Sugar, Spice, and Spellcraft by D. E. Paulson

Author:D. E. Paulson [Paulson, D. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-64108-510-6
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2023-01-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

I BRUSHED my fingers against the wick of the shamash candle, eyes closed as I recited the blessings for the first night of Hanukkah. I took my time as I formed each syllable and only lifted my hand as I finished the last of the prayers. The wick sputtered, a burning sunset as I guided the shamash to the first candle. The world outside the bay window was dark, and some of my neighbors had turned on their various holiday displays. Curled atop the couch, the cat ignored the small magic and the holiday peacocking. I had left work only after I sobered up. We were ahead for the day, and Cara had seen my need to leave.

I looked at the heart of the small flame and my mind drifted. This, the lighting of candles, had been my first working, three years before I became bar mitzvah. The flame was mildly hypnotic, and I let it work through me. I hoped that watching the fire would bring me to a moment of clarity because, while I knew what I needed to do with Erik, I still didn’t know how. As my mind drifted, the strongest image that arose was my grandmother’s face.

I remembered her last day, her face pale, the light in her eyes fading, only half there. For the first time I could remember, there was no iron in her grip, only velvet. Tears were flowing down my face. Outside the small hospital room, my parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles all waited. She wanted to say goodbye to each of us individually, but it was taking its toll, and there were now nearly minute-long pauses between each sentence. I felt it, the faintest spark as she drew on the last of her power. It would keep her only so long, and we both knew it. The power that had been with her since her girlhood was ebbing and now, as she mustered the last of it, we both knew what that meant.

“Jakob,” she said. I squeezed her hand to let her know I was there, not trusting my voice. My tears were free flowing, but on her face, there was only a small, contented smile.

“Do not mourn for me, my clever boy,” she whispered, her voice as frail as winter sunlight.

“Babcia….” I couldn’t say more. How do you summarize a lifetime of love? How can you let someone know how much they mean to you? Everything I felt for her was summed up in the single word, what she had been for me—would continue to be for me even after she was gone.

“It is time. Do you have the book?” she asked. I squeezed her hand and then opened my backpack, where the grimoire had been living since she first came to the hospital, nearly a month before. She had told me to look after it the day she went in. She knew what was coming and tried to prepare me as best she could. She had felt the cancer and knew there would be no fighting it through science or sorcery.

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