Nix, her hands still in mine, chuckled as the argument heated. “If you hoped to distract them, that was probably the fastest way. Now,” she said, pressing my fingers harder against the box. Don’t feel the box. Feel what’s in the box. You can close your eyes if it helps with the distraction.”
I rolled my shoulders and tried to settle into my hips. I closed my eyes, made myself aware of my fingertips, the sensations of her cool fingers, the wooden box.
At first, there was nothing. It started slowly, a slow vibration beneath my fingers that felt like the humming of a machine. I thought it might be a nervous shake or some sort of trick of my nerves, something I should ignore while I reached for something deeper.
But the sensation only grew stronger, from a soft hum to a vibration that pulsed like a heartbeat.
“Good,” Nix whispered softly, like she was trying not to startle me, not to spook me like a nervous animal. “Good. You can feel the magic in the box, in the wood. To bind it, you must unite it. Use your magic to coax it. To push it.”
I wasn’t entirely sure how I was supposed to do that. So I opted for silent begging. Hey, little thread of magic. Do me a big favor and ooze your way into the wood, please?
I paused, hoped for a difference, but the vibrations were the same, and Nix hadn’t moved her hand. We weren’t done yet.
I assumed this was like trying to do back flips in the pool when I was younger, or like true love. I’d know it when it happened.
The Quinns were still bickering behind me, their words a low murmur of irritation. But that didn’t matter. They were not my concern. My concerns were this box, my magic, and my future. And those things were all tied together.
While Nix watched with mild curiosity, I looked down at the box, pressed my fingers against it again, closed my eyes until I could feel the box trembling again.
This time, I didn’t ask the magic to move. I made it. Not with words, really, but more like a wish. A really, really strong wish. A demand that it merge itself with the box in which I’d placed it, that they fuse together, be bound together because I ordered it.
The box grew instantly fire-hot.
Nix jerked her hand away, and I did the same, holding my fingers out of reach in case the lid snapped down.
The box shook like it had been electrified, which I guessed wasn’t far from the truth if magic was a form of energy. After a few seconds of shuddering, it settled onto the floor again with a heavy thud.
The room had gone silent. I glanced over my shoulder, found Gavin and Liam standing beside each other, hands on their hips, staring at the little box. They looked a little bit impressed, and a little bit afraid. That was probably the safest combination for anyone confronted with magic.
And it made me feel spectacular.
I looked back at Nix. “I did it?”
“You did. Not especially elegantly, but you did it.”
I didn’t care if it was elegant or not. According to Nix, there were two things I had to do in order to avoid becoming a wraith: cast off the magic and bind it to something.
I’d done both of those things. The odds I’d become a wraith went down a little bit more. I just had to hope I had better control than poor Marla.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I was getting hungry, so we sent the Quinns downstairs to forage for food while Nix walked me through one more round of casting and binding.
At least the privacy gave me a chance to interrogate her a little. I was nosy. Blame it on a lack of television or radio. We had to make our own drama. New Orleans was plenty skilled at that.
I did the casting but made her wait for the binding. “Tell me about you and Gavin. Seems like you two have a history?”
“Binding first,” she said. “Talk later.”
“History first, or no binding.”
Nix sighed, sat back on her heels. “We met during the war. He believed he had feelings for me.”
That didn’t sound very romantic. Or mutual. “You didn’t feel the same?”
“We are not humans. Our emotional lives are different. We are tied to some part of the natural world—of our natural world. For me, trees. There is a connection there. A tether that lasts as long as we do.”
She dipped her head, looked at the floor as she continued to speak. “Because of it, commitment is very important to us. Gavin . . .” Her eyes went foggy as she stared blankly at the floor, eyes tracing back and forth as if she was watching some memory unfold. “He is young, and commitment is not his forte.” She smiled a little. “He likes projects, but not finishing them.”
“He was unfaithful?” I asked quietly.
Nix lifted her head, laughed charmingly. “Not at all. He is curious. He is brave. He believes he loves me. But he rebels against his family, against his name. Because of that, he is not yet convinced of who he is.”
She was being pretty vague, but I thought I had a sense of the picture. “You refused him?”
“I did. The time was not right for either of us. He has much life to lead. And even when he is ready, the time may never be right.” She shrugged. “That’s the way of things.”
It was a depressing way, but since she’d lived a life very different from mine, I didn’t think it was fair to judge.