Chapter 7

Chapter 7

T hat afternoon, Gwyneth wasted no time in picking up where we’d left off. She drew a long stick from a box on the worktable. Its tip was pointed, and there was a knob at the base. Halfway up the length the wood bent crisply to the left.

“Is that a—” I began, my eyes darting back to the box of sticks.

“Wand.” Gwyneth held it out for me to admire. “James Proctor fashioned it from an oak branch found in the Ravens’ Wood. It’s exactly eleven inches from base to tip and the top half is bent at an eleven-degree angle. Perfect for higher magic.”

My worst nightmare came to life. Unlike the humble branch of the craft, higher magic was filled with rituals and props familiar to fans of television and film. I feared crystal balls would be next.

“As you know, magic has two branches: the craft and elemental magic.” Gwyneth’s tone was brisk and direct, the pitch and cadence those of an experienced teacher who knew how to snare my wandering attention and bring it back to the subject. “Both the craft and elemental magic have higher, more potent expressions. For elemental magic it’s knotting spells—what you call weaving. For the craft, it’s higher magic—what the ignorant call dark magic.”

Gwyneth made it sound as though dark magic was a superstitious illusion, not a real threat. But I had been on the receiving end of it and disagreed. I frowned.

“All branches of magic have elements of darkness in them that can be exploited for personal gain,” Gwyneth said, noting my skepticism. “But it’s the witch, not the magic, that’s at fault. Let me explain.”

My aunt directed her wand toward the center of the room. With a twist of her wrist a canvas unrolled from the rafters. I wondered what kind of concealment spell had been used to cloak its presence, for it hadn’t been visible before.

“Abracadabra! One of the world’s first PowerPoint slides.” Gwyneth’s lips curved into a smile. “This should help you understand the relationship between Light, Darkness, and the Shadow that lies between.”

Someone had painted the power of higher magic on the canvas in a swirling nineteenth-century copperplate. Underneath the title was a Venn diagram of three circles arranged in a horizontal line, rather than the traditional pyramid shape. One circle was black. One was white. In the center, a gray circle lay across portions of the black and white orbs.

Gwyneth directed the tip of her wand toward the gray circle. It floated off the canvas. I blinked, thinking it was an optical illusion produced by staring at a black-and-white image too long. When my eyes opened, however, the gray circle was suspended before me. No longer two-dimensional, it had become a sphere of mist. A dark storm burst forth in one hemisphere, followed by a brightening streak in the other. Swirls of charcoal snaked through it, darker veins of pulsating power.

“Higher magic resides here, in the depths of Shadow,” Gwyneth said.

I reached out to touch the misty sphere, wanting to know this grayness better. A fraction of an inch before my fingertip touched the orb’s surface, I hesitated.

Higher magic is dangerous. Sarah’s voice echoed through my memories. Stay away from it, Diana. Although Sarah had softened her firm stance briefly, I had little doubt that she would be opposed to me exploring higher, darker magic with Gwyneth.

The orb of Shadow collapsed in on itself. What emerged in its place was a shimmering black globe. I glanced at the Venn diagram, where the flat gray circle was back in its place and there was only blank canvas where the black one had been.

In its three-dimensional form, the circle was no longer merely black. Sparks of rich midnight blue and aubergine glimmered in its inky center. Darkness seemed to absorb the light around it, growing thicker and more intense.

“You gave in to fear,” Gwyneth said. “Fear has no place in higher magic. It’s the crack through which Darkness enters a witch’s soul. Once it takes root, it’s difficult to weed it out.”

How could I not be afraid? Coming so close to pure Darkness went against everything I had been taught. Gwyneth would have to find another way to teach me about higher magic. If she refused, I would go back to New Haven.

The black orb swelled with satisfaction.

“Now you’ve given in to anger.” Gwyneth went to the stove and calmly poured two fresh cups of tea. “Anger and fear live in Shadow, and you must face them every day if you want to practice higher magic.”

Who wanted fear and rage to be their constant companions? I wanted life to be light and hopeful, filled with my children’s laughter and Matthew’s love. I wanted to be consumed with passion for my work and make a difference through my teaching.

“And if I don’t?” I snapped.

“Then Darkness wins,” Gwyneth replied.

Dissatisfied, I drew on previous tactics that I’d used against dark adversaries. I summoned a handful of witchfire and threw it straight at the murky round. Darkness had chosen the wrong witch. I wouldn’t let it best me.

My witchfire shot toward the black orb, a flaming meteor approaching a dark sun. The flames glowed orange when they hit the sphere’s surface. They turned a venomous green as Darkness latched onto their Light, creating a cancerous bump on the surface that hissed and shot malevolent sparks into the air until the flames went out.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Gwyneth put a mug of tea before me and lifted her own to her lips. She was behaving as though we were at a tea party rather than waging an existential battle with evil.

The inky sphere grew again, surpassing its former size. Its edges were jagged, forming tendrils that reached out in all directions. My mouth filled with bitterness.

“You can’t attack Darkness with Light,” Gwyneth said. “All you’ve done is increased its hunger.”

“Of course you can,” I shot back, swatting at a creeping black vine that was making its way toward my tea. “Everybody knows that.”

This tenet was central to the plot of every book I read to the twins at night.

“Light isn’t a weapon, Diana. It’s a resource.” Gwyneth cupped her palm as though she held a baby chick. “You want to hold it gently, not turn it into a missile.”

Darkness inched closer.

I stepped back, hoping to put distance between me and the black vines.

Darkness kept coming towardme.

Maybe I could make a run for it and escape into the sunshine of the meadow. It was an inhospitable place for Darkness, caught between sea and sky. I was headed for the exit when Gwyneth put an end to my escape plans.

“Stop. Immediately.” Gwyneth gestured toward the open barn door, and it slid shut with a bang. “You can’t outrun Darkness, either, Diana. If you try, it will follow you into the world and contaminate everything it touches.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I was in a panic, my breath rapid.

You must stand firm, daughter. Granny Dorcas heaved herself out of the rocker. She put her hands on her hips and marched toward the Darkness, her elf lock swinging and rusty black skirts swishing around her ankles. Look it in the eye and don’t flinch. Darkness has a low cunning, and you must not allow it to slip past your defenses.

“My defenses?” I laughed, and the bitter taste returned. “I have no defenses, Granny Dorcas. I know no curses, or spells to turn the tide. My wards are weak at best.”

“Think about the people you love, the satisfaction you feel when one of your students achieves a new level of understanding, the curiosity that drives your research,” Gwyneth said, ticking off other options. “Draw on these feelings. Be specific. Your secret desires are your real weapons—not a bolt of fire or a spell.”

It sounded simple, almost Pollyannaish.

You’ll find it’s fiendishly difficult, my girl, looking on the bright side morning, noon, and night. Dorcas paced back and forth in front of Darkness with her hands clasped behind her back, giving it a basilisk stare while she did so. It drove me mad.

I closed my eyes and focused on Matthew’s lopsided smile and the spark in his eyes when I walked into a room. I recalled the night we met, and the night the children were born. I envisioned Becca and Pip, playing in the backyard and fighting imaginary battles with monsters and wizards. I conjured up the sensation of wonder I’d had in the Bodleian when I cracked open the cover on Ashmole 782.

The black ball shrank, frightened—though of what, I couldn’t imagine.

“What are you afraid of?” I whispered to Darkness.

Darkness answered with a pop and a fizzle as it slowly disintegrated, only to reappear on the canvas where it belonged.

“Well done, Diana.” Gwyneth beamed with satisfaction. “Curiosity and wonder are often all it takes to keep Darkness at bay. They, too, reside in Shadow, where promise and potential disaster can be found in equal measure. It was that ambiguity that really terrified your father.”

Black and white, good and evil, right and wrong. Dorcas was agitated and continued her pacing even though Darkness had been put back in its place—for now.

“It’s so tempting to pick sides, so difficult to center oneself in the in-betweenness of higher magic, caught betwixt here and there, perpetually at a crossroads, needing to choose the best path, knowing it might be treacherous and steep.” Gwyneth’s tone was somber. “Stephen couldn’t bear the uncertainty, or watching Naomi make one mistake, then another.”

“ You are a child of the crossroads, ” I whispered, repeating the words that Bridget Bishop had uttered to me years ago, “ a child between, a witch apart. ” I’d had a choice to make then, too—one involving Matthew and our future life together. I had put my feet irrevocably on the road forward that had him in it—even though everything I’d been taught about creatures screamed that I was making a mistake—and never looked back.

’Tis a dangerous place to be, Dorcas said.

“But a witch is not without guidance on the Dark Path,” Gwyneth said. “Isn’t that right, Granny Dorcas?”

Granny Dorcas nodded and reached into her skirts. She drew a knobbly lump of cloth from the folds. The parcel looked as though it contained mad frogs, their joints poking against the fabric in spiky points as they tried to escape confinement.

A warm hum like a bumblebee filled the side pocket of my leggings. I’d slipped The Dark Path card in there along with my phone when I left the farmhouse.

Granny Dorcas put the rectangular bundle before me on the table. These belong to you now.

I touched the homespun enclosure, and the contents of the parcel sprang out. Cards danced in the air before me, delighted to be free. In my pocket, the bumblebee sensation intensified into an agitated swarm.

“The cards will keep doing that until you reunite them,” Gwyneth said. “Oracles are very sensitive, and if one of their cards is missing they won’t rest until it’s found.”

I reached into my pocket and The Dark Path leaped out to join her sister cards. Their swirling and twirling grew more animated as they were overtaken with the joy of reunion. They slowed and fell to the table, just as Gwyneth’s had done in the parlor of the Old Place. When they came to rest, six cards snaked over the worn wooden surface in a vertical, wiggly line, leaving the rest of the cards gathered into a tight stack.

“Ah. The Dark Path spread.” Gwyneth smiled with satisfaction. “I knew there had to be a reason why the black bird oracle selected that particular card to send on to New Haven.”

It was an omen. Granny Dorcas tapped the card closest to me. The Book. You were embarking on a journey that would bring you great knowledge and success.

I was glad to hear that the signs surrounding my forestalled trip to Oxford were auspicious.

The Owl Queen changed all that. Granny Dorcas’s words flattened my sails. You have knowledge, but you need wisdom—and change.

Gwyneth nodded and made a note on a nearby pad. “Female wisdom, and an initiation into the higher mysteries.”

“I thought oracles only spoke in answer to a question,” I said, eager to find a reason to ignore this last message.

“A witch’s life is filled with questions,” Gwyneth said. “When you touched the cards, some inquiring thought was doubtless going through your mind. Often the queries we don’t utter are the most important, and the most profound.”

And this spread only appears when a witch is questioning her next step, Granny Dorcas said.

“I know my next step,” I retorted. “I came to Ravenswood to see if Gwyneth knew anything about the Congregation’s intention to examine Becca and Pip. Now I know why they sent their letter—because of the history of Proctor twins and higher magic. As soon as I can, I’m going back to my family in New Haven.”

Family! You can’t think straight with them all squawking around you. Granny Dorcas held up the card that bore the image of a group of birds gathered in conversation. Too many opinions obscure your path.

I glanced at the next card: The Skeleton. If that was what awaited me, I preferred to remain where I was.

You must use your intuition to find your way, daughter, Dorcas said. Seemingly worthless signs will light your path. There are new possibilities waiting for you—but only if you become one with Shadow.

“Blood.” Gwyneth pointed to the fifth card of the spread. “It always signifies a sacrifice of some kind. Dorcas is right, Diana. It won’t be easy, but you must stop clinging to the Light, and embrace your desire for Darkness.”

Push and pull. Here and there, Granny Dorcas murmured. Blood and A Parliament of Owls in the same reading foretells contention and strife.

The Dark Path was the final card laid out on the table.

After you take your first step on the Dark Path, all will become clearer, Granny Dorcas promised.

“Fascinating,” Gwyneth said. “The black bird oracle never disappoints, Granny Dorcas.”

My mam’s family always relied on birds for their auguries, Granny Dorcas replied. When we came to Ipswich, there were owls and ravens, vultures and herons, all of them black, or white, or gray—the colors of Darkness, Light, and Shadow. It was a sign that we were on the right path.

I fanned through the deck, locating The Owl Queen, The Raven Queen, The Heron Queen, and The Queen of Vultures.

“Couldn’t you consult the birds directly?” I asked, wondering why the cards had been necessary, given the number of avian species in this part of Massachusetts.

I was confined to that stinking jail for thirteen months, Granny Dorcas retorted, unable to wander the marshes and woods in search of guidance. When I got out, my body was feeble, and I made the cards you hold in your hands so the birds could always be with me. The Queen of Vultures uncovered many secrets that might have caused me harm. The Owl Queen was at my side when I required deeper wisdom. When prophesying and consulting the ancestors, I spoke to the Heron Queen and the Raven Queen.

It was ravens who had brought their message to Becca.

“Did you send the ravens to New Haven, Granny Dorcas?”

Only the goddess has such power, Granny Dorcas replied. I sent the card—though Gwynie had to help me get it to you.

I sifted through the deck. While there was a raven prince as well as a queen—and princes of vultures, owls, and herons, too—most of the cards had little to do with birds. The five elements, magical equipment such as cauldrons, and alchemical substances and processes were represented as well.

“What do they all mean?” I had never been a student of tarot, and refused to let Em read my cards, though she had been eager to doso.

“Only you can know for sure,” Gwyneth said.

“There must be a guidebook.” Every deck in Sarah’s Madison shop, Be Blessed, came with an accompanying booklet that laid out their meanings along with recommended spreads.

“There isn’t one.” Gwyneth blinked, solemn as the members of A Parliament of Owls. “Every oracle deck in the barn was made by one of our ancestors, according to their own inner mythology and magical talents. Granny Dorcas can share the meanings the cards had for her, but you’ll have to figure out what the cards mean for you.”

To do that, you’ll have to venture deeper into Shadow, said Granny Dorcas. I don’t have time to hold your hand, child. You must do the work yourself.

“And if I do choose the Dark Path of higher magic, will I be able to keep Darkness away from my children?” I asked, blunt and to the point.

“You cannot prevent Darkness from touching the lives of others. Everyone must find a way to do that for themselves, no matter what type of creature they are,” Gwyneth said with a touch of regret.

The cards winked at me. Did I have the courage to face my own Shadow, and walk in my mother’s footsteps? Could I leave a trail for my children to follow so that they would not be lost in the dark, as I had been?

See what the cards say about the choice before you, Granny Dorcas suggested.

I gathered the black bird oracle cards and shuffled them again, focusing on which path I should take going forward. A card quickly rose from the deck as though it had been eagerly awaiting my call: The Dark Path. Then another, depicting a weeping woman standing at a crossroads with a castle in the distance: The Crossroads. Finally, the corner of The Labyrinth card emerged with its twists and turns and a tiny figure standing in the center.

Well, well, Granny Dorcas said.

“Stars and moons.” Gwyneth’s mouth widened into an O of amazement.

The goddess wants you to proceed on the Dark Path through all three levels of higher magic, Granny Dorcas said, puffing on her pipe. Bad things happen to witches who turn their back on the Dark Path when it opens before them.

I was more worried about the consequences that might befall me if I continued. Gwyneth’s next words gave me a more immediate cause for concern.

“Given the black bird oracle revealed its mysteries to you today, I’m obligated to notify the coven’s chair of divination and prophecy.”

I made a sound of protest. My aunt raised her hands to silenceme.

“It must be, Diana. And you have nothing to fear from Katrina,” Gwyneth said. “Goody Wu is a great seer, with an open heart, a curious mind, and decades of experience. She’s trained oracles from all over the world.”

But I was not sure I wanted to be among her acolytes. The specters of Naomi, Mom, and Em haunted me—all victims of higher magic.

“You aren’t Naomi.” Gwyneth’s bright blue eyes locked on mine. “Nor are you Rebecca Bishop. You are not Dorcas, or Emily, either. You are the latest in a long line of Proctor oracles, but your path is your own.”

“The cards are the oracle—not me.” My response was quick.

“Without a seer to interpret them, the black bird oracle is nothing more than a deck of cards,” Gwyneth replied.

The black bird oracle has chosen to speak through you, girl. Granny Dorcas beetled her brows in warning. Turn a deaf ear to it at your peril.

—

I dreaded having to call Matthew again, but between the Proctor family tree and Dorcas’s oracle cards, I was not yet finished at Ravenswood.

When I told him about the illuminated scroll that showed my line of descent, Matthew was quick to express interest.

“I’d like to see it,” he said. “Before we knew about DNA and learned how to decipher the human genome in the laboratory, the passing down of bloodlines was captured in documents like yours.”

“I’m not sure you’ll be able to squeeze much more information from it,” I said. “The tree wasn’t the only Proctor relic I saw today, however. I met Dorcas Hoare.”

“Who’s that?” Matthew wondered.

“One of Salem’s accused witches,” I replied.

“You timewalked ?” Matthew was furious. “How could you? What if you were lost? What if—”

“Granny Dorcas is a ghost,” I said, trying to reassure him. “Proctor ghosts are different. They’re three-dimensional, and less smudgy than Bishop ghosts. They’re open to questions, too. When I saw her, I thought the old woman was a vagrant who’d wandered down the carriage road and into the barn.”

“Granny?”

“I’m her direct descendant,” I explained. “Tabitha Hoare married William Proctor. After that, twins and weavers appeared regularly in the Proctor line.”

As well as witches with a talent for higher, darker magic, my conscience whispered. I brushed the words aside.

“So that marriage was the crucial genetic moment,” Matthew said, thoughtful. “Perhaps I should come to Ipswich.”

“It’s not a good idea, Matthew,” I said firmly. “I’m on thin ice with the local witches, and Gwyneth and I are just starting to trust each other. I need to stay here and learn more about the black bird oracle.”

Matthew drew in a sharp breath. “Oracle?”

I told him about Granny Dorcas’s cards, and the guidance they could provide about events that were still to come.

“Knowing what the future might hold for the children—for us—could be important,” I said.

“Do you have reason to believe these oracle cards are accurate?” Matthew had been intrigued by the connection between traditional auguries—with which he was familiar from his earliest days—and Dorcas’s cards.

“Gwyneth and Dorcas are sure, and until they’re proven wrong…” I let my words trail off into silence.

Matthew sighed. “I can’t help but feel you’re going somewhere I can’t follow, mon coeur. Omens, family traditions, Proctor legends—there’s no place for me in them.”

Your path is your own. Gwyneth’s words echoed in my ears.

“But I trust your instincts,” he continued. “If you feel staying at Ravenswood is the right action to take, then of course you must remain where you are.”

“Thank you for understanding,” I said, relieved to have settled the matter. For now.

I was ready to say good night, but Matthew had more to say.

“Diana?”

“Yes?”

Matthew hesitated.

“You would tell me if there was reason for concern,” he said at last.

“Of course,” I said promptly. There was no reason for Matthew to worry about the Dark Path of higher magic, not before I took my first step downit.

He considered my reply. “Keep in touch tomorrow, and let me know how you are. I’ll do some research into Dorcas Hoare and her descendants, and see what I can discover myself.”

Matthew was no good to himself or others if he wasn’t hunting something down.

“Good night, mon coeur, ” he said, voice husky with longing. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”