Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Once I’ve made space, I take chalk from the small wooden chest where I keep my supplies and draw a large pentacle on the old wood floor, a circle big enough for me to lie down in. I take out my candles and light them up around the edge of the circle, murmuring incantations as I light each one, getting my mind to focus on manifesting my astral travel, thinking of Valtu, of the vampires, of the book. Beside each candle I place a chunk of clear quartz for amplification.
Then I turn out the lights and open the window a little bit, enough that the wind forms a stream for my consciousness to leave my body. The flames flicker in the damp breeze but don’t go out.
Next, I take four other crystals from my collection and carefully step over the candles and into the circle, taking my time to lie down so I don’t disrupt anything. I go on my back, my eyes open to the ceiling, and place a small ametrine generator on my solar plexus to bring me comfort and confidence. In one hand I make a fist around a tumble of black tourmaline for protection from the vampires, in my other I do so with angelite for opening my mind. Finally, I place a very rare piece of moldavite on my forehead to open my third eye. Immediately I feel the moldavite vibrate, generating heat into my skin. I’ve had a tricky relationship with moldavite since its energy is so intense, but that’s exactly the help I need to do this.
With everything ready, I do my best to relax. I meditate for a bit, clearing my mind, bringing forth the image of myself leaving my body. Every time I attempt to do it though, I lose focus and feel pulled to the ground again.
Knowing that time is of the essence doesn’t help, but I have to act like I have all the time in the world. I have to let it happen, it can’t be forced.
Mind awake, body asleep, I start to chant.
All my focus goes to the burning moldavite between my eyes, a shimmery green crystal that’s not a crystal at all, but glass, the result of a meteor slamming into the earth fifteen million years ago. When I use it, it’s as if I can feel the origins of the universe inside it.
It isn’t until I finally feel calm and at peace, the ametrine helping me feel buoyant and clear, that I feel myself enter the vibrational stage, where it feels like waves of energy are rolling up and down my body. Eventually there’s a kick, and I lift away from my body and enter the spirit realm. I’m now floating in the air and I head for the window, letting the breeze take me away. I don’t look back at my body lying on the floor, the sight would be too shocking and I would be pulled back. Instead I find myself floating just above my apartment building, the lagoon spreading before me, its dark waters seeming to swallow up the lights of the city.
I try not to marvel at what I’m doing—doing so seems to break the spell—instead I accept it and use it while I can. On the astral plane, you are free to create whatever you want (within reason) or do whatever you want, but I have no intentions of having fun while I’m here, I just need to get a job done.
Of course, being on the spirit plane means that I’m drawn to places of spiritual significance, such as San Michelle, the Island of the Dead, that sits across from my building. The call there is strong, an island comprised only of tombs since you can’t bury the dead in Venice, but I make my way down to the conservatory. I get there so quickly, it’s like teleporting, and suddenly I’m inside the library.
The lights are all off save for a few desk lamps here and there, and it’s definitely closed and empty. I focus on the metal door and move through it, then through a black space that feels like a hallway, then through another door.
And then…
I’m there.
At first I don’t know where I could possibly be or what the hell is going on. Though I don’t have a body, my senses are all still there, and I’m hit with the musky scent of sex and the metallic tinge of blood. I realize I’m at the top of a spiral staircase looking down over a vast windowless room. The walls are red velvet, the furniture black leather, candles lit in sconces casting dark shadows. There are straps and chains and other contraptions you’d find at a BDSM club, if it was held in a gothic cloister.
There are also people fucking all over the place, and a lot of the straps and ropes and chains are in use, which makes me think it is an actual BDSM club.