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I Got A Spell On You

What Could Go Wrong?

By Jack ScrantonPublished about a year ago Updated 2 months ago 7 min read

Cassandra caught up with Todd in the hall outside the conference room.

"Hey, I was wondering if you have some time to go over the revisions I made?" she asked.

"I already read them. Sounded good to me. Nice work."


Todd, you dufus, that was your cue and once again you blew it.

He glanced at his watch. "I'll catch you later, okay? Got a meeting." And he was off.

Cassandra fumed. Nothing she did seemed to make an impression on Todd. Great guy. A real hunk. Nothing happening where it counted. What, oh what, was a poor girl to do?

Truth was, Cassandra had copious assets at her disposal. Aside from a sweetheart face and a Playmate body, there were other, more arcane, resources available to her.

As always, in moments of contemplation like this, her Aunt Lilith's stern warnings came to mind: The Power is a sword that cuts in all directions. Focused and guided by motives that are pure, it is capable of much good. Unguided, it can destroy. And the person it will destroy most completely is you.

Yeah, yeah. She knew the drill. Use it for good and you'll be a light to the world. God... How BORing!! What was the point of the Power if you couldn't use it now and then for your own benefit? Which attitude was why she'd been banished from the circle and forbidden to practice the Arts in any form.

Well, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And she was determined to tweak Todd's attention range. Nothing heavy handed, understand. No love-slave stuff. Just get him to... think of her. Once she managed to stick in his thoughts, she had no doubt that her own wiles would easily take care of the rest.

That night she set out five white candles, each at the point of a pentagram, and lit them. She sat at the center with a sixth candle, this one black, and a length of rope about two feet long. She emptied her mind and sat quietly for a couple of minutes until she felt the connection with the pentagram. Then, with Todd's face firmly in her thoughts, she tied a knot near one end of the rope and silently intoned Think of Me. A second knot—Think of Me; and a third—Think of Me; a fourth—Think of Me and a final knot—Think of Me. Grant me a prominent place in your thoughts.

Then she lit the black candle and set one end of the rope in the midst of the flame. The fire quickly began to lick upward, pausing at each knot. As one after the next was consumed, she pictured Todd opening to her, imagined walls around him crumbling to dust.

A simple ritual. But that's what people never understood about the Art. Elaborate props and scripted spells are needless theatrics. All that’s required is a focusing of intent, clear images in the mind, and bringing the will to bear on a desired result.

Okay, Todd. Ignore me now. If you dare.

* * *

Proof that the spell worked was not long in showing itself. The next day during lunch break, Cassandra made a point of walking past Todd (ignoring him, of course, but making certain he saw her). He called out to her at once.

"Cassandra, you got a second?"

Her heart fluttered and she felt a flush washing over her cheeks.

"Sure," she said, enthusiastically as she walked over and sat next to him. "What's up?"

"How'd you like to head the acquisitions committee for the convention this summer? I know you've been wanting to get more involved in the project, and when this came up, I couldn't help but think of you."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure. Glad, uh... glad you thought of me."

You blithering idiot. What's it going to take?

"Excellent. I'll get back to you when the next meeting's scheduled."

"Oh, swell. I just love meetings."

He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which, I have one in ten minutes. Gotta go."

And he was off.

Clearly, so was Cassandra's spell.

* * *

Fun and games were over. Time for some heavier artillery. Todd was going to need some specific focusing.

On her way home from work she bought a dozen red roses, then stopped off at the local apothecary where she purchased vials of patchouli, sandalwood, rose, clove, nutmeg and olive oil.

That night, she placed four candles on the floor at the four corners of her bed and lit them. Then she carefully pulled each petal from each rose and spread them evenly over the sheets. Finally, she disrobed and lay down amidst the rose petals. Once again, she purged all thoughts from her mind, save for Todd's face. But now she expanded the image to take in the whole of his body. Naked.

She slowly began to arouse herself, imagining Todd becoming aroused at the same time. She allowed the scene to play itself out to its inevitable conclusion. Then, as the candles slowly flickered out, she fell asleep amid the rose petals.

Again, simplicity, and directness of focus was the key. That, and the certainty that the images in her mind would manifest in the world beyond.

The next morning after dressing for work, Cassandra blended the six oils into a potent, pungent mix, a small quantity of which she dabbed behind her ears. She rubbed an even smaller amount along her cleavage, which, today, she revealed an abundance of.

Poor boy. He'd never know what hit him.

* * *

As luck would have it, She and Todd shared the elevator up from the lobby. They weren't alone, but that didn't matter. Their communication was all sense data—her perfume clouding his thoughts and her two girls fogging his vision. He did manage to say, "You're looking real good this morning," before disappearing back into his normal bland exterior and beating a hasty retreat as soon as the doors opened.

Well. She'd certainly connected on some level. But how much more would it take? This guy was a hard case.

Halfway through the morning, however, her optimism meter shot off the scale. Todd stopped by her desk. He was different. Not the normal, no-feelings, no-emotions Todd. This Todd had an actual expression on his face, and it was... not quite leering, but certainly evidence of some form of passion percolating beneath the surface.

"Hey, Cassandra, how'd you like to get drinks after work?"


"Um... wow. Yeah... sure. That would be nice."

Accept the offer, of course, but don't smother him with enthusiasm. Now that he was hooked, it was time to reel him in. Slowly. Carefully.

"Great," he said. "I'll look for you in the lobby."

* * *

Todd had morphed into everything she could have hoped. As they were sipping their drinks, he'd said, "It feels so good not to have to keep up that false front. I Like being able to just be who I am."

Cassandra was thrilled by the prospect of discovering just who that person was, and as the time moved from happy hour to dinner, he'd just laid it out.

"I've got a couple of steaks thawed out back at my place. And a couple bottles of wine just waiting to be uncorked. What do you say?" There was nothing to discuss, really.

Dinner had been a delight, the conversation never lagged and his attention the whole evening stayed right where it belonged: on her.

Now, she stood at the window looking out at a truly breathtaking view, while Todd stood behind her, softly nibbling at her neck, her ear, gently rubbing his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, holding her hands in his. It was such a moment of pure bliss, that at first, when the handcuffs clicked into place behind her back, she scarcely noticed. Then, as she began to heed the warning klaxons blasting through her brain, he stuffed a dinner napkin in her mouth.

"I figured you'd want to scream," he said, "and I did so want to keep things from getting too awkward."

Cassandra lunged for the door, but Todd caught her by her hair and gripped it like a handle.

"I've always been scrupulous about where I go hunting, you know. I never shit where I eat. I've never taken anyone that I work with. But, I don't know, for some reason I just couldn't get you out of my head. And that's when I realized that you are definitely someone I could be myself with."

Then he dragged her over to the kitchen counter, opened a drawer, and pulled out a large carving knife.


About the Creator

Jack Scranton

Writer, image retoucher, musician/composer, 3D artist. Despite modest success in all those fields, Photoshop paid the bills.

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