Recurro capillus.
Victoria parroted his words and her hair reassumed its natural color. She frowned thoughtfully.
"But why do I need the words, Leto? I've performed magic without them. If I think hard enough I can do a glamour without any words." She stared at him intently and watched as his silver-colored fur metamorphosed into black and white polka dots. "See?"
You're not like most witches, Victoria. Most others have to use words to shape the magic or it won't respond. Even though your own magic is not defined by words, they can still help to increase the potency of your spells.
"That's good to know."
Wonderful. Now change me back.
The magic came easily to Victoria, and it made her feel better than she had in weeks. It felt good knowing that she was learning to control the strange and sometimes overwhelming power inside of her. She couldn't change who she was, but if she learned enough, maybe one day, she'd be able to control the demands of the blood and not end up like her ancestor, Brigid. Despite her fear, that had been the tipping point—Victoria vowed that she would never become a slave to the blood.
The amulet, too, felt as if it were harmonized to her every feeling, like a mood ring she'd worn when she was younger. She was fascinated by its unerring ability to warn against danger, and as much as she tried to outwit it, she found that it always flared hot whenever she endangered herself. Each time she mastered a new spell, the amulet warmed with approval.
It was heady and frightening at the same time. She became adept at moving things with a simple command, "effero," and bending others to her will, which Leto definitely did not like, especially when she made him walk into the ice-cold spring in the back yard. He retaliated with a vicious swipe of his paw on her leg, which healed on its own at an unspoken command, "curo," from her mind.
Shall we try teleporting? Leto asked her one afternoon while Holly was out grocery shopping.
"Didn't you say it was really difficult? As in things-can-go-terribly-wrong difficult?" Victoria said, frowning.
It's an important spell. I'd rather you get hurt now than later.
She backed away warily. "Hurt? I don't—"
Leto hissed in her direction. See that tree over there near the spring? Clear your mind and focus on a spot near it. Say "transeo" when you are ready. The destination must be clear.
Victoria scowled at his tone but took a deep breath and focused on the spot he'd said, envisioning it clearly in her head.
"Transeo!"
It felt like everything was being sucked into her belly button and then all of a sudden she was standing near the tree, the wind knocked out of her. Momentarily disoriented, she felt exhilarated with success until pain jackhammered through her leg. She looked down. A fallen branch skewered her calf, blood spurting everywhere. Lightheaded, she crumpled to the dirt, and gingerly tugged it from her leg.
"Curo," she gritted through clenched teeth, and watched as the wound healed before her eyes.
That was relatively painless, Leto said. Let's try it again when you're ready.
Victoria made a choked noise. "Relatively painless? ld You're a sadist, Leto."
At least you didn't get fused to the tree trunk. Victoria blanched. Trust me, I've seen far worse.
After some practice, Victoria grew to understand the nuances needed to successfully teleport. Leto explained it succinctly.
It's physics. Mass and matter displacement, he thought to her. Certain materials will give to support a teleported object. In other cases, the reverse is true. With the tree branch, blood and tissue gave.
Victoria learned quickly, moving inanimate and animate things alike, seemingly without effort, and a few times, she'd almost slipped up with Holly.
Once, Holly walked into the kitchen when Victoria was pouring herself a cup of coffee, only from the other side of the room. She'd coughed loudly to distract Holly, and set the cup down gently.
Later that same night in her room, Leto confided something she'd wondered herself.
I think she knows the truth of what we are. Victoria was startled. Of what we are?
His green eyes glittered. I have something to confess. I also belonged to your grandmother. Victoria stared at him, frowning.
But that would make you over eighty years old! How long do familiars live? You could be five thousand years old for all I know, no wonder you're so grumpy half the time, she said with a grin.
Leto paused giving her a sidelong glance. Not that old. But back to the start of the conversation, I think Holly knew about Emmeline.
Should we ask her?
Perhaps you can look first, he said pointedly.
"Leto, I can't just go into her head! She's family and that's intruding! I do have a few principles," Victoria said aloud. "While we're on the subject, there has to be rules. What's to stop me from controlling someone's mind completely?"