Low Magick by Lon DuQuette (little red riding hood read aloud TXT) 📗

banishing/invocation dance I described in chapter 11. As always, the exercise did its magick. In just a few moments I was infinitely centered. I opened my eyes with the realization that contrary to all appearances there was no “outside of myself”—that I was one and the same with the Great G.

Once thus firmly connected with the above, I proceeded to connect with the below. I aimed my wand directly at the spirit’s sigil and conjured Slug-Shlug into the Triangle.

Most modern Solomonic magicians use the Lesser Key of Solomon110 as their guidebook and script for evoking spirits. It is filled with page after page of addresses, conjurations, cures, and greater curses designed to cajole, threaten, or otherwise terrorize an unwilling spirit into the Triangle. I believe, however, that these hypnotic and rambling speeches do not really serve to bamboozle the spirit into the Triangle, but rather, are designed to bamboozle the magician into confidently believing he or she has the full authority, power, and ability to do it! That afternoon my conjuration was extremely loud and very, very brief.

“Slug-Shlug! Come!”

I was oddly awakened by the sound of my own words. It was though I had commanded every dog in the universe to “Sit!” and they had no choice but to obey. It must have been pretty loud, because a bird that had been minding its own business outside my office window was startled into flight. The sound of its fluttering wings instantly summoned into the Triangle of my mind’s eye the image of a huge Norwegian magpie.

Again, I was surprised to the point of distraction. I have seen these marvelous birds many times on my visits to Norway and England. They are more audacious and mischievous than crows or ravens, and because of their thieving habits and reputation for eating the eggs and babies of other birds, they are held in superstitious awe by many European cultures. In England, the appearance of a single magpie is an omen of great evil that can only be warded off by respectfully saluting the solitary bird.

“I’m here,” it squawked.

“I salute you,” I answered.

Such conversational exchanges with demons are difficult to describe because the answers from the spirit enter the mind of the magician on the same brainwaves that carry the questions. The bird cocked its head to the side and dipped a quick bow of acknowledgement. I held up the copper medallion and showed the spirit its sigil.

“Do you see this?”

“I see it.”

“What is it?”

“My mark,” it answered coldly. I turned the medallion around and showed Slug-Shlug the Pentagram of Solomon.

“Do you see this?”

“I see it.”

“What is it?”

“The mark that binds me.”

I held up the juror’s badge with the Hexagram of Solomon glued on it.

“Do you see this?”

“I see it.”

“What is it?”

“The mark that binds you!” it said sarcastically.

These answers satisfied me. It was now time to put the operation on ice.

“You will remain in the Triangle. I will visit you again soon. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Swear it!”

Then, as much as a talking bird can, it cleared its throat and said, “I swear. I will remain in the Triangle.”

Without further conversation or ceremony, I stood up within the Circle, removed my yarmulke and stole and stripped off my robe. I then carefully gathered around me the silken cord of my Circle, wrapped it tightly around my naked body, and tied it securely in place. I would not take off the medallion or leave this Circle until the exorcism was accomplished.

Part IV

Interview with Sister Martha

The doors of heaven and hell are adjacent and identical.

Nikos Kazantzakis,

The Last Temptation of Christ

I quickly dressed (concealing my silken magick Circle and medallion under a clean white shirt and black tie). I jotted down a few notes in my magical diary (including a hastily composed “oath”) and threw it my briefcase along with a few other items necessary for a traveling exorcism:

My almond wand (wrapped in its red satin bag)

My yarmulke

My bishop’s stole

A vial of Oil of Abramelin (see chapter 6)

The yellow Post-it Note pad with the sigil of Slug-Shlug permanently trapped in its own little Triangle

A flask of “Holy Water” (see chapter 6)

Two fresh votive candles and a glass candleholder

Two cigarette lighters

Six sprigs of fresh rosemary (clipped from our backyard herb garden)

The lid to a medium-sized saucepan

Marc arrived to pick me up, and soon the DuQuette Brothers’ Traveling Exorcist Show was on the road to Our Lady of Sorrows high school. It was early evening and the campus was closed when we pulled up to the towering Spanish wrought iron gate. Marc pushed the security button and announced our presence to the voice in the black box. Just as if in a proper gothic horror movie, the gates groaned open and we drove through.

Sister Martha stood outside the door on the side of the main building and indicated where we should park. She was a rather small woman in her mid-forties wearing a black skirt and simple gray suit jacket over a white blouse. I was disappointed she was not decked out in full medieval drag. Still, if I were asked to pick out the nun in room full of women, she’d have been my choice.

After introductions, Sister Martha gave us a brief tour of the building, pointing out the locations of various “supernatural” manifestations as we went along. We spent several minutes in the classroom that witnessed the death of young Sister Catherine, and the tour ended at the faculty lounge and the administrative staff area.

The lounge seemed innocuous enough, but I was immediately disturbed by the layout of the staff area, which was reminiscent of the nightmarish set designs of early German expressionist films. It was an asymmetrical and chaotic maze of misshapen cubicles completely devoid of clean right angles or unobstructed lines of sight. The office of the vice principal was the only enclosed office; its large windows provided a perfect overview of the panorama of chaos.

I am by no means an expert on feng shui, but I couldn’t help but think this entire