Taking up a stone crucible I had bought at a ley line shop up in Mackinaw, I set it in the lowest space between the bottom of the pentagram and the circle surrounding it. Fingers still touching it, I murmured, “Adaequo,” to set it in place and give its presence meaning.

I felt a small surge from the line and twitched. Oh, it was one of those spells. Great.

My nose tickled. I stiffened, realizing I hadn’t brought any tissue in with me. “Oh, no,” I said, my voice rising. Jenks looked panicked, and I sneezed. He was laughing when I brought my head up. Looking frantically for something to wipe my nose with, I settled on a scratchy paper towel, managing to tear off twice what I needed and getting it to my face just in time for the follow-up sneeze. Crap, I had to finish this spell fast.

The big-ass symbolic knife I had gotten at Findley Market from a cheerful woman went in the center space with the words me auctore, and a feather was given meaning when I placed it with the strength of lenio in the lower left-hand leg of the star. My nose was starting to tickle again, and I hurriedly checked the textbook.

“Iracundia,” I said, holding my breath as I set Jenks’s dandelion in the other leg of the star. All that was left was the candle.

The force in me had been building with every word, and with my eye twitching I set the blessed candle carefully in the topmost section of the star, hoping it wouldn’t fall over and spill wax on my chalkboard so I’d be spending tomorrow cleaning it with toluene. This one wouldn’t be set with a place-name until I lit it, and with that in mind, I plucked the bamboo skewer from where I had left it, setting it aflame again from the vanilla candle.

Wiping my free hand on my jeans, I shifted from foot to foot and transferred the flame to the blessed candle. “Evulgo,” I whispered, wincing as a surge came in from the line. My eyes widened. Oh, God, I was going to sneeze again. I didn’t want to know what it might do to my spell if it wasn’t cast yet.

I moved fast. Grabbing the feather, I dropped it into the crucible. I snatched up the knife, and before I could get uptight about the ugly symbolism, I pricked my thumb and squeezed out three drops of blood. I would rather have used one of my finger sticks, but ley line magic was based on symbolism, and it made a difference.

The knife went back into its little spot, and I peered at the text, thumb in my mouth so I didn’t get blood all over the place. “Non sum qualis eram,” I said, remembering it from another spell. Must be a generic phrase for invocation.