Unlocking Family Secrets

Jamie smiled as he finished the markings, the piece of red chalk down to just a nub now "Whew, all done" he double checks the designs, making sure there are no breaks or inconsistencies in his work. "Looks good, gotta make sure before I attempt this, wouldn't want it to go wrong on me, could just see Nana scolding me over it if I did" he chuckles softly to himself, a fond memory of his grandmother popping up with that statement. He wished she could be here to see him now, both to give approval as well as help make sure it was all correct. Oh well he'd just have to work really hard to make her proud in the beyond, or wherever it was she might be. He recalled that day, when his Nana had finally passed. He'd felt sad but only briefly, all the good memories of the years spent with her lifting him up inside, even at her funeral everyone seemed to be okay, some even cheerful.
That was how she was though, Nana always brightened things up no matter how dark they seemed, even in death. He flipped through the one of the worn ancient books he'd gotten from her, willed to him after the funeral. When he'd first heard what she left him it seemed strange, maybe Nana was playing a little joke, she had loved doing that, playing a little prank or two on Jamie, he in turn would do his best to get her back later. It was a favorite game of theirs, never was there anything mean about it, some harmless fun between them. But even if it was a prank they had come from Nana and he would cherish them as if they were the finest treasure in all the world. That was two years ago, now he was standing in the abandoned shack, candles burning as he reread the instructions for a summoning. Seems that Nana had been a witch, a pretty good one at that too, the books she'd given him were full of spells and potions for almost any type of situation or need.
At first he hadn't believed it, his Nana? A witch? Now he truly felt this was some sort of prank she was pulling from beyond the grave. As he had read though them he began to think, his young mind toying with the idea that maybe she was a witch. Wouldn't that have been so funny? Nana didn't even look like a proper witch. As he continued though the thought grew, slowly he began to search his memories for anything that might have hinted at her being one. At first nothing came to mind but then he came across a recipe, the ingredients made no sense but something about it brought up a memory, of a cold winter day when he was 7. He'd come down with the flu and Nana had made him some kind of soup, steam rising from the bowl as she brought it in. He'd sniffled, wrapped in a thick blanked as she told him it was magic soup and that it would make him feel better.
Of course being 7 he was skeptical of anything adults said but he trusted Nana well enough so he ate it obediently. Well the very next day he did feel better, able to go out and play in the fresh snow that had fallen overnight. He missed those days, carefree and young, school seemingly a long way off as he stayed with Nana. His mother had passed away just the year before so his father had been bringing him to Nana's when he was at This link (work.He) is not approved. Submit this link for approval missed his mother then but Nana filled the hole in his heart her passing had left. With a smile on his face he looked at the recipe closely, searching. Finally he saw it, right there below the recipe was a list of uses for it and one of which was curing the flu. After that he inspected every one and while some didn't have anything that sparked a memory a few did, enough for him to start believing.
Finally after he'd gone through all the books he found an envelope stuck to the back inside of the last book. He removed it and took out the neatly folded letter. He recognized his Nana's handwriting instantly. " Dear Jamie, seems my time has finally come and I have shuffled off this mortal coil so to speak, but such is life and on to the next adventure, we sure had some of our own didn't we? hehehe anyways, as you may have gathered from the books, that is if you read them first but knowing you you probably did, your dear sweet Nana is a witch, heehee yes a bonefied witch, black cats, broomsticks all that nonsense, well some of it anyways. Not sure who had the bright idea to start the broomstick rumor, dang things aren't supportive at all, worse than a bicycle. I'm getting off track here though, your mother could have been a witch too if she'd wanted, but she fell in love with the mundane world.
It happens, old Gilda had her granddaughter become a lawyer, imagine that, fancy suit and tie with a skirt, all that smartsy lawyer gibberish, back in my day oh oopsies I am getting sidetracked again. Well anyways your mother had made up her mind to be normal, though I know I caught her using a bit of the craft here and there from time to time, old habits die hard. I was so sad when she passed away, we'd seemed to grow a bit apart those last years before the accident. Well from grief comes joy, cause it brought you into my life deary, my sweet Jamie. You were like a bright shining star, I saw a lot of your mother in you, it warmed my heart and I was so happy I got to be a part of that, to see you grow, I wish I could just be there now, had to have been a heck of a shindig for the funeral. Now when she had first decided to become normal I promised your mother I wouldn't say anything of our family history to your father or his parents, I kept that promise, still have but she never said I couldn't tell you, my darling grandson.
Now as I watched you grow I saw it, that potential, usually it's been a girl born each generation but then you came along, at first I thought you wouldn't have it but then I saw it, the magic of our line, passed on from witch to witch, and now to you sweety, Now I wish I'd been able to teach you some of the craft before passing but the time wasn't right, I held out as long as I could but you can't keep death outside your door forever, so while I regret I am not there to assist you in person I will always be with you in spirit dear, I want you to learn these spells and potions, start with the easy stuff of course, should be able to guess which those are, save the harder stuff for last. Hopefully in a few years you'll be a full fledged witch, well maybe warlock is the right term, not many males practiced the craft in my time, not like in the really old days, boy would have given anything to seen those days.
Magic ran rampant, unbridled, not like now, sheesh barely any magic to be found these days, it's all been buried beneath progress, pshaw. But practice diligently hun, not sure if they are still around but when I was of age I was taken before the coven, I had to perform a difficult spell, earning me the title of witch and respect of my peers. Well darling that is all I have to say, oh make sure you keep this a secret, as you know our kind isn't highly regarded as we once were, good luck dear, I'll be watching over ya" a couple of wet spots form on the paper as Jamie cries a little, sniffling quietly as he bucks up " I promise Nana, I'll do my best"..... *back to the present* Jamie closes the book and goes back to the design he drew on the floor, no breaks in the pentagram or the symbols, all are correct, he places candles at each point of the star, lighting each one, then he places a dish with an offering in the middle of the pentagram, stepping back into his own circle he had drawn before the other.
" Alright, it's now or never, if you're watching Nana, give me the strength to complete this" He began to chant, softly at first, old words rolling past his lips, long forgotten by all but the most dedicated of historians. He repeated the phrases he'd drilled into his brain from Nana's book, making sure the words came to him as easy as riding a bike or solving a math problem. Some of the words he uttered weren't in her book though, at first when he had come to the summoning spell he ignored it, heeding her words to stick to the basics, but as time went on and he mastered each spell and potion he became bolder, more confident in his skills, still he left it alone but began some research into it, what it could be used for. From what he read in her books(Nana had even left him her diary, a wise decision he was sure) she had used the spell before the coven to bring forth a lesser demon, commanding it to perform a task of some sort(she hadn't gone into much detail what), slowly an idea had formed in his head.
He would do the same, but he had a different plan of who to summon and for what purpose. He of course couldn't be sure if Nana had used the spell again, she never mentioned doing so but it didn't matter, what mattered is it was doable, and even what he had planned, all you had to do was make sure you got it right, no screw ups or else it could go very bad very quick. He'd read all sorts of tales about summonings gone wrong, most just stories, some having a ring of truth to em. Finally after three years of research and planning he was ready, he'd decided to do it on his 18th birthday, starting the spell a few hours before he turned one year older so that it could be completed when he did. During his research he'd also tried to see if there was still a coven or council or whatever it may be now but he had found nothing, save that an obscure group of nondescript nature comprised of elderly women had died in a freak accident years before.
The trail had gone cold there and he hadn't pursued the matter further, perhaps there was no one left, maybe he was now the last, though he doubted that, there had to be others scattered across the globe, someday he'd try and find them, but he had other matters to attend to first. He chanted a little louder, the words a steady drone as he recites them over and over, the candles flicker as the room slowly grows darker, the air feeling chill. Yes, it's working he thought as he kept going, the shadows in the room lengthening steadily. Wind howls outside the shack but he ignores it, bent on completing the ritual. All the lights in the shack flicker and die, leaving just the candles before him and next to him burning, their light barely able to pierce the inky black depths of the night, he drones on, his voice like a low hum, he barely notices when an even darker shape begins to form in the pentagram across from him, black smoke curling about like a maelstrom as it grows within the drawing.
He keeps going, the spell not yet complete, if he were to stop now then it would be broken and all would be for not. Slowly the smoke took on a more distinct shape, it was now around 6 feet tall and at least three foot wide, slowly legs began to appear, hooves at

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