Wild Magic

by Madeline Freeman

  When he emerges from the bathroom a couple of minutes later, I’m shocked to see the gray sweatpants and blue sweatshirt actually cover him to the ankles and wrists. Jodi must have cast some kind of spell on them, because even if the clothes were baggy on my mom, there’s no way they would fit Seth like this.

  “Thank you for these,” he says, stretching out his arms and legs, testing the length of the sweats. “And let me apologize again for arriving unannounced. I couldn’t abide the idea of you here alone in the dark. I wanted to be sure you were all right.”

  “I’m more worried about you. With how cold it is out there, I won’t be surprised if you get sick.” Jodi squints. “Did you walk here? How did you even know where here is?”

  Seth’s mouth twitches, a shadow flickering across his face. Then he smiles, ducking his head. “Maggie at the bookstore. She was leaving when I arrived, and she told me where I could find you.”

  I study his face. There’s something he’s holding back, but I can’t tell what it is.

  Jodi doesn’t seem to notice. She claps her hands together. “Since you’re here, why don’t we get some training out of the way? I’ll show you around the greenhouse so you can start learning the herbs.”

  Seth nods eagerly and follows Jodi down the hall toward the greenhouse door. I go, too. Although I’ve learned a lot about the properties of the various plants Jodi sells at the shop, I don’t know as much as I should if I’ve been around them for four years. With any luck, I can pick up some information while she teaches Seth.

  The greenhouse is, of course, mostly glass, but it’s so dark outside that the room is ensconced in shadow. Jodi clucks her tongue. “I’ll go grab some candles from the dining room. Kristyl, I think there’s one or two over there on the bench. Why don’t you get those lit? I’ll be right back.”

  Jodi leaves, closing the door behind her, and I cross the room to the far left corner where Jodi’s workbench is positioned. She uses it when she’s planting or re-potting, or when she’s bundling herbs. There’s a pair of pruning shears on the table, along with a spool of twine and a black Sharpie marker. But no candles.

  “Perhaps the candles are in the box underneath?” Seth, who followed me over, bends down and slides the small cardboard box out from beneath the bench. He unfolds the top and grins, reaching in and pulling out a long white taper. I reach for it, but, in true guy style, he tosses it up, making it spin in mid-air. I bump it on its descent and it slips through his fingers, colliding with the edge of the tabletop before clattering onto the floor, broken cleanly in half with just the wick connecting the two sections.

  “Good going,” I grumble. I reach for it, but Seth is both closer and faster. He kneels down and closes his hand over the two broken edges of the candle. He’s still for a moment before pressing himself to standing.

  He holds his closed fist out to me, the candle jutting out on either side of his hand. “Here you are. No harm done.”

  I snort. “No harm done? Yeah, except now we’ve got two pieces instead of—”

  Seth opens his hand. Resting on his upturned palm is an unbroken taper—just as unblemished as it was when he pulled it from the box.

  I gape, brushing my fingers over the waxy surface. “It was broken.”

  The corners of his mouth turn down. “No, it—”

  “Yes, it was. I saw it.” I take the candle from him, examining it. There’s no trace of the break.

  He shakes his head. “You’re mistaken. Perhaps the light—”

  His alarm heats my skin. He’s nervous—scared, even. He didn’t think I saw it, and now I know. I know his secret. The realization washes over me like a wave and I close my fingers around the candle, rotating my wrist so the wick is upright. “Calm down. It’s okay.”

  “I should go.” He turns and strides toward the greenhouse door.

  Panic rises. He can’t leave—not right now. I need him to understand why what he did is okay. Closing my eyes, I take in a breath and connect with the energy around me. When I open them again, the wick of the candle is lit. “Wait.”

  Seth stops, spinning slowly on his heel. His green eyes widen at the sight of the flame. “How did you—?”

  “I think you know.” I take a few steps toward him. “This candle was broken. I saw it.” His eyes flicker between my face and the flame. “I know what you did. I know what you are.”

  “Okay, this should be enough,” Jodi says as she pushes through the door, a half dozen pillar candles tucked between her arms and torso. “Let’s get these set up and let the training begin!”

  Seth closes the distance between them and relieves her of the candles, following her directions about where to set them. He doesn’t look at me.

  I fight the urge to continue our conversation. Although Jodi knows about magic—and uses it in this reality—based on his reaction with me, I doubt Seth would want her to know he’s a witch. I don’t know why I’m surprised at all, really—after all, he is from the Barnette line. He knows the Barnettes helped found Clearwater, but does he know about the family’s magical abilities?

  As Jodi starts her herb tutorial, Seth makes every effort to keep his eyes from straying to me. My presence is making him nervous. I tamp down my desire to question him. We can talk when he’s ready. Quietly, I slip out of the room.

  ***

  Rain lashes against my bedroom windows, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the shriek of sirens. My chest is tight. I spent some time trying to peer out the windows to see where the ambulances or fire trucks were headed, but it’s impossible to see much outside. It’s been over an hour since the storm started, and I still can’t shake the feeling that a natural force doesn’t propel it. The circle is behind it somehow—I can feel it. The question now is why it’s still happening. The weather was affected—they’ve proven they can do it. But things are getting out of hand now and it doesn’t look like the storm will break any time soon.

  My stomach sinks. Maybe it hasn’t broken because they can’t stop it. Like Bridget, who hurt Dana Crawford more than she anticipated, maybe this storm is worse than they planned.

  The stairs creak. “Are you up here?” Seth calls softly.

  I’m surprised to hear his voice. After what happened in the greenhouse—after his nervousness, his fear—I figured he’d ignore me the rest of the night. I sit up on my bed and scoot to the edge. “Yeah. Come on up.”

  He appears slowly, first the top of his head, then his face, his shoulders, his torso. Finally, he arrives at the top, taking a tentative step into the room. I motion for the desk chair and he hesitates before making a move to it. “About… About earlier…”

  “We don’t have to talk about it.”

  “I want to,” he says quickly.

  I smile. I understand exactly where he’s coming from. For so long, I had the power within me, but I didn’t know what it was. And once Jodi told me, she insisted I learn to keep it under control. But something that’s so much a part of me isn’t something I want to ignore. I want to be able to talk about it, to learn about it. From the look on his face, it’s obvious Seth feels the same way. “How long have you known?”

  He shrugs. “My whole life, it feels like. I always knew there was something within me. Once I realized what it was, I became obsessed with learning all I could about magic. My research is actually what led me here. I told you I study genealogy, but I only study it because I realized my abilities come from my family lines.”

  I lean forward, eager. This is the kind of conversation I’ve longed for. There wasn’t enough time for it to happen in my other life before everything changed, and now I have to pretend like everything isn’t brand new to me. But here, with Seth, it’s perfect, because we’re strangers. “I bet you know all kinds of spells.”

  “Know, yes. But the number of spells I can actually do is limited.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “From what I can tell, there are many people in the world who possess the ability to wield magic. But most wi
ll never know they can. Some people are more in tune with their abilities than others. Some people can work spells without trying particularly hard, while others struggle to do even simple tasks.” He holds his hands up. “I struggle.”

  This makes sense. The first time I did a spell with Crystal, she was shocked I was able to do it on my first try. She said it took Bridget countless attempts to do it, and even now, it was hit-or-miss. “Do you know other witches? Like—did you know some back in Massachusetts?”

  His mouth twitches. “I had a circle, but we’ve since disbanded. You?”

  I bite my lower lip. “I have a circle. I’m not sure they like me too much right now, but…”

  His eyebrow furrows. “Why not?”

  I hesitate. Should I tell him about the crystal? I suppose it doesn’t really matter—it’s not like he knows its history. And I don’t have to tell him how we got it. “You know how certain things—like stones—can store energy? Well, we found a stone like that and they wanted to anchor the circle to it. I didn’t.”

  “Did they do it?”

  I nod. “And I tried to stop them. It didn’t work.”

  A muscle in his jaw jumps. “That’s unfortunate.”

  The wind howls against the house. “I think they’re doing this. All day, they’ve been using magic, and this storm… It doesn’t feel like a regular storm.”

  His eyebrows hitch upward. “They’re using this stone to control the weather? That’s powerful magic indeed.”

  “I don’t trust it. I don’t like that they’re anchored to it. They think it’s because I don’t want them to be more powerful than I am, but that’s not it. There’s something… not right about the energy of the crystal.”

  He shrugs. “Why not sever their connection to it?”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “Why not? If it can be done, it can be undone.”

  My stomach flutters. Could it be that simple? Could I simply cut their tie to the crystal? “I don’t even know where to look for a spell like that.”

  “Leave that to me. I’m rather good at research.” He smiles.

  I try to smile back, but it falls almost immediately. I look down into the smoky stone on my ring. In spells I’ve done before, it’s been necessary to charge elements with power beforehand. What if that’s similar to how the energy got into the crystal? “Couldn’t we just… I dunno… discharge the energy or something?” I ask, pulling Seth into the middle of my thoughts. “Like, if it’s not in the stone anymore, there’s nothing left to be anchored to?”

  Seth purses his lips, his eyebrows drawing together as he considers the idea. “I don’t think it would work—not while they’re linked to it.” He offers another smile. “I’ll add it to my list of research questions.”

  This time, I do manage to smile. It’s good to have someone helping me with this.

  Chapter Eleven

  By morning, the sky is clear. The only indication of last night’s storm is the damage it left in its wake. A survey out my third-floor windows reveals holes in roofs, broken windows, dented cars, and broken tree limbs.

  Power was restored some time during the night, dashing my hopes of a day off school due to no electricity. Since Seth mentioned it last night, the only thing I can think of is the possibility of a spell to un-anchor the circle from the crystal. Especially after the conversation Fox and I have on the way to school.

  “Did you lose power last night?” I ask as he pulls out of my driveway.

  “Uh, no. You did?”

  “Yeah. Here and at the shop.”

  He hums vaguely in response, discomfort radiating off him in waves.

  “What’d you do last night?”

  “Uh, you know. Homework.”

  Typically he glances at me when we talk on the way to school, but this morning, his eyes are on the road. “They were over last night, weren’t they?”

  He readjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “It’s not like that. I mean, it wasn’t an official meeting or anything. Everyone just ended up coming over. They wanted to do some spells and didn’t want any adults interfering.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “One of those spells wouldn’t happen to have, I don’t know, caused the storm, would it?”

  He sighs. “Kristyl.”

  “I knew it.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not what you think. Crystal and Lexie and Bridget just wondered if they could do it. They didn’t mean for it to get as crazy as it got—”

  “That’s exactly my point, Fox. There’s too much power for them to control. Things are getting out of hand.”

  “No—it’s not that. It’s just… We need practice. I told you that. I think you’ve been so good at controlling it for so long you’re forgetting what it was like when you were first learning to control your magic. You’ve just got to give us some time.”

  It’s not time they need, but I don’t tell Fox that. Instead, I let the subject drop. There’s no need to fight over it. If Seth can find a spell to sever the circle from the crystal, I won’t have to worry about their magic getting out of hand.

  Like yesterday, Lexie does a glamor between every class to change her appearance. More people notice today and crowd around her to ask where she’s getting all the fancy clothes. Bridget isn’t around Crystal’s locker nearly so much today. Any time I see her, she’s with a tall, broad-shouldered guy with blond hair and a slightly dazed expression. He must Marcus, the guy Dana Crawford was talking about yesterday.

  Like yesterday, the girls ignore me, but I don’t mind. I’ve still got Fox to talk to, and for now, that’s enough.

  He’s walking me to sixth hour when it happens. Crystal, Lexie, and Bridget stand at Crystal’s locker, sipping from the same coffee cups they’ve carried all day—which have yet to run empty. Bria is walking down the hall, arms loaded with books. I catch the look in Lexie’s eye just before Bria pitches forward, the books flinging out of her hands and clattering to the floor. The people in the hallway part like the Red Sea and a swell of laughter builds as Bria catches her balance.

  “Why does she hate her so much?” I ask Fox.

  The look he gives tells me I should know. “Come on. Lexie’s pretty good at holding grudges.”

  That’s an understatement. Bria stares daggers at Lexie as she reaches for her fallen belongings. Lexie just smirks before pivoting and heading down the hall, Crystal and Bridget beside her. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my skin prickles. A split second before it happens, a wave of energy courses through me.

  As though the very air around them thickened into a wall, Lexie, Crystal, and Bridget come to a sudden stop, their coffees spilling down their fronts. An ear-piercing set of screams shrills through the hallway and everyone in the vicinity whips around to identify the source of the sound.

  Everyone but me. This wasn’t an accident—someone made them spill their drinks. Could it be another witch? I shake my head as soon as the thought occurs to me. Whatever just happened, it felt different than magic. But what could it have been?

  The hallway is all motion now, with people rushing toward the girls—some to try to help, others just to get a better view. At least two people snap pictures with their phones. It’s impossible for me to tell by looking who might have caused the spill, but maybe if I reach out with my abilities…

  I focus the way I used to when I would share thoughts with Owen. In my mind’s eye, I see a band of white energy trailing from the center of my chest down into my right arm, and out my fingers, spreading out around me like ripples on a pond.

  Something resonates back to me. Someone is heading down the hall toward the sharp right turn by Mrs. Ortiz’s room. Without waiting to figure out who the person could be, I take off at a quick pace in that direction, leaving Fox behind. I need to know who has abilities like that.

  I’m fast, but not fast enough: By the time I arrive at the turn in the hallway, there’s no one in sight. But there is someone ahead of me—where this hall j
oins another. Not wanting her to get away, I take off at a run.

  Her. I know the person is a girl. And… familiar.

  She’s nearly to the next hallway when I catch a glimpse of black hair cut in a severe bob, and I take in a breath before calling her name. “Bria!”

  Bria Tate turns toward me slowly, eyes wide and guilty. Her gaze darts behind me like she’s expecting me to have backup. “Stay away from me,” she says, her voice low.

  I freeze, holding my hands up. “I’m not here to retaliate.”

  Bria’s mouth twitches. “For what? I didn’t do anything. Unless you’re gonna try to blame me for your friends being clumsy bitches.”

  I take a slow step toward her, heartened by the fact she doesn’t back away. “It wasn’t clumsiness that made them spill their drinks, just like it wasn’t clumsiness that made you drop your books.” I step closer, keeping my eyes locked on hers. She’s not a witch—her energy is different from that of anyone in the circle. But there’s another explanation. “You’re psychic, aren’t you?”

  Surprise flickers across her face, replaced immediately with fear. She snorts. “You’re crazy.”

  “Am I?” I take another step. I’m barely more than an arm’s-length away now. “I know more than you think I do.”

  She rolls her eyes and turns away, but I grab her arm, pushing a single thought from my mind as I make contact with her skin: I’m one too.

  Bria closes her hand over mine as she turns back, eyes round. “You can’t be. You’re… you’re…”

  “A witch?” I supply.

  “One of them.” Her hand drops to her side.

  I remove my hand from her arm but don’t step away from her. “Things are more complicated than that—more complicated than I can even start to explain.” I take in a breath, allowing the question that’s been tugging at the back of my mind up to the surface. “Are there more like you. Like us?” I want to say his name—I want to ask if Owen knows who he is, what he is, in this reality, but I allow Bria the space to tell me what she knows.