Isaiah
The Library was practically empty after breakfast on Sunday morning, despite the ball being almost twelve hours away. I hated to admit it, but Davie’s idea was a good one; we were going to have plenty of alone time to work on our circle. I had until seven to find some kind of edge.
Places Between was a rather flowery title, but the book was big and old, and looked promising. I heaved it off the shelf and made my way to a table.
I skimmed over the contents, looking for the most useful chapters. ENERGY AND REALITY, BOUNDARIES AND VEILS, CASTING CIRCLES, BUILDING PORTALS, OCCUPYING SEPARATE SPACE. It went on, getting less and less relevant to my needs. I checked the page number for the CASTING CIRCLES chapter and jumped there.
A properly cast magick circle is a place that exists between the worlds. It is from here the mage may work magick and ritual, drawing on the powers from one place and bringing them into the next. The circle, when made strong and with purpose, acts as a protective bubble and a containment unit for the energy raised.
I skimmed through the headings, looking for something I didn’t already know.
STRENGTHENING THE CIRCLE
Now we were getting somewhere.
The practitioner may increase the power of the circle by use of external objects. Combinations of beneficial crystals can be quite effective but the stones must be cleansed and charged to work together for this purpose.
One such combination is clear quartz and black tourmaline. The tourmaline anchors the practitioner to the present location, stabilizing and strengthening the circle on the Earth plane. The quartz then reaches out, expanding the energy to other planes. Quartz connects with external energies, lending their power to the circle being cast, where they are anchored and solidified by the tourmaline. Using the same specimens together for this dedicated purpose on a regular basis will increase their effectiveness.
An alternative to training separate stones to work together is to use tourmilated quartz, which combines these two crystals into a single stone. This crystal can be charged to be an effective circle enhancer, either when used as part…
I wondered if I could obtain and charge a tourmilated quartz in time for our scheduled practice that evening. I turned the page roughly, eager for more information.
…sigils to facilitate the process. One, in particular, is known as the Janus Key, and is considered by many to be the most effective of a limited few options.
I’d never heard of the Janus Key, but I knew sigils were magickal symbols, often created by combining the letters that spelled out your magickal goal into a stylized symbol.
I looked down at the pentacle dangling from its cord around my neck. The pentagram, or five-pointed star, was originally called the pentalpha by followers of Pythagoras, because it was created by combining five alphas, or A’s. We looked at the symbol today and saw a star, but when you knew to look for the A’s, they were right there, looking back at you.
I could find no such source or symbolism within this Janus Key sigil, because it wasn’t pictured. I flipped the heavy book over, opening it again from the back, and located the index. I jumped to the J section, then scanned the entries for Janus. There were more references to the Roman god Janus than there were to the symbol, but it did list the Janus Key on three pages. The first was the one I’d just read, the next was two pages later.
The Janus Key may be used in multiple ways. The Key may be worked into the ritual itself, drawn amongst the symbols of the working, or described in the air using a wand or ritual blade. Alternatively, the mage may wear the symbol upon his body, or place it at his feet, ideally both.
This sounded perfect, if I could just find a picture of the damned thing. I could draw two copies of this symbol, placing one in my pocket and the other on the ground. Or, rather, in the ground, since I didn’t plan to share any of this with Davie. I’d get to the designated spot early and bury the symbol at the center of where we’d be casting the circle. When it worked better than before, it would be because of my effort.
I turned to the final entry for the Janus Key and found an illustration. Sort of. The weathered rock in the blurry, black-and-white photo had something carved into it, presumably the Janus Key, but I couldn’t make out any detail. I slammed the book closed and sank back into my chair.
I allowed myself a minute or two to sulk, then got up and headed back for the stacks. I pulled armload after armload of books on advanced circle casting, but not a single one mentioned the symbol. I gave up after a dozen or so books and headed for the computers. The books in the OTA Library were old, but fortunately the technology was less so. I entered THE JANUS KEYinto the catalog search. The book I’d started with, Places Between, was listed, but not much else.
There was one book actually titled The Janus Key, but it had a bold, red OW next to the title, meaning it was shelved in the Old Wing. Only grad students were ever granted access to books in the Old Wing, and even that was rare. To a lowly apprentice student, like myself, a book located in the Old Wing may as well not even exist.
But not every single thing in the index of every single book could be in the catalog. An image of the Janus Key had to exist, somewhere in the Library.
And I had all day to find it.
Davie
An alternative to training separate stones to work together is to use tourmilated quartz, which combines these two crystals into a single stone. This crystal can be charged to be an effective circle enhancer, either when used as part…
I took a bite of my salad and turned the page.
…of the circle construction, or worn by the caster.
“Hey, Davie.”
I glanced up from the book. “Hi, Sofia.”
She sat down across from me with some sort of pasta on her tray. I hadn’t even bothered to look at the options today; I’d just grabbed soup and a salad and gone back to researching. I’d found what looked like the perfect book lying on a table in the Library, which was uncommon. Books were normally reshelved so fast I wondered if they were spelled to shelve themselves. Either way, this one had been right there waiting for me, and I’d chosen to take it as a sign.
“I know this look; you’re in cramming mode. I’m surprised you aren’t already getting ready for the ball.”
I looked up. “Don’t think I’m going to the ball.”
From the look on her face, you’d have thought I’d just announced I was from Mars. “Why?”
“I’m gonna be busy.”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “You are never too busy for a major social event.”
She wasn’t wrong. I sighed, closing the book. “Isaiah and I are going to practice our circle while everyone’s out of the way.”
“So, you’re not going to the ball, and you’re hanging out with Isaiah instead?” She was smirking now.
“Not like that, dipshit.”
“You sure? You two have been spending a lot of time together lately.”
“Working,” I clarified. “We’ve been working together. Because Markston is making us.”
“She isn’t making you skip the ball, though.”
“No, she’s not. But it’s the perfect time for us to get a good practice session in, when we won’t be disturbed or distracted. If all goes well, we’ll be done early, and maybe we’ll drop in on the ball late.”
Her smirk reached another level entirely, and I realized what I’d said. “I. Maybe I’ll drop in on the ball late.”
“Mhmm.” She put a forkful of pasta into her mouth. I was surprised she was willing to stop smirking long enough to do it.
“Really. I’m not hanging around that jackass voluntarily.”
She chewed smugly at me.
I glared at her, then noticed something. “Do you still need that?”
Sofia had arrived at school with a massive telepathy talent she’d been unable to control. She heard other people’s thoughts all the time, with little to no ability to turn it off. She’d won a crystal as a prize in her first MAPA Core class and, at Markston’s suggestion, had me charge it for her to help shield her mind from the unwanted intrusions.
It was a tourmilated quartz.
“Need what?” she asked.
“Your necklace. Do you still need it to block the telepathy?”
She looked down, as though she didn’t remember it was there. “Oh, this? No. I just wear it out of habit, I guess.”
“Are you wearing it to the ball?”
She shook her head. “It’d look ridiculous with my dress.”
This was true. Part of her new wardrobe was a gorgeous, red dress I’d suggested specifically for the Samhain Ball. The color was beautiful with her brown skin and dark hair and eyes, and it clung in all the right places to her athletic body. Wearing a natural crystal hanging from a black cord with it would have been a crime against humanity.
“So, what are you researching? Something about the circle?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Trying to figure out why it isn’t working for us.” It wasn’t a total lie.
“You going back to the Library after lunch?
I shook my head. “Not right away. I checked out a few books, including this one.” I indicated the huge tome in front of me. “I’m gonna go back to the room, keep an eye on Pye.” I hadn’t considered the impact to my usual schedule when I’d decided to spontaneously adopt a pet. I normally left the room in the morning and didn’t return until late, spending the whole day either in classes or at the Library. Now, I wasn’t willing to leave Pyewacket alone all day. Stupid cat was domesticating me, instead of the other way around.
“I’ll see you in a little while, then, I guess,” she said.
“Yep,” I agreed. “No way I’d let you do your own makeup for the ball.”
“Why not?” she asked, pretending to be shocked and offended.
“You know why.” Left to her own devices, Sofia dressed like a kindergarten teacher, and her idea of makeup was a swipe of mascara and some flavored lip gloss. An event like the Samhain Ball required a heavy hand with the cosmetics she simply couldn’t muster.
She shrugged, smiling. “I’ll see you at five, then.”
“Five? Doesn’t dinner start at seven?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Be back at the room by three.”
“Three? I’m not meeting Cabot until six.”
“And I’m going to need all that time to get you ready. If I can’t go to the ball myself, I can at least be the stylist behind the hottest girl there.”
She rolled her eyes, but she smiled. She loved being dressed up by me, even if she’d never admit it. “Fine. I’ll see you at three.”
“Don’t be late,” I said, shoving the heavy book into my bag. “I have my work cut out for me.”
“Bitch.” She stuck her tongue out.
“Always.”
Isaiah
All day had sounded like a lot more time on the other side of noon. I picked up the next book on my dwindling pile and opened it from the back, going straight to the J section of the index.
Janus Key, The 387, 592
My heart leapt, far from the first time. I prepared myself for yet another disappointment as I flipped to page 387.
Rarely used by experienced practitioners, the Janus Key is considered by some to be an indispensable tool for beginners.
Well, that was a bit insulting. But whatever; I wasn’t going to let some condescending crap keep me from using the only thing that had offered any promise of help thus far.
Some, however, disagree with the theory that the Key is nothing more than a crutch for the inexperienced, as its appearance in a painting by Arianna Gianelli suggests use by adepts. Others argue that Gianelli’s own knowledge on the subject was insufficient, and the suggestion of advanced practitioners utilizing the Janus Key is an unintentional revelation of the artist’s own lack of experience. Opponents of this theory point to misogyny, insisting Gianelli’s critics demonstrate a rejection of a woman’s ability to wield power or possess arcane knowledge.
So, the symbol had appeared in a painting. That was a lead, for sure. I’d never heard of Arianna Gianelli. I headed back to the catalog computer so fast a Librarian barked at me to slow down.
I typed ARIANNA GIANELLI and hit search. I didn’t find much, but I figured that might save me hours I didn’t have trying to narrow down my resources.
My search yielded three books. I pulled all three from the stacks, but most of my hope was riding on one of them, a slim volume called Women in Occult Art. Gianelli was listed only once, in a breezy section that may have well have been titled Oh, Yeah, and These Guys, Too. There was a single sentence, offering less information than the book where I’d first seen her mentioned. It didn’t even name the painting, but did include it on a page of black and white reproductions. The caption read: Practices depicted in art cannot always be trusted, such as the suggestion of the Janus Key being used by adepts. A. Gianelli, 1878.
The painting depicted a group of women, obviously some sort of witches, casting a circle. The circle was drawn on the ground around them, and a second circle, presumably an artistic suggestion of the energy that formed the real circle, crossed the first one vertically. Beyond that, I couldn’t make out a lot of detail. The women were nude—skyclad in witch jargon—other than a few pieces of ritual jewelry. The woman who appeared to be the High Priestess wore a circlet on her head, a crescent moon inside a triangle. All the women were wearing a necklace of some sort, and while it was larger on the High Priestess, it appeared to be the same symbol on all the women. This was almost certainly the Janus Key, but it was small and blurry, and the black and white of the image made for terrible contrast. I couldn’t make out enough detail for it to be useful. I even snapped a picture of it with my phone then tried to zoom in, but it was no use. I had to find a better image of this painting. It was time to recruit some help.
“Excuse me,” I said to the girl behind the Librarians’ desk.
“Yes?” She looked up from a Cryptozoology textbook.
“I’m trying to find a clear image of a painting, and I’m having absolutely no luck at all. I wondered if you might have some insight.” I opened Women in Occult Art and held up the page of terrible reproductions. “This one.” I pointed to the Gianelli painting.
To my surprise, she brightened. “I can do better than an image,” she said.
“You can?”
“We have the original here in the Library.”
“Seriously? Where?”
“It’s in reliquary sixty-one,” she said. Her confident smile said she assumed that made as much sense to me as it did to her.
“Which is… where?”
“Oh,” she said, waving away my confusion. “Sorry. You must be a MAPA. The reliquaries are the little nooks all over the library with art and antiquities in them.”
“Okay,” I said. “That’s helpful, but where’s number… sixty-one, you said?” She looked at me like I was an idiot for a moment, then seemed to catch herself and the look vanished. “reliquary sixty-one is in the Vampire section,” she said. There was still some leftover condescension in her tone.
I nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
“I’d take you there myself, but I’m not allowed to leave the desk unattended. If you can wait ‘til Abby comes back from her break, I can—”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I know where the Vampire Section is. I’ll figure it out from there. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Her nose was back in her book before I turned to walk away.
When I reached the arched entrance to the Vampire Section, I paused. I hated going in there. I’d only done it once, when Cabot and I were new to the school and curious.
In addition to MAPA and Academic, the third main department at OTA was the VTT, or Vampire Transformation Track, for students seeking to become vampires. The vampires creeped me out a bit, I had to admit, but the ones I really hated dealing with were the undergrads who hadn’t been turned yet. They tended to be a bunch of goth douchebags who assumed everyone who wasn’t in the VTT was jealous of those who were.
I checked the time on my phone to discover it was a few minutes after six; I had no time to stand there and dread going in.
I stepped through the archway and looked around, hoping reliquary number sixty-one was right at the front. It wasn’t. I looked down at the square of pale yellow paper in my hand, on which the intern at the desk had written R61. I didn’t need the note. I was perfectly capable of remembering three characters, but I hoped referencing a note would convey the message that yes, I did have a purpose for being in here.
“You look lost,” said a voice from behind me.
Here we go, I thought. I turned to find a tall, thin girl with sky blue hair smiling at me. “Kinda,” I admitted. “I’m looking for a painting, and an intern said it was in here. In reliquary sixty-one? I had no idea the antiquities nooks were called reliquaries, but—”
“I know what you need,” she said, surprising me.
“You do?”
“There’s only one painting in here, so that has to be it.”
“Really? You’d think there’d be more.”
She shrugged. “I’ve noticed the things in the reliquaries don’t tend to have anything to do with the sections where they’re placed. There’s some Vampire art around the Library, but none of it’s in here. Just like there are ancient magickal tools housed near the cryptozoology books and taxidermy of cryptid animals in the philosophy section. So far I haven’t figured out any logic to the system, and I’m really good with numbers. I’m Tansy, by the way,” she said, finally pausing to take a breath. She looked at me, but her eyes didn’t quite make full contact. It wasn’t like Professor Grey, who avoided eye contact deliberately; this was more like she couldn’t see me clearly.
“Isaiah,” I said.
“Come on, Isaiah.” She led the way, trailing a hand on the bookshelf to her right as she walked.
I followed her, deeper into the Vampire Section than I’d been before, to a nook—reliquary—along the wall about halfway back.
Most of the reliquaries were nooks set into the wall, containing tall curio cabinets filled with assortments of old objects. The cabinet in R61, as the brass plate on the wall labeled it, was half as tall, but a bit wider, than the average. This was because of the painting displayed on the wall above the shelves.
The painting depicted a group of witches, working inside a magick circle. That much I’d been able to discern from the crappy reprint in the art book. I could see the two circles surrounding the women more clearly now: a plain, white circle on the ground, and a vertical band, also depicted in white, arching over their heads and below their feet. Something I hadn’t been able to see in the blurry photo in the book was that the vertical circle had several symbols inside it, startlingly similar to the ones from our circle instructions.
I looked at the time again on my phone: six fifteen. I had no time to consider what that meant, or what further help this painting might provide. I was here for the symbol.
There was something etched into the ground, inside the circle. As I’d suspected, it was the same as the symbol around the witches’ necks. I dug into my bag, looking for a notebook and a pen.
“Is this what you were looking for?” Tansy asked.
I jumped; I’d forgotten she was even there.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know being in here freaks people out.”
“It isn’t that,” I said, though it partially was. “I was just really focused.”
“What are those things?”
“Demons, I suppose.” Outside the circle, there were monstrous creatures, all slavering mouths and pointy claws. “With a fair amount of artistic license, I’d say.”
“Creepy.”
A would-be vampire freaked out by an illustration of demons. I kept my amusement to myself. I opened my notebook and copied the Janus Key. It wasn’t key-shaped, at least not without a lot of imagination. The symbol looked like a letter S with one curve bigger than the other. The larger curve held a tiny X and the smaller one held a small O, with a long, straight line connecting the two. It reminded me of the middle symbol from our circle.
“Thanks again,” I said. “And I hate to accept your help and run, but I’m super late.”
“No problem,” she said.
I waved goodbye and took off, trying not to run. I had maybe forty minutes to get all the way across the Agora, draw two copies of the symbol, gather my supplies, and still beat Davie to the site in time to place the sigil in the ground. As soon as I exited the Library I burst into a run, not slowing down until I reached Earth House.
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