The Problem With Black Magic
***
After pacing the room for two hours, failing to come up with any plan of escape, Cassie was starting to wonder if maybe giving up and staying in London wouldn’t be so bad; at least she would be treated well, and hell, whoever Rosa was, she made good coffee.
Whatever limited appeal that plan had disintegrated when she remembered that she wasn’t staying with Cordley permanently; whoever the court picked to train her, she could be pretty sure he wouldn’t be as accommodating. In fact, they’d probably stick her with a European version of Nathaniel— or worse, Graellen. The very thought of it turned her stomach.
Don’t waste time thinking about it, she scolded herself, knocking herself on the head gently with her fist, I have to get away. No system is perfect, that’s what Mike says, and he’s right.
She sat on the bed and pulled Sam’s jacket tighter around herself; it was swimming on her, but somehow, she found the reminder of his size comforting.
What did she have? She couldn’t count on her mental link with Sam, the amulet blocked that and after spending half an hour trying to take the thing off, she was done playing with it. Her brain just wouldn’t comply when she tried to lift it over her head. Trying to physically escape from the building would be pointless; she would have no idea where she was going, and Cordley probably had people watching his house just in case. He was too meticulous to leave her unguarded. Until she had a plan, preferably a good one, she was better off staying in the house.
She had magic, but she didn’t know how to use it. If she was a trained witch, escaping from this situation would probably be child’s play, but she didn’t know that for sure. She didn’t even know what she could theoretically do with magic, besides heal people. She was slightly furious with Sam for being so tight-lipped all the time; a little bit of knowledge could have gone a long way here.
Still, everybody kept telling her she had so much latent power it was ridiculous, and that had to count for something. If there was any way out of this situation, it would have to take advantage of that.
Okay, so I have a lot of latent magic that I don’t know how to use. What can I do with it…aside from get a lot of demons really excited?
She put her head between her knees, feeling exhausted despite getting twelve hours of sleep; it seemed like the only thing her power was good for was attracting demons….
Wait, attracting demons? What do I know about attracting demons?
Suddenly, she remembered the night she’d brought Sam to her house— the night he’d cast the spell that had killed and dismembered two of her would-be captors.
“I thought you had to say incantations and draw symbols in the dirt and stuff,” she asked.
Sam fixed her with a sad smile. “That’s what people who summon demons need to do— and I’m already here, aren’t I?”
Summoned. Sam could be summoned, he’d as much as said so himself.
Her heart started to race as a plan came together; sure, she might not be able to use her magic for much, but it was still a part of her— in her body, and in her blood. They had said the amulet had cut her psychic link with Sam, but they had never said it did anything else to their bond. If she tried to summon a demon she was already bonded to— through the power of her blood— it might just be enough.
Or it might do nothing but make a mess on the carpet, but any chance of success was better than none.
Frantic, she looked around the room for something to cut herself with. Unsurprisingly, Cordley’s daughter’s room was a little light on steak knives and other cutting implements. Finally, she picked up a paperback book and began running the edges of the paper over her fingers. It was surprisingly hard to give yourself a papercut the one time you wanted to.
Finally, after what felt like hours, she let out an embarrassing squeak of pain as she drew blood. With a smile that she was sure looked deranged, she squeezed the blood out of her finger and onto the carpet, drawing a loose circle; when her middle finger wouldn’t give up any more blood, she started working on cutting her index finger. Slowly but surely, she would get enough blood to draw a complete circle.
Growing tired of forcing the paper cuts, she rifled through the girl’s room again and made a small sound of triumph when she found a jewelry box full of earrings. Taking out a sterling silver post earring, she pricked her fingertips, producing blood at a much faster rate than the papercut method. When her hands started to feel like pincushions, she moved on to her forearms.
She wasn’t sure how long it took, though she knew the sun went down at some point during her efforts, and she lost track of how many pinpricks and cuts she gave herself, but eventually, she had a complete circle. She wasn’t sure what to do for the arcane symbols, but there wasn’t much she could do about it; she scrawled some figures in the blood that looked vaguely Hebraic, and hoped for the best. She was hoping the intent counted for more than the details here.
Feeling a little woozy, she stood and looked at her circle; it was messy, but it looked vaguely like the kinds of magic circles she’d seen in movies and anime, so that was something. Furthermore, it was right next to the bookshelf, so if she made a mistake and summoned some frightening hellspawn instead of Sam, maybe the thing would be too distracted by Cordley’s daughter’s collection of Gossip Girl paperbacks to attack her.
Okay, clearly the blood loss is making me delirious; time to do this thing.
She cleared her throat, not sure if she should use her own voice or try to sound more formidable. She could put on a deeper, more sultry voice, but would that really be more likely to attract Sam? Probably not.
She knelt before the circle; it seemed like the best pose. “I, Cassie Tremblay, familiar of Sam, um, Sammael, bonded to him VERY STRONGLY, I might add— do invoke the er, power of this circle, to summon him here. To me; to my side.”
Nothing happened. Maybe she had to make it rhyme?
“Oh Sammael…you’re pale? Come to me, over the sea? This is…beyond stupid….”
Dammit, all she wanted to do was use the latent power of her blood to cause a supernatural being to materialize from the ether at her side— what was the hold up?
Nearly crying with frustration, she decided to yell; what did she have to lose?
“Sammael, get over here! I summon you- thee! Sammael, I SUMMON THEE!!!!”
Before she was finished screaming, she felt the floor shaking below her; either London was becoming a seismic hotspot, or she had succeeded, for better or for worse. As smoke filled the room, obscuring her vision of even the circle before her, she closed her eyes and prayed to whoever might listen that she hadn’t screwed this up.