Hexed

suitable candidates present themselves, I will consider it. «
    The Morrigan pivoted quickly back to business. » Let us say that I have returned from Goibhniu with a cold iron amulet weighing sixty grams and a chain of silver rope. What happens next? «
    » Next you have to bind the cold iron to your aura. Unless you’d rather just use it as a talisman. «
    » Bah. I already know how to make those. They are only good against direct external threats, and they do nothing to your aura. «
    » Right. So look at my aura. Where do you see the iron? «
    The Morrigan narrowed her eyes and directed her gaze slightly above my head. » It appears like filings inside the white interference of your magic. Specks of cookies in the cream. «
    » What? I had no idea you liked ice cream. «
    The Morrigan’s eyes flashed red. » If you tell anyone, I’ll rip off your nose. «
    » Okay, back to the aura, then. Those iron specks are actually tiny knots. I have bound the iron to my aura all over, so that when a spell targets me or locates me via aural signature, it runs into iron right away and fizzles out. You have to be scrupulous about making a good scatter pattern, so there aren’t any holes in your coverage for a spell to get through, and be so thorough that whole-body hexes cannot distinguish you from the iron. That saved my life just two days ago. «
    » What happened? «
    » Some German witches slapped an infernal hex on me. When it works, you simply go up in flames. But since the iron bindings in my aura are aliases that— «
    » Stop. What do you mean by aliases? «
    I grimaced at my own foolishness. » I apologize, Morrigan; I forgot you are unfamiliar with computer jargon. An alias is nothing more than a tiny file that points to another, larger file. It’s a proxy because it only represents the real thing rather than being the thing itself. I cannot very well walk about with an actual cloud of iron filings around me, can I? But magical proxies that point to a real cold-iron amulet are easy to live with. «
    » Ingenious. «
    » Thank you. When this hex hit me, instead of my body burning, the iron proxies bound to my aura directed the entire thing to my amulet. « I tapped it a couple of times for emphasis. » It heated up so quickly that it burned my skin. I would have been bacon without it, and in fact the same hex turned a local witch into cinders. «
    » Remarkable, « she said. » This happened two days ago, you say? «
    » Yes, that’s right. «
    » I received absolutely no premonition of your impending death at that time. « She shook her head slowly in fascination. » You were completely protected. «
    I wondered if she thought I was completely protected against the Bacchants last night. And then I wondered if she would get any premonitions about my fate at all, now that she had agreed never to take me. » Well, the burning skin was torturous. It was like watching fifth graders trying to perform Wagnerian opera. «
    The Morrigan waved the point away. » But you have the means to deal with that. You were never in mortal peril. And this protects you from hellfire as well. «
    » Yes, even that which is spewed from a fallen angel. «
    » How do you bind the cold iron to your aura? Doesn’t the iron resist your magic? «
    » That’s the tricky part for sure. Once I had the idea for this in the eleventh century, I spent a couple of decades trying to do it myself, but I couldn’t because you’re right, the cold iron laughs at all attempts to mess with it. You need the help of an iron elemental. You have to befriend one, basically, because it’s a lot of work for them too. Like I said to you before that business with Aenghus Óg, the protective process alone took me three centuries. «
    The Morrigan cursed in that Proto-Celtic language of hers and her eyes reddened. » I am not a goddess of smiths! I have no talent for iron, nor for making friends! «
    » Perhaps you could view it as an opportunity for personal growth rather than an obstacle. As a goddess of death, making friends wouldn’t make sense, I suppose, since you must eventually take them all. But I can walk you through that process too. It’s not difficult. «
    » Yes, it is. «
    » I respectfully disagree. Iron elementals like to eat faeries. I’m sure you can lay hands on a few of those. «
    » Easily, « she agreed, nodding. » They breed like rodents in Tír na nÓg. «
    » Great. Now, when the iron elemental thanks you for the faeries and