Touch of Light by April Aasheim

Author:April Aasheim [Aasheim, April]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01M26FXID
Publisher: Dark Root Press
Published: 2018-02-27T16:00:00+00:00

I opened my eyes and stepped far away from the mirror. How old had she been then? No older than twenty, tops. Had the spirits known her life would be cut short? Or did the card represent the Death of her dreams, once she married and had children? Either way, it probably wasn’t a topic I wanted to broach right now. “I don’t think it works anymore,” I said.

“I brought you here because I knew you’d love it. There’s lots of books you can go through, a few dating way back to the Middle Ages. Some of these volumes have been in our family for generations. Trust me, you won’t find this kind of information on the Internets.”

It was indeed a fantasy library, with leather-bound editions that had never seen mass print. There were books on witches, the occult, spirituality and spiritualism. “Is this…no…is this…”

“Yes! An early work from Madame Blavatsky! I never read it. I heard it’s dry. But it’s nice to have.”

In that moment, I felt a closer connection to my mother than I ever had while she was living. “Mom, thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present,” I said, perusing titles on fantasy beasts and secret societies. My fingers twitched with the anticipation of reading them all.

“Did you catalogue these?” I asked, hoping to narrow down which book might be the most helpful in my current situation.

“Bah! Who needs catalogues.” She fizzled out and reappeared beside me. “The first rule of magick is that thought and intention create. So, concentrate on what you are looking for… and then follow your inner voice.”

I licked my lips as I studied the mishmash of a library. I hovered my hand over the books as I walked, waiting for some sort of signal that I should to stop. But my inner voice never spoke up.

“Try that,” Mom instructed, pointing to an uncertain step ladder buried beneath another stack of books. After carefully moving them, I climbed the ladder and passed my hand along the higher shelves. Finally, when I was precariously balanced on the top step, one foot thrust out behind me for balance, my hand felt a tingling warmth. I pulled my gloves from my pocket and removed a book covered in so much dust I couldn’t make out the title. Old energy radiated from it, such as that possessed by ancient alchemical and religious texts. It was a book written under the cover of candlelight.

“I think I found something.”

I carefully stepped down and took the book to the podium. Mom was instantly beside me, a smoldering sage stick in her hand. She passed it over the book.

With my gloved hand, I wiped the dust from the title: A Brief History of Goblins.

“Goblins! I knew it!” Mom said. “Thievin’ little bastards. But there hasn’t been a verified sighting for decades.”

I flipped through the pages. According to the book, there were many kinds of goblins and related variants. They were tiny creatures who had passed through the veil into Europe sometime in the late Dark Ages.

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