flame under the bottle several times and then tilted the candle until it began to drip wax onto the counter.
“North. South,” she chanted in her Russian-tinged English. “East. West. These are the directions in which we travel.” She continued to drip wax until the face of a compass appeared. When she was done, she asked Lily to slowly sprinkle salt along the wax pattern as she spoke. Nadia ran the flame of the candle under the bottle one more time and then began to murmur the words of a spell under her breath. Slowly she unscrewed the cap on the bottle and handed the candle to Elsa. Then she picked up the paintbrush. Symbols began to glow when she clasped the handle. Nadia dipped the brush into the jar and continued to speak.
“Subnoto. Signum. Terminus.”
As soon as the brush touched my arm it began to sting. I had expected her to draw the images on my arm, adding each site I had seen on the map. Instead she was running the brush up and down the length of my arm, much the same way a painter would try to cover a wall. As my arm was coated with the liquid, exact copies of the line drawings I had seen on the map began to appear. I’m not sure how long it took her to complete the process. I was transfixed, watching the map take shape on my arm. The pain was no less and no more than what Nadia and Lily had promised. It stung and my arm burned, but I was almost too distracted by the magic to be uncomfortable.
When Nadia was finished, she asked Lily to put the last of the salt on the wax compass on the counter. Then the old witch placed the brush in the flame of the candle and said “Termino.” The hairs of the brush glowed, but did not catch fire.
I looked down at my arm. There were a half dozen line drawings sitting at the surface of my skin, all angry red and swollen at the edges.
“Can I touch?” I asked, hoping I could put a cold cloth or some ice on my arm. Nadia nodded and took a small clay jar out of the other pocket of her sweater, which I was beginning to suspect was bewitched to hold anything she needed. She opened the pot and moved it under my nose several times so I could pick up the fragrance. “Calendula flowers,” she said, as I smiled at the scent. “It will help your skin heal.” Nadia rubbed the salve on my arm and asked Elsa to bandage it for the night. “In the morning, you can remove the bandage,” she added, as she began to pack up her belongings.
“What will it look like tomorrow?” I asked, worried there would be some big, ugly mess on my arm.
“The map will be visible for the next few days, but only to you,” she continued. “It will disappear and only return when you request it.”
“Request,” I repeated, but Nadia shook her head.
“Not out loud. All you need to do is think about the map to see it. The map is bound to you now.” I stared at my arm, marveling at how, for the second time in recent weeks, I’d managed to stamp myself with permanent ink.
“There is one more thing,” Nadia said, interrupting my thoughts. “The map will change.”
This caught everyone’s attention.
“How do you mean?” Lily asked.
Nadia fixed a stare on the three of us, much like a schoolteacher dealing with an inept student. “The magic that binds the map is a part of the same spell that creates the portals. If the locations change, or a route is blocked, you will see it.”
“And if I leave San Francisco?” I asked, thinking this handy information.
Again, Nadia fixed me with eyes that spoke volumes about my inexperience. “The map will display the portals located in the place where you are. If your arm is blank, it means there is no exit.”
That sounded ominous.
“I think it’s time for tea,” Lily interjected, thankfully.
We made Nadia a cup of tea and the four of us sat in amicable silence for a few minutes. Finally the old woman stood up abruptly and declared that she was tired and wanted to leave.
“I will walk you,” Elsa offered, but Nadia declined, saying a walk in the crisp night air would do her some good.
When we reached the door, Nadia asked for my hand and began to examine my