To Love A Witch

Chapter 9

  

Romy grumbled as she lurched up a sad excuse for a trail. No one had bothered to mention that there was a mile-long hike to get onto Tabletop Rock, and most of it was uphill.
Kids who spent their formative years in juvie tended to either love or hate being in the outdoors. Give her a good theater any day. She appreciated wide-open spaces, she just preferred to navigate them with motorized assistance.
Or a cute guy and his flying bike… She hushed her traitorous mind. Jake was a lot of the reason she was hiking up some forsaken rock in the wee hours of the morning to throw around fireballs.
The trail suddenly leveled, and she could see Carla waving. “Good morning, did you enjoy your hike?”
Romy tried to sound more cheerful than she felt. “Nice view. I didn’t see you on the trail; how long have you been up here?”
Carla laughed and handed her a bagel. “Oh, I didn’t hike up. Jake flew me in just a few minutes ago. I have coffee to go with these bagels; it should still be hot.”
“He flew you?” Romy spluttered. “How come I had to walk up—what is this, witch boot camp?”
“I’m sorry, mia cara, but he said you weren’t comfortable on his bike right now.”
Romy tried not to whine, and then gave up. “If it was a choice between that and a crack-of-dawn hike, I might have chosen the flying.”
Carla looked up at the mid-morning sun and handed her a coffee. “Not a morning person, I’m guessing.”
True, but she wasn’t usually an uber-grump either. “Sorry, this whole magic thing has me nervy.”
“You’ve spent your entire life trying to make the magic go away. You’ll see how much easier it is to work with what’s inside you, instead of against it.”
Romy pictured weeks of early morning hikes and groaned. “And how long will that take?”
Carla shrugged and patted the rock beside her, motioning for Romy to sit. “Oh, an hour or two. No more than that unless you’re outrageously stubborn, but even then, we’ll be out of here in time for lunch.”
For the first time in her life, that whole jaw-dropping-to-the-floor thing made literal sense. “You can teach me how to control my magic in a couple of hours?”
“It’s not really teaching,” Carla said, looking sad. “It’s just helping you to access what you already know. That’s part of why Jake is so angry about what happened to you. It would have taken so little help to prevent it.”
“I know he’s angry so many kids were abandoned.” It was easier to think of Jake’s temper kicking on behalf of someone else. Lots of someone elses.
“Oh, they all make him mad. But Jake isn’t one of those people who tends to rail against the system on principle. This is personal for him. You made it personal.”
Romy opted for naked honesty. “I don’t really know how to feel about that.”
“I know, mia cara. And that’s just one of many things we need to fix. But first things first. I don’t want you sending my boy up in flames the next time he flies you in a loop or tries to kiss you.”
There had been far too many people talking about her kissing Jake lately. And her still traitorous head thought it sounded like a fine idea. Sure, let’s kiss the sexy witch—there were so many ways that could end badly.
Since they’d somehow drifted onto the one topic that made her more uncomfortable than magic, Romy headed back to safer ground. “So, where do I find my inner instruction manual that knows how to tame these fireballs?”
Carla tossed a ball of light from palm to palm. “That depends how much you trust me.”
“To feed me, entirely. Beyond that, you need to explain what you have in mind.”
“A skeptical witch, are you? Good.” Carla sent her ball of light upward and turned it into fireworks. “There are two ways we can do this. Kind of like teaching a child to tie their shoes. You can sit and talk them through it, but that’s confusing, and requires lots of trial and error. Or you can put your hands over the child’s hands, and guide. Faster, easier, but it requires some trust.”
Cute, but shoes weren’t fireballs. “That just seems like a good way to get us both scorched.”
Carla’s eyes flashed. “You don’t think I can handle your fire?” She stood up and backed away several steps. “Go ahead, hit me with whatever you have.”
Well there’s a shocker, thought Romy. The Italian fire witch has a temper. “I can’t handle my fire—is it really so shocking I don’t trust anyone else to, either?”
Carla stared for a second, and then sat back down. “See that rock over there, the one that’s standing on end?”
Romy saw it. The top of Tabletop was littered with smaller rocks. This one was covered in long, black lines.
“If things head out of control, you just fire away at that rock. It can take a few more scorch marks. I use it for target practice all the time.”
“Target practice?”
“I’m Italian. I have a temper and a husband who’s not perfect. When he pisses me off, I come beat up on the rock.” Carla’s voice gentled. “You’re not the only witch who has a hard time with her magic and strong emotions. You can borrow my rock any time you need to. For now, I’m asking you to trust that you can’t produce anything the rock and I can’t handle.”
Romy wasn’t sure during what part of bagels and conversation she’d decided to let Carla help, but apparently she had. “Okay. What do I do?”
“Close your eyes. I’ll cast a small spell to help our magic connect. Then we’ll make a little ball of light.”
Romy closed her eyes and hoped neither of them lived to regret this.
“I ask the power of fire and light,
Join we two in inner sight.
The magic inborn and its flows,
What her blood already knows,
Let willing heart and mind to see.
As I will, so mote it be.”
Romy felt a jerk inside, and then a gentle warmth she somehow knew was Carla’s guiding hands. There were no words, just a quiet murmur of sound.
And then there was a web glowing inside her body, streaming lines of starbright power. Romy didn’t have to be told she was seeing the magic that lived in her. Carla’s mental hands over hers, Romy followed the streaming lines that ran to her fingers.
A moment of fear—this is where the sparks lived. A touch to reassure. Slowly, ever so slowly, she let the streaming lines reach beyond her fingertips and asked them to curl around.
When Romy opened her eyes, a small ball of light sat in her palm.
“Your Gran would be proud,” Jake said.
Crap. Sparks flew in Romy’s hands, and she grabbed desperately for control.
Carla turned around and sent a fireball blazing into the ground a foot from Jake’s toes. “Do you not know any better than to sneak up on a fire witch? Idiot man, have I taught you nothing?”
She turned back to Romy. “I take it back. Feel free to use him for target practice.”
Romy’s fingers clenched with the effort to hold in her fire. The ball of light was gone, and her heart ached from the one small moment of magic freed.
“Do it again,” Jake said, moving closer. “Do it while you’re angry and fighting for control.”
“I can’t.” And she couldn’t hold it much longer, either.
Jake crouched down and cradled her face in his hands. “You can. Magic lives in you. Be with it; make it yours.”
Romy wasn’t sure what she saw in his eyes, but it pushed on her to believe. Reaching her hands up over his, she closed her eyes and tried to see the web. All she saw were sparking ends, like someone had come and attacked her power lines with boxcutters.
She felt Jake’s hands on her face. Magic lived in them, just as it lived in her.
The magic was hers to embrace and command. He believed it, and for a heartbeat, she did too. That was just long enough.
Romy reached her hands to the sky and felt the sparking ends snap back into place. Power poured up through her arms and out her fingers. Just like before, she asked the magic to curl and form a ball. This time when she opened her eyes, an orb the size of a house hung over her head.
Her entire body vibrated with the zing of magic unleashed and unafraid.
“Holy shit,” said Jake. “The newspaper’s going to be printing stories about UFO sightings again.”
Romy went with her impulse. She leaned in and kissed him.