Chapter 21 Snow Sharks
Snow Sharks
We trudged through knee-deep snow toward a wide-open clearing bordered by enormous pines as the sun peeked over the horizon.
It was content to hover there like an indecisive houseguest who couldn’t commit to fully arriving or leaving.
At this latitude in November, the pathetic glow was apparently as good as it got.
“Could we do this training thing inside? Where there’s heat and coffee and better light?” I flailed my arms toward the floodlights mounted outside the cabin that seemed to struggle against the persistent semi-darkness.
Pierce adjusted his beanie. “Magic like yours needs space. Preferably outdoors, where if something goes unexpectedly, we won’t destroy the cabin.”
“That’s super reassuring, thanks.” I shoved my gloved hands deeper into my pockets and tried not to look at Rudy, who walked several paces ahead with Don, their heads bent in serious conversation.
Rudy had barely glanced at me since our confrontation yesterday, and the petty part of me was determined to match his indifference. The less petty part was busy composing elaborate, cutting speeches I’d never deliver.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I yanked it out with embarrassing eagerness, hoping to see my parents’ names on the screen. Nothing. Well, except for a low battery warning, which was splendid considering I’d just charged it. Apparently, being close to the veil led to electronic malfunctions.
I’d tried calling my parents three times since learning the truth, but each attempt went unanswered.
Were they avoiding me? Did they even know I was here?
Maybe they were in some remote part of the North Pole where service was spotty.
Did the North Pole even have regular service?
Or were they sitting around a cozy fire, staring at my name on their caller ID and debating what lie to tell me next?
Dash fell into step beside me. “You look like you’re plotting murder.”
“I’m processing the fact that my parents have been lying to me my entire life and now won’t pick up the phone.”
Kip appeared on my other side, brushing snow from his shoulders. “They sent you away to protect you.”
“Yeah, well, they could have protected me and told me the truth. Or, I don’t know, helped me control my apparently destructive magic instead of pretending it didn’t exist.” The snow around my boots crystallized into jagged patterns, and I couldn’t tell if it was me that caused it or something else.
“Someone tried, I think. I remember a man... not my dad... trying to teach me, but he was kind of an asshole about it.”
We reached the center of the clearing, where Rudy and Don had stopped. The rest of the men formed a loose circle around me, and I fought the urge to shield myself from their expectant gazes.
Cole unfolded a blanket and placed it on the snow. “Sit.”
“I’m not a dog.” I eyed the blanket dubiously. “And won’t my ass freeze?”
Vix winked. “I’ll warm it up for you later.”
I rolled my eyes but sat, crossing my legs and trying to ignore how the cold immediately seeped through my leggings. “So how does this work? Do I get a wand or some magic words or, oh! I want a sword!”
The men exchanged glances that did nothing for my confidence.
Don knelt beside me. “First, we need to understand your baseline. Close your eyes and focus on your breathing.”
I closed my eyes, shivering slightly.
“Inhale for four counts, hold for seven, exhale for eight.” Don’s deep voice guided me through several rounds of breathing that seemed to be random counts he was pulling out of his ass. “Now, visualize your magic as energy flowing through your body. Where do you feel it strongest?”
I tried to focus, but all I felt was cold and a growing irritation at Rudy’s silent presence somewhere to my left. “I don’t feel anything except my toes freezing and one of my pussy lips going numb.”
Don’s patience remained unshakable. “Try again. Think of a moment when your magic activated. Like when you made the ice dome.”
I recalled the exhilaration of creating the structure, the way power had surged through my fingertips. A pleasant warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading outward.
“There,” I whispered, rubbing the center of my chest. “It feels like... sparklers under my skin.”
Blitz clapped. “Good! Now try to direct that feeling toward your hands.”
I concentrated, picturing the energy flowing down my arms. For a moment, I felt a tingling in my palms… then nothing.
“It disappeared.” I opened my eyes with a frustrated huff.
Pierce squatted in front of me. “Emotion seems to be your trigger. Think of something that makes you happy.”
Happy. Right. Because I had so many cheerful thoughts to choose from lately.
I closed my eyes again, searching for a joyful memory. Decorating cookies. Ice skating. The snowball fight. The magical dome and what happened inside it.
Heat flushed through me, and I heard gasps.
My eyes flew open to find a miniature blizzard swirling around me, confined to a three-foot radius.
“Holy shit.” I raised my hands, watching snowflakes dance around my fingers.
Dane’s eyes widened. “Try to make it bigger.”
I focused on expanding the swirl, but as soon as I tried to control it, the snow collapsed into a sad little pile at my feet.
“Damn it!” Frost crackled across the blanket beneath me.
Kip brushed snow from his hair. “Don’t force it. Magic responds to intention, not demand.”
“What does that even mean?” I stood, shaking out my stiff legs. “This is pointless. I can’t control it.”
Rudy finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through my frustration. “You’re not trying.”
The temperature around me plummeted. “Excuse me?”
“You’re wallowing in self-pity instead of focusing.” His eyes met mine, indifferent as stone. “Your magic responds to your emotions, but you’re letting your emotions control you instead of the other way around.”
Snow began sliding across the ground toward him, forming sinister little vortexes. “You know nothing about what I’m feeling.”
“Don’t I?” One eyebrow rose in challenge. “Confused. Angry. Betrayed. Scared of your own power. Wondering if you’ll hurt someone again.”
Each word hit like a physical blow. The ground beneath us trembled slightly.
Pierce stepped between us. “We should take a break.”
“No.” I stepped around him, facing Rudy directly. “You think you know me so well? Fine. Tell me how I’m supposed to control something I didn’t even know existed until a week ago.”
“Stop fighting it.” Rudy’s expression softened. “Your magic isn’t separate from you. It’s part of you.”
“A part that nearly destroyed a workshop and hurt people.” My voice caught. “What if I can’t control it?”
“You can.” Cole’s voice drew my attention. “We’ve all seen glimpses of it. When you’re not overthinking.”
Don nodded. “Like the dome. You didn’t plan that, you just reacted.”
“Great, so my magic works best when I’m not trying to use it. Super helpful.” I kicked at the snow, watching it scatter. “And let’s not forget that my dad, the actual Santa Claus, hasn’t bothered to call me back. Maybe he’s still afraid I’ll blow up the North Pole if I come home.”
The sky darkened above us, clouds gathering unnaturally fast. My hands tingled, ice crystals forming on my fingertips.
Vix whistled low. “Uh, guys, we might want to…”
A bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, followed immediately by thunder that shook the ground.
Blitz’s eyes widened. “That’s new.”
Panic clawed at my throat. “I’m not doing that. Am I doing that?”
Another lightning bolt, closer this time. The hair on my arms stood on end beneath my jacket.
“Everyone back!” Rudy’s command sent the others retreating several paces.
Everyone except him.
He moved toward me instead, his expression unreadable as the wind whipped around us, forming a miniature cyclone of snow.
“Stay back.” I raised my hands, ice forming in my palms. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” He stepped closer, snowflakes swirling between us.
“You don’t know that!” The ice in my hands grew, jagged and dangerous. “I can’t control this!”
“Then don’t control it.” He was close enough now that I could see the flecks of silver in his eyes. “Feel it instead.”
The storm intensified, lightning illuminating Rudy’s face in stark flashes. Yet he continued forward, undeterred.
“What are you doing?” My voice was barely audible over the howling wind.
“Trusting you.” He reached for my ice-covered hands.
“Don’t—” I tried to pull away, but his fingers closed around mine.
The moment we touched, everything stopped. The wind died. The lightning ceased. The clouds dissipated as quickly as they’d formed, leaving only the weak arctic twilight and my ragged breathing.
Rudy’s hands were warm around my frozen ones, steady and strong. The ice melted between our palms, dripping onto the snow below.
“How did you do that?” I whispered, staring at our joined hands.
“I didn’t.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “You did.”
For a moment, we stood like that, connected and still. Then Rudy released my hands and stepped back, his expression closing off again.
“That’s enough for today.” He turned away, addressing the others. “She needs rest.”
I stared at my hands, still tingling from Rudy’s touch. For a moment, I’d felt complete control, not by forcing my magic to obey, but by simply letting it exist alongside me.
And all it had taken was Rudy’s touch.
The same Rudy who now walked away without looking back, leaving me standing alone in the snow, more confused than ever.
I kicked at the snow, watching it spray upward in a pathetic arc before landing with a disappointing plop.
It was a truly fitting metaphor for my abilities.
Yesterday I’d created a freaking magical lightning storm.
Today, I couldn’t even make a decent snowball without it turning into something with teeth.