Bone Magic

“Good enough. Now get your ass back in the box.” Morio held out Rodney’s home. “Or I’ll take you apart bone by bone.”

Rodney sounded aggrieved. “Don’t be that way—”

“Now.” Morio’s voice was too calm. Apparently, Rodney thought so, too, because, without another word, he shrank to his normal size and climbed in the box. Morio slapped the lid shut and stared at the box. “Motherfucking piece of trash. Where the hell did Grandmother Coyote get this thing?” He slid it into his bag and turned back to me. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but don’t ever leave me alone with him when he’s off his leash, okay?” The thought of being at Rodney’s mercy, especially when he was my size, was too nauseating to consider.

Delilah was staring at the two of us like we were crazy. “I feel like I’m watching some bad B-grade horror flick. I’d like to know just what you guys have been up to over the past two months.”

Grinning, I started to speak but she hastily waved me away.

“On the other hand, don’t bother. You might give me nightmares.”

I shook my head. “Let’s get on with it, or it will be night before we’re done and the goshanti will be out and about.”

“So why can’t Chase come in here during the day since she’s at rest?” Delilah asked.

Morio fielded that one. “Because even if the goshanti is asleep, there’s still the chance she’ll wake up. Or that there are other spirits here with her. Sometimes they run in packs with other creatures from the Netherworld.”

I stared at him. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“You didn’t ask,” he said, grinning.

While Delilah finished digging the hole, I ringed the yew with salt and then prepared a cup of salt for the grave, mixing in a generous dose of sage and, for good measure, I added a few of the yew needles.

As I took out my dagger and sat on the wet ground in the lotus position, Morio knelt behind me, his hands on my shoulders. I could feel the warmth of his hands through the chill that enveloped my skin, and it traveled down through my breasts, down into my stomach.

When his energy hit my tailbone, it merged with my own and I felt our conjoined essences begin to rise, to cycle through both of us—through me, into his hands, through him, into the earth, then they were spiraling through dirt and soil and rock to root deeply within my legs and travel up through my tailbone again. A circle—a Möbius strip of power, we were joined by both magic and soul.

Since we’d undergone the Soul Symbiont ritual, our rituals had become stronger. Now, we seldom needed words to know what the other was going to do. Morio couldn’t reinforce my Moon magic—that came from the Moon Mother herself and was solely mine, and he couldn’t strengthen my work with the unicorn horn, as far as I knew. But the death magic had taken on a force of its own and together we were far more powerful than either of us alone.

As the magic cycled through our bodies, I began to force it outward, to send a ripple of energy out to encircle the yew tree, to ride on the wind and soak into the very land. Morio backed me up and the ripple became a cleansing wave as he fed me the energy and I directed it. The wave splashed over the aching souls and wounded bones and I heard a chorus of cries begging for release.

Inhale deeply . . . another long breath as Morio infuses me with the power to guide the spirits to their path . . .

Exhale slowly, as the magic reaches out to scatter the souls, to free them from their shackles to the bones . . .

Inhale again . . . the energy flares and everything within the circle shines with a brilliant golden light. So many people think white is the color of purity but white is the color of death. Gold purifies, silver protects . . .

And exhale . . . feel the souls fleeing the land, racing off to rest and return to their ancestors. The anguish is diminishing . . . and there—there is the goshanti, asleep, for it is her time to sleep, but she knows something’s wrong and seeks to wake . . .

“Camille! Camille! Snap out of it. We have to hurry,” Morio said, shaking my shoulders.

I blinked, the vibrant colors of the magic blinding me until they settled into the surrounding area, sinking into the land without so much as a whisper. The yew tree let out a long, contented sigh and I quickly poured the sage and salt mixture over the bones. Then, Morio, Delilah, and I stood beside the tiny grave and chanted the litany for the dead.

“What was life has crumbled. What was form now falls away. Mortal chains unbind, and the soul is lifted free. May you find your way to the ancestors. May you find your path to the gods. May your bravery and courage be remembered in song and story. May your parents be proud, and may your children carry your birthright. Sleep, and wander no more.”

When we were done, there was another soft hush as a gust of wind rushed by and carried the last vestiges of the souls to their destiny. I arched my back and watched as Delilah filled in the hole and we drew a binding rune on top, that nothing might disturb their slumber.

“Now, we take care of the goshanti,” Morio said. He motioned to me and I picked up the bag of salt. “Delilah, would you keep watch for us? Stand right at the edge of the sidewalk.”

She took her place and I glanced at Morio. He nodded, and I began to slowly circle the lot, casting handfuls of salt to form a ring of white, a circle of clarity. The salt sizzled as it hit the ground, smoking in some places. The land was hot with turbulence. I closed my eyes, guiding the energy that trailed from my body to form a barrier left in my wake that shimmered and glistened. It, too, was white—white and red. Death and power.

And then, I came back to the beginning and Morio met me, escorting me into the center. I would be the focal point, the lens, and he would use me to focus the energy. I went down on my knees, arms spread out to the side. Morio stood behind me, legs firmly planted to either side of me, his hands raised to the sky. I waited, feeling for the energy, and there it was—the cord spiraling from him to me. Attaching to my aura, the cord slid into place and I shivered, anticipating the flow of power to come.

Death magic was sensual, passionate, addictive, and yet the process was cool and aloof, taking us to the edge of that stark barrier through which every mortal creature eventually had to pass. Even the gods died, at some point. As Morio and I merged into the same channel, I gasped and my head dropped back. I could feel him, alert, magnificent in his pose.

He wavered for a moment and then—as quickly as the energy caught us up—it grounded us deep into the shadows of the trees, the shadows of life, and we were walking on the outskirts of the Netherworld, between realms, in the wash of spirits that passed by us silently. They did not see us, nor did they realize we had slipped into their domain.

I inhaled, letting Morio lead me. He grabbed the threads of magic that ran rife at the gates to the Netherworld and whispered something, and then they were attached to him, and through him—attached to me. We were ready.

“Open your eyes,” he said softly.

I opened my eyes. The lot had taken on a vastly different look. Everywhere I looked, I could see by their auras which plants were dying, and which were thriving. I could feel the bones we’d planted at the base of the yew tree. I could see the aura of the yew itself, glowing like the Blue Light Special at Kmart. And I could see the blood that had fed this ground—long ago soaking deep and drying, but still here, still attached to the land.

“Do you see?” Morio asked.

“I see.”

“Then seek the goshanti.” His arms were still raised above his head. Mine were wide at my sides still, and I directed the energy to spread from my fingertips, to search and find the devil. It trailed out like smoke, swirling through the trees, seeking, probing, searching for the signature of the goshanti.

Like a mist, the vapor carried my vision with it and through a haze I could see a cat hiding under a fern, a garter snake gliding through the foliage, insects and birds looking for food. And then, the mist stopped in a patch of Scotch broom. There. Behind the thick-branched weeds. The swirl of color that marked the goshanti. During the day she showed as a ball of energy, at night she could take form.

“Found her,” I whispered. “Use me.”

Morio drew on the threads from the Netherworld, mixing the energy and binding it to his own, forming the spell to send the devil back to the realm from which she’d come. The power darted along the cords, sparkling like lights. Morio swayed to the music of the realm that pulsated along with the magic. As it hit his hands, he channeled it down through me, sweeping his arms down to fasten his grasp on my shoulders.

The sudden flush caught me up in the dance. Together we soared in the astral, our bodies still firmly grounded Earthside. We spun around each other, mating snakes entwining. Morio laughed, throaty and raw, and his joy raced out to include me. The power of the dead, the power of that dark realm was so much more than it appeared. A fire raced through my body, sending me into an orgasm.

Morio stroked my chin and whispered, “I love you. I love you more than I love life, Camille.”

I traced his lips. “You are one of my chosen,” I said, feeling his tongue curl around my finger. “You are one of my great loves and we’ll always be together. We’re bound for eternity, my youkai, and I would do it all again in a heartbeat. And when it’s our turn to cross over, we’ll pound down these gates together, and you will enter the Land of the Silver Falls with me.”

“We should take care of the goshanti,” he said, his thoughts curling around me like a warm embrace.

“Use me, direct me, guide me.” I reluctantly turned back to the land, wanting nothing more than to hang out on the astral. But we had work to do.

As we settled into the rhythm of the energy, Morio tapped me on the shoulder and I stood, guiding him toward the goshanti. I could barely see the land around me, the colors were so brilliant and amplified. There was a definite disconnect between my feet and my mind, but Morio steadied me. Something slithered over my shoes but it was just a snake, and I paid no attention.

And then we were there, next to the goshanti. She was asleep, and in her slumber I felt sorry for her. I could see how she’d come to be born. Her body, her essence, was a swirl of pain, of anger, of heartbreak and torture. Tears began to slide down my cheeks as I watched her, curled in a ball like a cat.

“You poor thing,” I whispered. “The world can be so fucked up, and you’re just as much a victim as those you prey on.”

Morio squeezed my shoulder in agreement. “We have no choice, Camille. She’ll hurt other innocents if we leave her be. When we send her back to the Netherworld, she’ll be with others of her own kind.”

“Can’t we kill her? Put her out of her misery? It’s no life, to live in hatred and bitterness like this. No matter where you are.”

I didn’t like hearing myself talk like this, but if it were me, I’d rather be dead than live my life a shell, acting out of pain condensed drop by drop from women who’d succumbed to horrendous deaths.

With a slow sigh, Morio nodded. “We can. Are you sure?”

I bit my lip, thinking again that death magic was a nebulous path, a thin line between the power to repel, and the abuse of power.

“I’m not sure of anything anymore.” I shrugged. “But if we kill her, the energy is free to disperse, to be cleansed and renewed. We freed spirits earlier, this will just be ridding the world of another trapped memory of pain.”

“Then we use the Mordente spell, but rather than the banis, we use the despera chant.” He held out his hand and I took it, closing my eyes.

The power filled my lungs with the taste of graveyard soil and dust, of the hand of glory and the hand of might. I licked my lips and joined in as he began the incantation. Again, I would be the focus for the energy as it traveled through him, through me, toward the goshanti.

“Mordente reto, mordente reto, mordente reto despera.”

The goshanti opened her eyes, still in her energetic form rather than physical. She lifted her head and gazed at us, her glowing eyes curious.

“Mordente reto, mordente reto, mordente reto despera.”

I could feel the energy quake through me as a breeze sprang up. The rain began to fall again, the sky dark with threatening thunderheads. The goshanti opened her mouth and let out a whimper.

“Mordente reto, mordente reto, mordente reto despera.”

Morio’s will was strong, and mine as well. The spell raced through us now, alive and aware on its own, affixed to its target. I focused on the goshanti, willing her to go quietly, willing her to accept that if she allowed us to release her, the pain she felt would cycle back to the universe, cleansed and renewed in joy.

“Mordente reto, mordente reto, mordente reto despera.”

Morio’s voice thundered above mine, and his direction was absolute. I hesitated a moment, but remembered how the devil had come to be and steeled myself. Together, our voices danced on the breeze, spun in a whirlwind of autumn leaves, blotted out the life force of the goshanti.

“Mordente reto, mordente reto, mordente reto despera.” As Morio continued with the incantation, I took up the counter-rhythm.

“Go to peace, go to rest, go to slumber, go to your ancestors, go to the dark depths of the world and let go your body, go back to the realm from which you came, disperse on the wind, disperse on the rain, disperse to the flames, disperse to the soil—”

The goshanti screamed as she woke fully. She reared up, still on the astral, staring at me with hatred and lust. But her powers were wavering. We were making an impact.

“Mordente reto, mordente reto, mordente reto despera,” Morio commanded, forcing the energy through me at a tremendous rate, so fast and hard that I could barely stand against the astral tidal wave crashing through my body.