“Yeah? Well, The Witch Hunter’s Bible is still out there somewhere,” I say.
“Which isn’t a big deal because the Priory is decimated, remember?” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “No one’s going to come after you. Everything’s okay now.”
Anger flashes hot in my stomach, and I almost ruin my whole plan by yelling that everything is not okay—Paige is still missing.
“I know that,” I say instead. “But I just feel uncomfortable. Like, what if they come back. What if their numbers swell, or what if some lone sorcerer wants revenge on the witch who killed his people? I think…well, I think I’d just feel better if I knew how to defend myself.” I glance up at him. The way he looks at me is like I’m the most important thing in his world.
“This is really bothering you, isn’t it?” he says.
I bury my face in his chest. Guilt twists my stomach for manipulating him. This is Bishop—the guy who’s been there for me through thick and thin, through losing Mom and losing Paige, who held me all those nights while I cried myself to sleep. I must be seriously deranged to abuse his trust like this.
I consider ending the act right now—spilling everything about my trip to Los Demonios and the real reason that I want his help. Maybe hearing my theory will tip the balance in my favor? But terror that he’ll refuse to help me after he knows what I plan to do with my new skills, or worse, that he’ll tell Aunt Penny, who will ship me off to witch boarding school, keeps my lips firmly sealed.
“Okay,” he says. “We’ll practice.”
I let myself smile then, guilt giving way to excitement.
“We can even start right now. What do you want to learn first?”
“How about throwing fireballs?” I answer too quickly.
Bishop gapes at me, and blood rushes to my face. I let out a nervous laugh. “Or we can start with conjuring objects. You know, in case I don’t have a weapon handy during an attack.”
“Conjuring is a good idea,” he says, once the shock has worn off. “It’s next on the list anyway.”
I give him what I hope looks like an innocent smile.
“Okay,” he says. “What’s been the most important principle you’ve learned so far about magic?”
“I didn’t know there’d be a test,” I say.
He grins. “Come on, you know this.”
I sigh. “Um, something about energy? That it can’t be created, just manipulated?”
“Exactly! So when moving objects you manipulate energy that already exists, and when flying you manipulate the air currents that already exist. When you conjure an object, you aren’t creating energy, but borrowing existing energy and using it to take the shape of the item you want. It’s pretty hard, but once you learn an object it’s easier each time to make it appear again. I’m good at money.” He winks at me. “So what do you want to try?”
I blow out a breath, thinking of what could best fend off another Bat Boy attack in Los Demonios. “I don’t know. How about a gun?”
His nose scrunches up. “You don’t want to do that.”
“Why not? The purpose is to protect myself,” I reason.
“Because using a gun against a sorcerer more skilled than you is the surest way to get yourself killed. They’d just reverse the bullet direction and you’d shoot yourself. And anyway, that’s too complicated for your first attempt. A knife is smarter.”
“Well, a knife isn’t going to help me much. I’d have to get too close to use it. And plus, I feel kind of weird using a knife. After, you know…”
I don’t say the words aloud—that Mom was killed with a knife. But I don’t have to.
“Sorry, I didn’t think of that,” he says. “But we have lots of time to work up to something bigger. Let’s start simple.”
A memory flashes into my head. “I know! What about a shield? The day Frederick took my mom, he trapped me in some sort of invisible box so that I couldn’t try to go after them. Isn’t there something I can learn that works the same way, except keeps anything from coming in?”
“Easy, Tiger. You’re talking about top-level skills here.”
I sigh, my shoulders slumping.
“Relax,” Bishop says, shaking me lightly. “You don’t pick up a guitar and right away play like Jimi Hendrix. You’ve got to start somewhere. Try a candle.”
I roll my eyes. What the hell can I do with a candle in Los Demonios? Cast some unflattering light on my enemies? But Bishop won’t take no for an answer, pulling my hands up in front of me. He turns me around so that his chest presses into my back, and speaks into my ear.
“Instead of pushing the energy down, away from you, like when you fly, feel around for it with your mind and bring it in front of you. The word for ‘candle’ is candela.”
I clear my head and stare at the middle distance. Since I’ve gotten better at flying, I’m more aware of the earth’s energy moving all around me. I can feel it in the warmth of the sun, hot and intense, and in the air, fast and thrumming. I can even feel it in inanimate objects—this dull, still presence. I focus on the energy in the room and try to pull it into me.
“Candela,” I whisper.
But instead of a candle appearing, my bedroom attacks me. The clothes strewn across my floor, the papers and bottles of nail polish scattered all over my desk, the duvet on my bed, and even the curtains around my window fling themselves at me all at once. I have to cover my face as I’m pelted with my own stuff. I release the energy, and they fall to the carpet.
Bishop’s laughing.
“It’s not funny!” I cry, slapping his chest.
“And back to the violence,” he says through his laughter.
I cross my arms.
“Oh, don’t be so mad,” he says, trying his best to sober up. “Try it again.”
But my heart isn’t in making a stupid candle. I want to learn something helpful. I tap my foot, thinking.