She sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, her cheeks a darkening shade of pink. “Okay, I think I know what I can do.”
“Good. Now you have to convince her to let you do it.” Duke pointed at Lily. “And remember, no crying.”
This was going to be interesting to watch.
Hazel looked at the little girl, whose bottom lip was pouting and whose fists were clenched. She didn’t look ready to hear what Hazel had to say. And Duke knew the kid could be stubborn as hell.
With another deep breath, Hazel seemed to fortify herself, looked at him one more time, eyebrows raised, then walked to the girl.
She made it about ten minutes, which was five minutes longer than Duke thought she’d last. Lily was a dramatic girl. The sight of blood was enough to have her hyperventilating. Third degree burns to her face and neck…well, screaming didn’t begin to describe what that little thing could produce.
Hazel wasn’t doing anything Duke hadn’t done already. Her abilities were superior, sure, her counter spell more direct, and with Duke’s help to bolster her, it was working to reduce some of the redness and scarring. They made a good team, for sure. Either way, as hard as Hazel had tried to keep the pain to a minimum, as slowly as she’d worked, Lily wasn’t going to give her an inch. The screeching had drawn a crowd, Hazel was doing her best to ignore them.
She was good under pressure, he’d give her that.
Hazel took another pass, her fingers not touching Lily’s scars, just hovering above her tattered skin, little sparks of magic jolting and zapping as she drew them down along the bubbled tissue. She had a smile quirking on her lips—just a small one, barely noticeable. Humble to a degree. She knew she had this.
Lily was shifting on her seat, her fists clenching and unclenching as Hazel drew the power of the last of the fire magic out of her. What Hazel was forgetting, and Duke was bracing himself for, was the sudden withdrawal removing such intense magic would cause to Lily.
As she lost the thing that was both a torment and an addiction to her, her screams turned to deep, mournful moans. And then as Hazel got closer to the root of it, Lily started to scream in earnest. Anger, furious rage exploded out of her little body. Losing the magic she’d come to rely on was perhaps more painful than the damage it had caused. True magic was addictive for humans and this little girl had been living with the pain on purpose. She’d refused to let Duke pull the magic away from her in past visits but he’d told her today that it was going to happen. She had no choice—it was that or let it consume her completely.
Duke wasn’t strong enough to do it without her cooperation but Hazel was. And it was working.
Hazel was so locked into her spell that the heightened sound of Lily’s desperate screams didn’t reach her right away. When they did, she was so entrenched in her magic that all she could do was open her eyes wide, a mirrored look of horror locking her in place. Duke could feel her own confusion, rage and fear. It washed over him, gripping him in her whirlwind as she fought to keep the spell going. The girl’s screams were horrific. She tried clawing at her own face, at Hazel, punching, kicking out, only to meet a barrier that Duke had invoked, a spell to keep everyone safe.
The villagers were closing in. Looking at him for guidance. Concern written all over their faces, fear amplifying and hitting him from all sides. He’d warned them this day would come. Either with time as he unravelled the spell or if he brought a powerful enough Healer. They knew this is what Lily needed but that didn’t stop her mother from running to them, busting through the crowd to get to her only child.
All of the interns were staring at the scene. Everyone no doubt thinking that Hazel was the worst Healer ever. Duke felt a little bad about that.
But this was a lesson she needed to learn.
Lily jumped up from the cot, knocking it over, her expression wild, desperation riding her as she lunged at Hazel. “Stop! Stop! Stop! Plllllease stop!”
Hazel frowned, looked to him for a second, no more, then shook her head and did what he would have done. She swooped in on the child, busting through the magical barrier that Duke had constructed and wrapped Lily in her arms. She took them both down to the ground. With arms and legs wrapped around Lily, she fought to hang on to her, to keep her from scratching her eyes out, from running away, all the while Lily screamed and cried and threatened to kill everyone there.
Hazel closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath and then pulled power from the Earth. Duke felt the vibration through his legs, a rush of magic that actually hurt in its intensity. He looked at the other interns—they felt it too. Eyes wide. Mouths gaping. Duke refocused on Hazel, stoking her with his powers. She didn’t flinch at the intrusion; she accepted his offering, rolling it into her spell to cocoon herself and Lily.
It took another ten minutes. That’s it. She ripped away the last of the spell and then sent out a soothing balm that stretched far enough to touch him and, by the looks on the villagers’ faces, them as well. Lily had stopped struggling. She was quietly sobbing, her little arms wrapped around Hazel. Hazel was whispering to her, cooing endearments and reassurances.
Duke moved to them, motioning for Lily’s mother to come as well. “It’s okay to take her now,” he said.
Hazel locked eyes with him. She looked exhausted. She should have been annihilated but he knew it would pass quickly. Already the Earth was rising up to rejuvenate her. He could feel it like a constant vibration. She was an amazing witch. Truly one of a kind. He could see why her mother thought she was worthy of the Circle.
He held his hand out for Hazel to take. Surprisingly, she did.
“You knew.” She was angry, her voice quivering. “It was impossible to keep that kid quiet.”
“Yes, quite.”
“So you set me up for failure.” She dropped his hand the second she was on her feet.
“No.” He motioned to the dispersing crowd. “I did what I needed to do to get you to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That showing compassion, caring, bonding with your patient in even a little way goes far with the humans.”
Anne was there now, her hand out to Hazel, something glittering there.
Hazel frowned as she turned toward the old woman, accepting the gift and opening her palm to reveal a small amber stone. It was clear—nothing inside, no flaws marring it. It symbolized warmth, compassion, and nurturing. More importantly, it symbolized acceptance.
“It’s beautiful,” Hazel said. “Thank you.”
“You are a good witch,” Anne said. “You did good today.”
Hazel blushed. “I didn’t do—”
But Anne was already walking away.
“You did good today. Remember that when you work on your next patient. You took your time. You didn’t rush it. That’s the most valuable lesson you could ever learn in the field. Speed is essential all of the time, especially in trauma healing, but you can be fast and soft. Often times, giving that touch of kindness makes everything go quickly and with less struggle.”
“I’m still really angry with you.” Hazel was clearly fighting a smile as she examined the amber, holding it up to the light so it refracted onto her skin.
“Probably not the last time you will be on this trip.” He turned to address the rest of the Healers. “Wrap up your patients. We have to get back on the trail if we’re going to make it to the stones by dusk.”
11
The standing stones were not as huge as others in Scotland but they were still impressive. The magic aura surrounding them ebbed toward Hazel like it was drawn to her. Tendrils of power reached out in colorful bands.
“If you’ve never experienced centuries old stones, this is the place to be.” Duke came up next to her, close enough that she could feel his body heat, smell that unique blend of vanilla and sandalwood. She took a step away, putting more distance between them. As if that would make a difference.
The five stones stood seven feet tall at least, huge slabs that were
moss covered, pock-marked and in various stages of decay. Magic would eventually wear them down to nothing. It could take a millennium or more but it would happen. It was corrosive stuff. Overuse could age witches and humans alike rapidly, irreversibly.
Hazel moved closer to the nearest one that stood tall, nestled against another that acted like an altar, flat and long. She could see the remnants of blood there—human witch blood used for spells would forever stain the stones as long as they were there. The layered effect produced an interesting collection of magic signatures. Hazel could feel them all. She hoped it wasn’t life blood—that humans hadn’t lost their lives there but she couldn’t say. She knew that sacrifice had historically been a part of some rituals.
The other interns were scattered around the stone circle, all quietly marvelling at the energy the stones gave off. It was breathtaking. Intoxicating. Hazel ran her fingers along the edge of the stone and felt the jolt of Earth magic there.
She gasped at the purity of it, so raw, available and calling to her. She drew her fingers away only to put them back again a second later. Was this what people felt when she shared her power with them? This vibration that made her want to giggle? She flattened her hand against the stone and closed her eyes, listening to the hum of so many voices, spells cycling through them. She soaked it all in, opening herself up to it more.
“Happy to see you all made it alive.” Bridget’s voice echoed into her thoughts, pulling Hazel away from the stone’s magic like a dousing of cold water. “We scouted the area. All is clear.”
Hazel swayed a little when she opened her eyes, dizzy from the surge of power, revitalized too though, like she’d had a few dozen cups of coffee.
Bridget was standing next to Duke, watching Hazel with a look of amusement on her face. “Impressive, right? Bet you’ve never felt that before.” Bridget winked then turned back to Duke. “No trouble on the way?”
Duke shook his head, his eyes only now leaving Hazel. “Made a pit stop to do some work. No problems there. I’ll get a fire started.”
Bridget nodded as he walked off then turned back to Hazel. “You have any trouble on the way?”
“No.” Hazel frowned, shook her head. “Everything is fine.”
Well, except for making an ass of herself at the village. Putting her needs ahead of the patients’ while she worked efficiently to meet some fucked up quota she’d set for herself. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head the whole time. Faster, Hazel, work faster. People appreciate speed, focus, expertise. She’d completely neglected the human part of the equation.
“Good. Your mother wants a check in. I’m going to scry her once the moon is up.”
Hazel sighed. She wanted to say that she wasn’t a child. That she didn’t need a check in. Instead, she nodded. “Do you need me to do anything?”
“Set yourself up with the rest of the interns. I’m sure one of them can help you get your tent up. Stay close to the group and be sure to ward your sleeping space. Don’t want anything to happen to the Promised One.” She winked again. “We’ll eat then get some sleep. It’s a long day of trekking tomorrow. I know you’re probably not used to such physical exertion. It can be demanding on the body.”
“I know how to set up a tent,” she snapped, then softened her tone at Bridget’s hardened expression. “I’m not some… Oh, never mind.”
Hazel had been about to say, I’m not some spoiled princess. But she decided it was better to keep it to herself. Obviously she had a reputation. Powerful magically speaking, pampered otherwise. If they only knew the drills she’d undergone, the years and years of hard training. She’d told them that she’d travelled on the time lines before. No one had bothered to ask where she’d gone. Her mother had spared nothing in her home schooling. She hadn’t gone easy on Hazel either. Hazel had gotten dirty. She’d gotten bloody. This wasn’t Hazel’s first field trip either. Her mother had prepared her for her one year of intensive testing to fast track her to the Circle. She’d worked hard, so hard. She’d taken hits. She’d been drained again and again and again. She’d had bad experiences, amazing experiences. She’d helped people. She wasn’t a spoiled princess. She was quite capable—
“You, Tate, get over here and help Hazel set up her tent. She’s never been away from home before.” Bridget was barking orders.
Hazel could feel her face heat and anger bubble.
Tate beamed at her, moving before Bridget had finished talking. The others looked at her with pity, disgust, like she was an alien. Like she was exactly what they expected her to be.
“I’ve been in battle before!” She whispered it at first. No one was listening so she raised her voice. “I’ve been in battle before!” It came out louder than she’d wanted. Eyes went wide. Bridget stopped barking. Hazel had everyone’s attention now. “I told you that I’ve travelled the time lines. I’ve been out in the field before. Worked triage, Egypt, Spain, Australia. I did a tour.” It was silent all around her. Everyone was staring. “So I know how to set up a tent.” She snapped her eyes to Bridget, then to Tate. “I haven’t spent all my time at home. I’ve been working hard. Training hard.”
She needed them to understand. She wanted them to accept her.
“How am I not surprised?” Bas said. “Privileged and entitled white witch, with all of the perks of being a Knight. So what? You’ve gotten your field training already? You want us to bow down to you now? Before you’ve even stepped into the Circle?”
Hazel’s mouth gaped. “No, I—”
“You needed us to know that you’re better than all of us, right? It must burn you that you can’t use those hours you got triaging already, right? You have to do it with the rest of us for it to count.” Bas snorted, then made a big show of bowing to her. “We are unworthy.”
“Enough, Bas!” Mahdyia looked at Hazel, frowning.
“That’s not what I was saying—”
“Keep it to yourself, sister.” Bas righted himself, snatched up his backpack and stalked off. “At least she’s only around for a year, right?”
“Just ignore him. Here, let me help—” Tate moved to grab her pack.
“No!” Hazel pulled away. “Thank you! I don’t need help.”
She stormed off in the other direction. How could she keep getting this wrong? Every time she opened her mouth, she said something to make things worse. It didn’t help that Bas also had a way of twisting her words into something she didn’t mean.
“Hazel!” Mahdyia was following her, running to catch up.
“Leave me alone!” Hazel didn’t stop, she didn’t turn around and when Mahdyia’s hand landed on her shoulder, she sent a zap of magic to ward her off.
“Ouch! What the—?”
“Where were you, huh?” Hazel said over her shoulder. “Why didn’t you help me back at the village? Tell me I was doing it wrong?”
“Some lessons you have to learn for yourself, Haz.” She said it softly, with pity.
Hazel turned to face her. “That’s just fucking great. I thought you were my friend but instead you’re just like the rest of them, right? Look at me. Poor little entitled Hazel Knight. Too privileged to know what she’s doing. Leave me alone, Mahdyia.” She turned again and walked away.
“Fine Hazel, suit yourself. Keep to yourself, like you always do. Crawl into that shell and block everyone out.”
For all her training, for her years of advanced education, Hazel still had no real idea how to relate to other Healers. Humans, yeah sure, no problem. Talking to them held no expectation, no prejudice. But other Healers knew who she was, what she was destined to be and it made all her interactions feel strained. Weird. Awkward.
Except for Duke. With Duke, she’d never felt that way. Even after he’d found out about her witch status, she hadn’t felt weird talking to him.
She stopped walking once she was high on the hill overlooking the stones. She’d thought Duke was human for a year. She’d talked to him, laughed with him, let him get as close as possible.
And yet he wasn’t a human. So maybe the problem wasn’t with everyone else. Maybe the problem was with her.
Being home schooled had it advantages but being unable to connect with other Healers was a definite disadvantage. She was inept at it. Unskilled with small talk. Unable to pick up on the cues that seemed so obvious to everyone else. And that bugged her too. She was good at most things. With training, dedication, time, she could excel at everything she set her mind to. But not this. She sucked at communicating with her fellow witches and she was stuck with them. At least for the next year.
Bas was right. Once she joined the Circle, the only interaction she’d have with other witches would be purely magically speaking. They’re be no conversation, no awkward misinterpretations. She’d speak to them through her power and that was it. Probably for the best. Alone, maybe, was better. There was no expectation when you were only dealing with yourself.
Mahdyia always teased her for being sheltered. It had pushed Hazel to seek out other kinds of interactions. Sneaking out of her home when her mother was preoccupied so she could gain experiences that weren’t hand-picked for her. She’d thought she was getting life experience but she realized now that it was still manufactured. She’d been hiding behind a mask most of the time. The humans had no idea who she was and denying that part of her identity had not given her true experience with communication.
Bring on the self-pity.
Hazel set her pack down and surveyed the area below. The sun had set quickly, the stars brilliant in the darkening night sky. Heat rose from the stones, making them look hazy. The others were in various stages of setting up camp. They would leave her alone now. Mahdyia would make sure of it. They didn’t even glance in her direction.
She wanted to be part of the group, desperately, pathetically. She wanted to go down there and talk and laugh and eat with them. But she didn’t want to at the same time. Being alone was easier, less tragic because there was no room for failure.
The Witches of White Willow: A Witch Hospital Romance Page 9
