I focused all that conjured energy on trying to move a pencil from the table. When that didn’t work, I took a break for a cup of apple-vanilla tea and lit a few candles before trying again. Another thirty minutes passed with no success. I lost count of how many times I tried, but I wasn’t giving up. I closed my eyes and centered all my energy inward, trying to build up a store of power, then opened my eyes to try again.
The pencil budged—a small bubble of excitement tickled in my chest—but then the leaden utensil shot across the table and smacked against the wall. The splintered wood and snapped lead crashed to the floor.
I sighed. I had no control over this ‘gift’ and not much time to gain any. I sat on the edge of the bed with the violin Adrian had run out to pick up earlier. I lifted it and tried to imagine what it would’ve been like to be Mary. To be me.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled the bow across the strings. The air in my lungs felt suddenly strange, and my heart fluttered. It didn’t sound as bad as I would’ve thought. It only sounded uncertain. But the more I gave myself to it, the smoother the melody carried. The same melody Mary had played. It was alive in me.
Once I finished, I felt refreshed. Energized. Charles and Adrian were staring.
“What was that?” Charles asked.
“I—I don’t know.”
Adrian nodded his approval. “Perhaps that song had been your calling. Many humans called to become elementals have one. Though I must say it’s strange yours would be the violin.”
“Why?”
Adrian frowned and shook his head. “Let’s not concern ourselves with this right now. It would make no difference to what lies ahead.”
Something felt off about his tone, but I knew trying to push more information from Adrian would be a waste. I shrugged it off. I didn’t know what the song was. I’d never played before—not in this lifetime—but a new passion ignited within me. Now all I needed to do was control the energy.
Thinking it would probably be best to work with something sturdier than a pencil, I grabbed a pen from the kitchen junk drawer and, this time, focused with a destination in mind: moving the pen from the ground to the table. The pen hovered for a moment before falling.
It was Ivory’s words to Abigail that finally helped: Believe in this. With new determination, I tried again. This time the pen floated up from the floor and over to the table, my energy bleeding out as I lowered it to the table’s surface. It dropped the last inch, rolled a tiny bit, and came to a stop.
Excitement drummed inside me. I can do this. It was totally unreal, thrilling, and terrifying all at the same time. I wished I could bask in my amazement, but reality crept back in—the why of my learning to use this skill. The knowing I’d only come to access this power because I’d stolen memories from a friend who tried to kill my boyfriend and that I had to use it because I needed to save my boyfriend’s family from being murdered.
For the next hour, I worked until I was too drained to try any more. It was already ten, the last three hours like a small eternity of their own.
I needed a break. And a chance to say goodbye to Lauren, before it was too late.
Chapter 23
WHEN I ARRIVED AT LAUREN’S, she was sitting on her front porch beneath the overhang, the porch light revealing her thick black hair tied back in a silken ponytail. We’d sat together on each other’s front porches many times before, but, right now, we might as well have been strangers. There was no place for me in her world, not anymore.
I plopped down beside her, staring at the small apartment complex across the street. Clouds hovered low in the sky above, heavy with unspent rain. Moisture thickened the air, and the pressure weighed on my bones.
Lauren nudged her shoulder into mine. “Everything okay?”
A painful sensation knotted in the back of my throat. “Isn’t it funny how cardinals don’t fly south? Colorado gets pretty cold, and they’re so small.”
“Oh, Sophia,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know you two were friends.”
“Who?”
“Ivory,” she said. “She told me last night she was moving. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“Last night?” Ivory couldn’t have told her last night.
Lauren opened her hands and splayed her fingers. “She left a letter in my mailbox. I just assumed she’d told you.”
Ah. Paloma was covering her bases. “I haven’t checked my mail today. That must be why I didn’t know.”
Way to sound upset, Sophia.
“Things won’t be the same without her,” I added, trying to sound sincere. Unfortunately, the inflection didn’t reach my tone. “Did she say why she left?”
Lauren shrugged. “Said she had a job offer in Boston and that she hated to leave like this, but she had to catch the first plane out and didn’t want to wake me. I’m surprised she even bothered to tell me. She hasn’t been much of a friend.”
I fidgeted with my charm bracelet, focusing on the small violin charm. “Neither have I.”
Lauren smiled. “Of course you have.”
“No,” I said. “I haven’t.”
My voice sounded shakier than I would have liked. How would she react to the news? She didn’t care Ivory had left, but that was only because they’d never gotten along.