Familiar

2. | Five of Pentacles

WHEN I REACHED the landing I caught a glimpse at my favorite person standing in a far corner.

"Uncle Callum!" I couldn't stop the smile breaking across my face at the sight of my favorite family member. He strode forward, meeting me halfway to envelope me in one of his famous bear hugs.

He swung me around before setting me down, grinning from ear to ear. "How fare thee this eve my dear?" Around us was the sound of murmurs from my other family members, some disproving.

"I'm better now uncle. I've been a little anxious all day." I felt a tad lighter at the confession, but the nerves were increasing as the minutes passed.

"Brother, time is drawing near and Odette still needs to take the brew." My father took hold of my elbow and guided me in the direction of the boudoir made up especially for rituals. I looked back to see Uncle Callum looking as equally proud as he was almost forlorn.

I didn't have time to dwell on that as a crystal goblet was pushed into my palms by my mother. She tipped the glass to my lips, encouraging me to drink it's contents. The slightly bittersweet liquid trickled down my throat and in my peripheral my entire family gathered around to bear witness. Their familiars quietly shifting and rustling their fur and feathers as if in anticipation as well.

My mother steered me into the circle that had been drawn carefully in chalk and salt. She pushed me onto my knees in front of a brass bowl surrounded with smaller dishes containing the ingredients needed to make the spell work.

My head began to get fuzzy and my stomach rolled with nausea. Unable to stop the contents rising up from my gut, I tried to stand and bolt to the nearest powder room. My mother and sister both held me down by my shoulders which forced me to vomit into the brass bowl. It wasn't much but the nausea increased until everything came up.

Elora took a white cotton cloth and wiped my mouth before covering the mess that I had ejected from my body. Both she and my mother stepped back and out of the circle as my father came forward. The Van Ness grimoire in his hands.

"Tonight and Morrows Dawn marks a Wiccans coming of age. For generations we have witnessed, and practiced this rite of passage brought on by our ancestors. And tonight, Odette will call upon our ancestors to receive what is most crucial for a Wiccan to hone her skills and focus her magic; her familiar." He began chanting in Latin, the cadence and string of words changing the atmosphere in the room. My family, one by one joined him, their voices increasing in volume and their bodies swaying in a synchronized rhythm.

With trembling fingers I began combining the ingredients in the order they were to go in, the stained cloth in the bowl becoming obscured by the powders and herbs. I took a deep breath, letting the chanting fall into a white noise as I picked up the vial of blood that had come from a bird of prey. It's significance important for a Van Ness; as such a bird was the first familiar for the first of our line.

I let three drops fall into the bowl then picked up the athamé. With an eerily steady hand, I sliced my palm open, deep enough to feel the rush of blood spring forth from the incision. Holding my hand over the bowl I waited until my blood covered what was it in it before wrapping my palm with a strip of papyrus.

As I finished wrapping my hand the chanting ceased, as if my family was one entity. My father stepped up to the line of the circle surrounding me and placed the grimoire in front of me. The old text held the summoning spell, the ink still dark and bold despite its many centuries of use.

My fingers tingled when I reached for the white votive and striking a single match I lit it. With one hand holding the candle in front of me, facing North, I brought the book closer. In a clear voice I repeated the old words of an ancient language, moving the candle to face South, then East and finally West as I read through the passage.