The Vaga Read online

  Isis.

  ‘Is Uncle Jo alright? Did I hurt anybody?’ My mind was inflicting all sorts of cruel images onto me of what I could have done, or more accurately, what Isis could have done. Magi stirs from her sleep beside me, lifting her head off her paws and watching us both with interest.

  Ama pats my hand in reassurance. ‘Everyone is fine. Nobody was hurt. Although we do need to have a serious talk about this.’

  I push myself up straighter against my headboard and whisper a healing spell, my head instantly feeling better.

  Ama sees the improvement and a slight smile pinches the corners of her mouth. ‘Ah, it’s good to be a witch,’ she says with fondness.

  I smile half-heartedly, knowing how much she loves everything about being a witch. Usually when we get onto the topic of Witch Lore and the Craft, Ama reminisces about the old ways and how she revelled in the nature of magic in its truest form, having learnt from the generations of witches before her.

  But right now everything has taken on a dull lustre within me. I feel laden down with a range of emotions that threaten to break me open from my core. For the first time in a long time I don’t want to be a witch, in fact, I was resenting it.

  I cross my arms. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’

  Ama reaches out to stroke my face. ‘Ah, Shem. I know you are in pain right now,’ her hand falls away softly, ‘but you need to listen to what I have to say.’

  My body relaxes as I realise that my anger is what got me into trouble in the first place. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I know I’ve told you that there was always a chance that Isis’ power could override yours, and over the years you have maintained immense strength in being able to keep her magic locked away safely. But now it has happened, and I fear that it will happen again if we don’t do something about it.’

  She has my full attention now. ‘What do you mean?’

  She moves her index finger towards my face, my eyes going cross-eyed as I watch it move ever closer. I feel a tiny buzz where her finger positions itself on my third eye. ‘Amnakara to leeme, bandura fantada ra. Zira mae kina, domera nee tofa.’

  Isis’ spirit stops stirring within me, and for the first time in many years she is silent. A sense of peace that is so overwhelming washes over me and I feel a tear make its way down my cheek.

  ‘Ama, what did you just do?’

  She withdraws her finger and wipes away the tear, her green eyes shining with love, and at the same time, concern. ‘It won’t last long, sweetheart.’ She stands up and walks the length of the room before resuming her explanation. ‘The spell I just cast is from The Book of the Dead.’

  The Book of the Dead—an ancient collection of papyrus scrolls written by priests and mystics, containing spells and rituals dating back to Ancient Egypt in the time of the Old Kingdom. These spells were written and performed to assist the dead to move through the Duat—or underworld—and into the afterlife safely with their soul intact.

  She stops at the foot of my bed and turns to face me, one hand fiddling with her amethyst crystal necklace. I’m about to ask her something, but she silences me. ‘No, Elena, let me get this out quickly.’ She looks over her left shoulder into nothingness, as if she is seeing something I cannot. She lowers her voice, pulling something out of the folds of her dress and passing it to me. ‘Hide this quickly.’

  I take the bound pages of parchment and hide them amongst my bed covers, nervous energy flitting around me like tiny fireflies. What the hell is going on?

  ‘This is a special scroll. You mustn’t let anyone else see this. Promise me?’ Her tone is desperate.

  I nod in response.

  ‘Good. Within those pages contains Isis’ own spells and rituals that she used solely for herself. They are very unique to her spirit and have been held under lock and key for centuries on The Other Side. The spell I just cast on you is called The Mind. It is a silencing spell used to calm her magic so she could have peace at times when her world became too much. It acts as a sleeping agent of sorts.’

  ‘How did you get this?’ I whisper in disbelief.

  ‘Never mind that.’ She flips her hand. ‘Read this and learn the spells. They may help you while all this is going on. But read them before she wakes up. If she knows you are using these spells she could get upset, and we know what that could mean.’ Her eyes convey her warning.

  I lean forward. ‘No, Ama, that’s the problem. Right now I don’t know what that means. Why am I having to battle Isis like she’s my enemy? Why did she threaten Uncle Jo? Aren’t we all supposed to be on the same side here?’

  Her face softens as she moves to sit back down next to me. ‘Of course we are, Shem. But you have to understand that her essence combined with yours is a powerful concoction that none of us have seen before. Her magic feeds you, your magic feeds hers, and we cannot know what it is going to do. It’s why you struggle against it so much. You are very important to her, and not just because of how strong you are as a witch, but also because you represent a spiritual movement of global proportion. In her own way, she is just trying to make sure that happens. She believes in it so blindly.’ She places her hand on my leg and gives it a reassuring squeeze. ‘You must know that she would not harm your uncle. She does not have the power to influence your body to harm another. Her magic will only serve you at your command, so please don’t worry about that.’

  Her words provide me with temporary relief.

  ‘But the one thing I do know, with absolute certainty, is that when your child is born she will be the most beautiful soul that has ever walked the earth.’ She smiles warmly and pats my leg.

  A sudden rush of love and fierce protective instincts flows through me, but there is also fear. I lower my gaze.

  ‘But that is what scares me, Ama. My dream of having children was always a distant thought. I didn’t plan on bringing anyone into this world knowing that they wouldn’t live a long life. Now that I have agreed to bear a child, I want them to live a normal life. I want them to make their own choices and fulfill their own dreams, with a soul that is unique to them. I don’t want them to have to live to serve a purpose. I want them to be free.’ My voice cracks.

  ‘Shem, is that what you think? That this child won’t have their own soul?’

  I nod, my eyes falling to my lap.

  She grabs my hand and looks over her shoulder again before lowering her voice even further. ‘Your child will have their own soul, Elena. Look at me child.’ I raise my face to hers. ‘They will be their own person, the only difference is that they will also possess a part of Isis’ magic as well. The combination of yours, Julian’s, and Isis’ blood is what will make her so unique.’

  ‘But I thought—’

  ‘I know what you thought, but you were wrong,’ Ama cuts me off abruptly. ‘What you haven’t been told is that the amount of power passed on is still up to you.’

  I’m shocked at her words. ‘What?! How didn’t I know this?’

  I thought my child would be solely infused with Isis’ soul, that she wouldn’t be her own person. Now Ama is telling me that she will have her own soul and that I can control the amount of Isis’ essence within her.

  A sparkle of hope begins to flare within me.

  ‘I’ve only just discovered this information myself.’ Her eyes fall to my lap and the parchment hidden underneath. ‘Those pages contain the answers you seek, Elena. But you must keep them to yourself.’ She closes her eyes and inhales deeply before turning sharply to something behind her. ‘They’re coming,’ she says, withdrawing her hand from mine.

  She moves towards me so swiftly that it feels like a sudden gust of wind has brushed past my ear and as she does I hear her whispered words.

  ‘The relinquishing spell.’

  And then she is gone.

  I sit there for a moment, staring blankly at my hands. A relinquishing spell? What does she mean? And what scared her off so quickly? Is Ama in danger because of the parchment she gave me?

  The parchme
nt.

  I carefully peel back the bed covers to reveal the ancient scroll, its brittle pages containing hundreds of years of history nestled within my lap. My fingers tremble as I unravel the contents, making sure that Isis is still silent within me before opening the first page.

  Hieroglyphics swarm my vision. You didn’t tell me I had to translate, Ama. Luckily for me it is another area Uncle Jo and I studied over the years. Together we learnt how to read Egyptian hieroglyphs, ancient scripture, and drawings. We knew we would need those skills in relation to what was going to happen in the future.

  Remembering those times now causes my chest to swell. Uncle Jo has sacrificed everything for me, and all I’ve been doing lately is getting upset with him. Now that Isis is silent, I realise how much she was affecting my emotions in a negative way, and it makes me feel remorse for how I’ve been behaving.

  I look at my bedside clock and see that it is nearly four o’clock in the morning. It won’t be long before Uncle Jo will be up, his days as a dairy farmer still affecting his internal clock. I promise to apologise to him as soon as time allows, but in the meantime I need to learn and memorise the spells I hold within my hands before Isis resurfaces.

  I start to read them one by one, taking in their purpose and meaning, committing them to memory with an ironclad determination.

  Chapter 7

  An hour passes before I feel Isis stir. As soon as her magic starts to tingle through me I hide the parchment of nine spells inside The Book of Cole for safe keeping, locking it away in the enchanted wooden chest that sits at the foot of my bed. My heart is beating wildly at what I’ve discovered, but I push all thoughts from my mind, keeping them hidden until I need to call on them.

  I get out of bed, putting on jeans and a t-shirt and grabbing my shawl off the bedpost as I go, wrapping it around my shoulders to ward off the chill that is making its way up through the old floorboards and into my bare feet. As I make my way out into the hallway, I can hear Uncle Jo stirring his morning coffee in the kitchen.

  His eyes, filled with sadness and doubt, glance my way as I enter, and then they return swiftly to the steaming mug before him. My stomach churns with guilt.

  Wrapping my arms tighter around myself I say, ‘Uncle Jo?’

  Keeping his back to me he murmurs, ‘Mmm?’

  I take a few steps towards him. ‘Can we talk?’

  He stops stirring his coffee and hangs his head, both hands now leaning against the benchtop. After what feels like a painful few minutes he slowly turns towards me and my breath catches in my throat as I take in his deflated aura. His hand gestures towards the round dining table in the centre of the kitchen and we take a seat in silence.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I blurt out, unsure of how to start the conversation.

  He blows on his coffee. ‘I know you are.’

  My fingers nervously fiddle with the tassels of my shawl. ‘I didn’t know that would happen. I’ve been trying hard not to let Isis out, but my emotions…they got the better of me.’

  He lets out a weary sigh, running his fingers through his greying hair. ‘I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. That is something I never wanted to do.’ He reaches across the table and places his hand on mine, his hazel eyes finally clearing from the sadness they held only moments ago. ‘I would never want to hurt you, Ellie. I love you too much for that.’

  Blinking back tears I say, ‘I love you too.’ He reaches across the table and pulls me into a hug, crushing my ribs in the process. We gently part and I notice that a sadness still lingers within him. ‘What is it?’

  He unconsciously starts twisting his wedding ring around his finger. ‘Isis said things, things that can’t be undone.’ He turns his eyes towards me. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you or Lil. I can’t lose either of you, I just can’t.’

  I reach across the table and grab his hand. ‘I won’t let that happen. I promise.’

  He nods, and after taking another sip of his coffee he says, ‘So what did Ama have to say?’

  ‘How did you…? Never mind,’ I reply, knowing that he possesses supersonic hearing. ‘She just wanted to pass on some information, that’s all.’ Remembering her words of warning, I don’t reveal the spells she gave me. Instead, I tell him about the rest of the conversation, making sure to leave out the discovery of the relinquishing spell, just in case Isis was listening.

  He rubs his chin in thought. ‘So would it be fair to suggest that maybe instead of fighting Isis, you find a way to embrace her instead?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He shrugs. ‘Well it seems to me that Ama was saying that the reason this struggle goes on inside of you is because you are actually the one creating the battle in the first place.’

  I think about what he’s just said. It would make sense. My fear of losing myself in her magic is what’s causing the resistance within me. Maybe if I just let my magic merge with hers then the struggle will stop? Ama did say that Isis could not influence my body without my permission, so why have I been giving her so much power over me?

  ‘You’re right. I’ve been giving Isis way too much credit. My resistance is not helping me at all. It’s time I took control back.’ Saying those words fills me with renewed strength.

  He nods and is about to say something, but Magi’s low growl interrupts us. I swivel my head around to see Magi standing in the doorway to the kitchen, hackles raised and a snarl coming from deep within her. Her amber eyes are glowing fiercely, staring straight past us and locked on the back door.

  Uncle Jo jumps out of his seat and reaches under the sink curtain, pulling out a rifle and cocking it before I’ve even risen from the chair. It always amazes me how swiftly he can move.

  ‘Ellie, get down to your aunt, now!’

  I stand up, magic coursing through me. ‘No, I won’t leave you.’

  ‘Please, Ellie. You must keep your aunt safe,’ he pleads, desperation lining his voice.

  Reluctantly I turn and run past Magi, heading down to the bedroom where Aunt Lily is still sleeping. I push open the door with force and the noise startles her from her sleep. ‘Ellie, what is it? What’s wrong?’ She gets out of bed hurriedly and says, ‘Where’s Jo?’

  I stride across the room and check the window, making sure it’s locked. Grabbing her hand I say, ‘We have to get out of here.’

  She plants her feet. ‘Ellie, where is Jo?’ she says more firmly, her hands latching onto my arms.

  ‘He’s outside with Magi. Please, Aunt Lily, he pleaded with me to get you out of here. We have to go.’

  Her head moves towards the window. ‘No. I’m not going.’

  I close my eyes. ‘Please don’t make me do this.’

  She raises her chin and crosses her arms defiantly, her blue eyes radiating a fierceness that I haven’t seen before. ‘If you teleport me out I will never forgive you.’

  Her words shock me, but I know in the same situation I would say the same thing. ‘Alright, but I need to hide you at least, okay?’

  She nods her head and we quickly make our way to the hallway linen cupboard, where a secret panel inside it opens a door to an old wine cellar that lies beneath the ground. I press the latch and the wall opens up, triggering a faint light that illuminates the short stairwell. I move aside for Aunt Lily to make her descent.

  She looks down and hesitates on the landing, clasping my hand as she does. ‘Keep yourselves safe. Trust yourself, Ellie.’ She squeezes my hand before disappearing down the stairs.

  I race back towards the kitchen, but I know before I even get there that Uncle and Magi have taken off after the sound.

  Why didn’t they stay in the warding?

  Without pausing to put on my shoes, I rush out the back door and into the faint light of the coming dawn. I try and connect with Magi but she doesn’t answer me. Where are you, Mags?

  I look out across the yard, towards the woodland in the distance, and search the terrain for any sign of them. My eyes roam the a
rea, hoping to zoom in on their whereabouts, but then a faint sound, similar to a wolf’s cry, echoes out from the dawn-filled emptiness off to my right and my eyes are directed towards the parkland.

  I leap down the porch steps and onto the dewy grass before taking off across the yard towards the sound. My legs hurdle the hedges with ease, the adrenaline driving me forward, across the warding, and into a potentially dangerous situation. Uncle Jo would be screaming at me to get back in the house and stay within the safety of the warding, but all I can think about is getting to them.

  Within seconds my instincts veer me off the campus path and I find myself running towards the Royal Marx Museum, situated off Emery Rd and Norton Ave, adjacent to the parklands of the college. From this distance the bright lights of the museum highlight the current exhibition “Cairo Under Wraps” and I roll my eyes at the irony, spurring my legs forward until my feet reach the massive glass entry doors of the iconic building.

  Panting heavily, I place my hands against the glass, my warm breath leaving a ghostly mist on the surface. My eyes search the inside for any sign that this is where the sound was coming from, but all I see are statues and dark outlines of artifacts and exhibition pieces standing lifeless within the expansive interior.

  Mags, can you hear me? A brief fracture of an image of the inside of the building slices through my mind and I race past the entrance, around to the side of the museum where the alleyway is cast in an eerie glow between the two massive buildings that engulf it. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise as I slow down to a walk, keeping alert to any movement.

  A rattling sound coming from a nearby trash can causes me to jump, and my hands charge as I wait for the culprit to emerge. A caramel-coloured cat pops its dirty head out of the trash can, a remnant of what was once a subway sandwich firmly embedded in its mouth.

  ‘Stupid cat,’ I whisper angrily, shooing it with my hand. The cat jumps out of its feeding pit, gives me a look of complete disdain, and makes its way through a hole in the bottom of the neighbouring fence.