“Thanks.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s a big decision.”
“True.” I can’t even imagine it. I doubt I’ll ever have kids. But Garrett’s been married for four years. “Huge lifestyle change. Diapers. No sleep. No going out with the boys.”
“Exactly.” He makes a face.
“Kids are kind of cute though. I have enough of them in my life that I don’t feel a need for my own.”
“Good thing, since you don’t even have a woman in your life. Hey, since things didn’t work out with Amy, Julie says she has a cousin she can set you up with.”
“Fuck off. I’m not doing that again. I don’t need a woman in my life. With all these ‘sisters,’ that’s another thing I don’t feel a need for.”
“You just need giggity giggity.”
“Don’t ever use that word with me again.”
He laughs. “Sorry. I had to say it.”
I roll my eyes. “Asshole.”
When we leave, I discover the waitress left me her name and number on my receipt. Garrett cracks up laughing. “There you go. Giggity!”
I shake my head, shoving the receipt into my wallet. “I’m not going to call her.”
I have enough on my mind with Romy’s potential powers and me having to teach her how to use them.
13
Romy
Joe and I are meeting for lunch today. He’s coming to the Loop, and I walk a couple of blocks to Paragon to meet him. He’s already there, standing on the sidewalk, and he gives me a big hug. I’m getting used to all the hugging. It’s kind of nice.
The hostess shows us to a booth with brown leather seats and a white cloth on the table. The high backs of the seats give nice privacy. I set my purse beside me as I scoot in.
We order coffee and our lunches, Joe going for the chicken pot pie, me the wedge salad with bacon and bleu cheese.
“So.” Joe pulls his coffee closer to him. “How’s the tutoring going with Trace?”
“Okay, I guess.” I lift one shoulder. “He’s very patient with me. I’m eager to try things, but he won’t let me.”
Joe smiles. “It’s important to know what you’re doing.”
“I get that.” I smile. “I’m working hard though. Since I only have a year to learn everything.”
“Yeah. I know it’s a lot.” The skin around his eyes tightens. “It’s not an easy thing to do. Others have tried and failed.”
“What? Nobody’s ever done it?”
“Oh yeah,” he says hastily. “Sure, they have. But some can’t.”
“Great.” I sigh.
“We’ll have to set up your interview with the Board of Elders.”
“Ugh. Trace mentioned that. It kind of freaks me out.”
“You’ll do fine. You’re an intelligent, well-spoken, poised young woman.”
My insides warm at his words of praise. “Thank you.”
“I have something I need to talk to you about.”
“Oookay.” I sip my coffee. Those words never sound good.
“It’s about your mother.”
My chin jerks down. “Oh. What about her?”
“Trace thinks that you have strong powers.”
I wait.
“Stronger than we’d expect from someone who’s half witch, half Rucker.”
“Oh.”
He gnaws his lip briefly. “We suspect that your mother might have had some witch blood.”
“No.” The word pops from my mouth involuntarily. “That’s not possible.”
“I guess we have no way of knowing. You never knew your grandparents?”
“No. They both died before I was born.”
“And no other family?”
“Mom was an only child, and so was her mom. Her dad had a sister, but she died years ago and had no kids.”
Joe nods. “Well, we’re just making some educated guesses here, but I wanted to talk to you about it. It may also explain why I could never find her. She might have used a spell to block me.”
“She didn’t use spells! She would laugh at this!”
“You don’t know anything in her background that would have made her deny her witch heritage?”
“No!”
“It’s okay, Romy.” He leans closer to the table. “We don’t know for sure, like I said. But it might explain some things. It doesn’t change anything.”
“But…” I shut my mouth. “Okay. I guess I just need to think about it. Process it.”
“Of course. I’m glad you’re doing so well with your tutoring.”
“Trace said I’m doing well?”
“Yes.” He gives me a puzzled look.
“He tells me I’m doing okay.” I roll my eyes.
“Ah.” Joe’s eyes twinkle. “I’ll let him know you need more feedback.”
“No! I don’t. It’s fine.” I adjust the cutlery in front of me.
“Okay.”
We spend the rest of our lunch chatting about a bunch of different things—my job, what I’m doing for the Charming Chalice, Cassie’s job as a youth career coach. He tells me stories about his brothers and working for their dad when they were younger.
I focus on work for the rest of the day, but when I get home, I sink down onto my couch and put my feet up. I stare at the colorful print on my wall that says magic in making.
There’s no way my mom could have been even part witch. She was in no way magical. She was down-to-earth, no-nonsense, and steady.
But then… not every witch I’ve met is like Felise—vivacious, creative, impulsive. There are some witches who are… well, dull.
If Mom was part witch, how could she have denied me knowing that about myself? How could she not have nurtured that part of me? Was she in denial about that part of herself?
“Mom.” I look up at the ceiling. I’m not sure if I believe in an afterlife, but yes, I’m talking to my deceased mother. “Why do you have to be gone now? Why couldn’t you have told me things before you went?” I swipe at a tear that escapes my eye. “Damn.”
Sometimes there are questions we never get answers to. I wouldn’t have these questions if Mom were still alive though. It’s only been finding my witch family that has raised all these issues for me.
Be careful what you wish for.
Maybe I should have left well enough alone. Maybe I never should have started digging around into my family background. Maybe I would have been happier just leading my old, mundane life.
Maybe.
I’ve been studying like mad for weeks now, and I’m sick of it. Trace keeps testing me and telling me I’m doing “okay,” and I’m frustrated and annoyed. He won’t let me try to use my magic powers on anything interesting yet, and I’m tempted to start trying things on my own.
I’ve never been a rule breaker, but sometimes a girl is pushed to her limits.
I created a Pinterest board to use for some of my ideas for my grimoire. Trace freaked out when I showed it to him because he thought everyone could see it. I assured him it was a secret board, but he’s still concerned that someone could hack into my account. I don’t know why anyone would do that, and besides, there are lots of magical pins on Pinterest. Anyway, he did some kind of spell to keep hackers from accessing my account.
Felise and Magan invited me to join a Facebook group called Witchy Women. Some of their witch friends are in there. I still feel a little lost, but the questions and tips they share are starting to make more sense. Apparently, they also have a Facebook spell to prevent hackers.
And every week it gets harder and harder to resist Trace.
After the art class I teach Saturday mornings, the kids all get picked up by their parents, but today one boy is still waiting for his ride. “Who’s picking you up, Danny?”
“My sister.”
I nod. It’s always his sister who picks him up. She’s about my age, and we’ve chatted a few times. “I guess she’s running a little late.” I peek at the time on my phone. Damn. I need to get out of here.
; “I really liked the painting you did today,” I tell Danny.
“I’m going to give it to my mom.”
“She’ll love it.”
Today we did watercolors, and I found myself with an urge to paint my own creation. I haven’t painted for a while, but watercolors were always something I loved. I plan to pick up some supplies tomorrow.
“What are we doing next week?” Danny asks.
“Next week we’re going to paint with magnets.”
“Huh?”
I grin. “Just wait, you’ll see.”
Danny’s sister rushes in. “Sorry I’m late!”
I smile at her. “No worries.”
Danny shows her his picture, and she exclaims over it, which tells me she’s kind. She smiles at me. “I love the things you do.”
“Thanks!”
I hate to shoo them out, but I need to get home for Trace. When I’m alone, I pause and look around the room. What if…?
I close my eyes and think through what I want to happen. Then I twirl a finger in the air and open my eyes.
Oh shit.
It looks like a cyclone hit the room.
I could cry. Now I have even more work to do. I consider trying again, but maybe I shouldn’t push it. Biting my lip, I rush around, putting away supplies, wiping up paint and water, cleaning brushes.
Then I dash home, even later than I expected. I wish I had time to change and make myself look pretty, but oh well, not today.
I usually try to look my best when Trace comes over. I know it’s stupid and wrong and out of bounds, but… I want him to think I’m beautiful. I want him to look at me like he did that night at the Singing Horse. I can see he’s trying to keep his distance, but I know he feels it too. I feel like he wants to kiss me and touch me and make my clothes disappear. Wait. Is there a spell for that?
It’s really a pain in the ass, looking up stuff in all those old books.
Anyway, he’s kind of serious and a know-it-all when it comes to magic, but I’m still ravenously attracted to him. I wish he’d let loose like he did that night, cheering and laughing at the turtle races and making a spontaneous visit to a haunted house at night to dance in the ballroom with no music. And kissing. I can’t forget the kissing.
Every time I think about it, I get that fluttery, aching feeling low down inside me. Hell, every time I sit beside him for our study sessions I get that feeling. It’s getting harder and harder to not think about it when he’s around. Which makes things a little tense. For me, anyway. I try to pretend I’m all relaxed and he’s not gorgeous and radiating sexy vibes that make me think I want to undo your buttons with my teeth and lick your abs.
When we’re sitting side by side, I’m hyperaware of him, my skin tingling, my hands almost involuntarily reaching out to touch his arm or his—cough—thigh. I have to hold myself back from leaning in closer to sniff him. That would be weird, but he smells so good, like the sea and cypress and musk. Intoxicating. If I ever get close enough to press my nose to his skin, I’ll probably get dizzy and pass out.
We commence this week’s lesson with a recess for cookies and iced tea. I always make sure I have some kind of sweet treat for Trace. Maybe the way to his heart is through his sweet tooth. He eats two big cookies while I check my phone and guzzle down my icy drink to cool me off. I’ve been feeling overheated ever since he got here, for various reasons.
After the break, Trace seems to take pity on me and suggests we try some simple transformation spells.
My irritation eases. “Okay! What are we transforming?”
“Let’s start in your kitchen.”
“Sure.” I stand and take him over to the kitchen counter. My kitchen’s a small U-shape, open to the living and dining area. I walk inside it, and he stands at the counter. I look at him expectantly.
“Do you have a box of crackers?”
“Sure.” I open a cupboard and pull out a package of Goldfish.
His eyebrows shoot up, but he shrugs.
“What are we going to do?” I set the crackers on the counter.
“You’re going to transform them.”
“Into what?”
“Whatever you want. I suggest not an elephant.”
I snort-laugh. “Good advice.”
“Think it through.”
I focus the power of my mind on the crackers. And holy shit, I do it!
Except… there are live goldfish flopping around on my kitchen counter! “Eeeeeeeh!”
“Jesus Christ.” Trace swats at the fish to keep them from flying off the counter. “Romy!”
“What!” I back up, hands over my mouth. “That wasn’t supposed to happen! They were supposed to be in a fishbowl!”
“Help! Grab that one on the floor.”
“I’m not touching a fish!” I’ll admire a pretty goldfish in an aquarium, but I sure don’t want to pick one up.
It takes Trace seconds to reverse the spell. However, there are tiny crackers spread all over my counter and floor.
I back into the counter opposite and stare. I think I’m in shock.
Trace looks up and sends me a vexed frown. Then he bites his lip. And starts laughing.
“Are you laughing at me?”
He presses his lips together. “Um… no?”
“You are.” My lips twitch too. “It’s okay; it is pretty funny.”
He laughs again. “The look on your face!”
“What?” I wheeze between laughs. “I don’t like fish!”
“Why did you choose to turn the crackers into fish then?”
“I told you, they were supposed to be in a bowl!” I love his laugh—deep and rumbly; I feel it low inside me. And his smile… God. His eyes crease up and gleam, two deep grooves forming in his cheeks from mouth to jaw. That smile makes me want to fall on my knees and…
Well.
Our eyes meet as we laugh, and something soft unfurls in my chest, tugging me toward him. I move the few steps to face him with only the dark granite counter separating us. “I’m really sorry.”
At least he’s not mad. “Now do you understand why we go to the Academy for two years?”
“Yes.”
“It’s amazing having power. But we need to be careful with it.”
“I get it. Good thing they weren’t animal crackers.”
He shakes his head. “Elephants and tigers and…”
“Monkeys. I love monkeys.”
“No monkeys.”
Our gazes connect again in a moment of shared humor and understanding, along with a sizzle that makes me want to leap over the counter and jump him.
He still feels it too. I know it. I lean over the counter. “Trace…”
He closes his eyes, looking like he’s got a bad toothache. “Romy.”
I swallow my sigh and push back. He wants me as much as I want him. I know it. He just won’t give in to it. I guess that’s why he’s such a powerful witch—he has so much self-control and discipline.
I used to be like that, but the more time I spend with him, the more I’m inclined to throw caution to the summer breeze and follow my desires. Maybe that’s why I’m not a good witch.
I straighten my spine and lift my chin. “We should get back to our lesson.”
“I think we’re done for today.”
“Oh.” A heavy disappointment fills me. “Okay.”
“Do you want some help cleaning this up?”
“No, no. It’s fine.” I pause and pick up a cracker off the counter. “Are they still okay to eat?”
He gives me a what-the-fuck look. “Of course.”
“Well, I don’t know!” Irritation shortens my patience. “They’ve been changed into real fish and back… Maybe they’ve been genetically modified or something.”
He stares at me. “They’re fine.”
“Okay then,” I snap. God, I feel like such an idiot. I hate this.
He moves to the door, and I follow.
“See you next week,” I say. “I imagine
Cassie will be having us for dinner as usual.” Weekly family dinners are apparently a Candler routine.
“Yeah. Probably. Maybe.” He flashes a tight smile. “Don’t forget to do your homework.”
“I won’t.”
I close the door behind him glumly. Once again, I’m tempted to just give up. Why am I doing this? I don’t need to be a witch. I can go back to my normal life where I know what I’m doing. Okay, it was a little boring, but right now that sounds really good.
The next Saturday morning, I wake up with a sore throat and a nagging headache. I call the art gallery and tell them I won’t be there today. I don’t want to spread any germs to the kids.
But Trace is coming over for more tutoring, and I’m not canceling that. I’m going to cure this sore throat before he arrives. It doesn’t take me long to find an appropriate spell. Or something pretty close anyway. I light a candle, a black one I got from the Charming Chalice, and say the incantation:
Magic mend and candle burn,
Sore throat leave and not return.
* * *
A moment later, I swallow. It feels fine! I set my hand on my throat and smile. I did it!
Amazing. Is this for real? I swallow again. Wow. I’m learning to cast spells. It still seems bizarre, but… wow!
I blow out the candle and dance into my bedroom to get dressed.
It’s a warm summer day. I contemplate a pair of shorts and a tank top, which are casual and show lots of leg, or a sundress. I’ve been doing some of my reading out on my deck or in the park, so I’ve acquired a bit of a tan. I go with the sundress, patterned with pink and orange flowers, the skirt short and flippy.
I check out the full-length view in the mirror, turning to inspect my thighs. Is there a spell to cure cellulite? Mine’s not bad, but every woman wants smoother thighs, am I right?
When I open the door to him, as usual I’m struck breathless. He’s wearing long, loose shorts with a T-shirt that hugs his shoulders and drapes over his flat abs. I open my mouth to say hi… and nothing comes out.
I frown, clear my throat, and try again. Nothing. Zippo. Not even a squeak.
My eyes fly open wide. I clutch my throat and stare at Trace.
Big Witch Energy Page 11
