Free Hallowed Circle by Linda Robertson

My shoulders eased, tension fading as I savored my coffee.
    “Now tell me, Seph, how are you going to get out of this Eximium?”
    I tried ignoring her, sorted through the grocery ads on the counter. “Asparagus is on sale. Two dollars a pound.”
    “We need to talk about this.”
    “Have you come across anything in the Codex about fairies?” I asked. Maybe inquiring about Aquula would distract her.
    “No. Why?”
    “Just wondering.”
    “Don’t try to change the subject, Persephone. We were discussing you getting out of that competition.”
    “No we weren’t. You were telling me to get out of it. And I’m not. It’s the right thing for the right reason, and nothing you can say is going to change my mind.”
    I’d said it firmly enough that Nana closed the copy of the Codex with an angry flip of her hand and announced she was going upstairs to sew.
    Damn it. She does her sneakiest thinking when she’s quilting.
    I went about my normal routine and parked myself in front of the computer. Email, the first order of business, turned up a message from WEC with Eximium as the subject:
Congratulations Persephone Alcmedi on your recent nomination to the Venefica Covenstead High Priestess Eximium.
A nomination is a high honor and we expect your performance in this contest will prove your skill and potential. We always receive numerous inquiries as to the best way to prepare for an Eximium, but we can offer no advice except to be physically, mentally, and magically ready for any challenge.
The Elders overseeing this Eximium look forward to meeting you.
We expect you to arrive this Saturday at least one half-hour before the dawn.
    Blessed Be.
     
    While the physical training session I’d been looking forward to would keep my energy level up and work my concentration in ways that I hadn’t in a while, I wondered what Hunter Hopewell would be doing to prepare. Surely nothing that promised to chip her nail polish.
    That led my thoughts back to Nana calling me a bully.
    Defiantly promising myself that I could beat Hunter Hopewell in nonphysical ways, I got out my Book of Shadows and studied gemstones and their correlations with herbs. I reviewed poppets, runes, and astrology. By then, my coffee was cold. I dumped it out and poured myself a fresh cup.
    As I resumed my seat, the computer beeped. I had a new email. It was a revision request from Jimmy Martin, the editor for my “Wære Are You” column. Newspaper deadlines are forever tight, so I immediately tended to it, then did some preliminary Web research for the follow-up piece and left myself sticky notes.
    Thinking about wæres, however, turned into thinking about Johnny and daydreaming about his hard, lean body and how sparring with him might lend me some insight into what other kinds of physical exertions with him might be like. And I was more disappointed than ever that he’d been called away to work.
    Before I knew it, Nana was rambling in the refrigerator and making herself a scrambled egg sandwich as lunch. The day was getting away from me.
    I went outside with my broom and reset my perimeter wards so they included the bulk of the yard as well as the house. That done, I put my broom away and carried my Book of Shadows upstairs. As I passed Nana’s room, I noticed she was working with shiny green fabric. Not the type of material she normally uses on quilts.
    Then I noticed a pattern package on the floor: Beverley’s Hallowe’en costume. A mermaid.
    Without stopping or commenting, I proceeded to myroom and put my Book of Shadows in its place, but my thoughts had returned to Aquula’s warning. I still had to do more than protect myself. I had to warn Menessos. And I remembered the contact information included in the documents about the painting.
    Aha! Though I wasn’t about to call and leave a message, I could email him and not have to get anywhere near him.
    I wrote and rewrote the email a half-dozen times to be sure it was as sterile and to the point as it