in the spellcontaminating the spells energy with other forces would cause it to fail.
I finished bathing, dried, and slipped into my white robe. Then I knelt on the floor at the head of the stairs down to the lab, closed my eyes, and began meditating. Just as no other energies could be allowed into the ritual, my concentration had to be of similar purity. Random thoughts, worries, fears, and emotions would sabotage the spell. I focused on my breathing, upon stilling my thoughts, and felt my limbs grow a little chill as my heartbeat slowed. Worries of the day, my aches and pains, my thoughts of the futureall had to go. It took a while to get myself in the proper frame of mind, and by the time I was finished it had been dark for two hours and my knees ached somewhere in the background.
I opened my eyes and everything came into a brilliantly sharp focus that discounted the existence of anything except myself, my magic, and the ritual awaiting me. It had been a long, wearying preparation, and I hadnt even started with the magic yet, but if the spell could help me nail the bad guys quicker, the hours of effort would be well worth it.
Silence and focus ruled.
I was ready.
And then the fucking phone rang about a foot from my ear.
It is possible that I made some kind of unmanly noise when I jumped. My posture-numbed legs didnt respond as quickly as I needed them to, and I lurched awkwardly to one side, half falling onto the nearest couch.
Dammit! I screamed in sudden frustration. Dammit, dammit, dammit!
Mouse looked up from his lazy drowse and tilted his head to one side, ears up and forward.
What are you looking at? I snarled.
Mouses jaw dropped open into a grin, and his tail wagged.
I rubbed my hand at my face while the phone kept on ringing. It had been a while since Id done any seriously focused magic like that, and granted, I really dont get very many calls, but all the same I should have remembered to unplug the phone. Four hours of preparation gone to waste.
The phone kept ringing, and my head pounded in time with it. I ached. Stupid phone. Stupid car crash. I tried to think positive, because I read somewhere that its important to do that at times of stress and frustration. Whoever wrote that was probably selling something.
I picked up the phone and growled, Screw thinking positive, into the handset.
Urn, said a womans voice. What did you say?
Screw thinking positive! I half shouted. What the hell do you want?