Chapter 21 Snow Sharks #2
“Maybe try visualizing something... pleasant?” Dash suggested from a safe distance. After yesterday’s incident, all nine men had developed a newfound appreciation for personal space.
“Like what? Puppies? Rainbows? My parents actually picking up their fucking phones?” I pulled my phone from my pocket and glared at it for the hundredth time. Still nothing. I was on day two of calls, texts, and increasingly unhinged voicemails, and radio silence from the North Pole’s first couple.
Pierce exchanged glances with Don. “The veil’s interference makes communication spotty at best, even with Frostlink.”
“Spotty would be an improvement. This is a black hole.” I shoved my phone back into my pocket, where it sat like a useless brick.
“And don’t tell me they don’t know I’m here.
You guys have a weird telepathic reindeer network, right?
Someone must have told Santa his daughter is having a complete magical meltdown twenty miles from his workshop. ”
Vix cleared his throat. “Actually, we can’t exactly—”
The snow beneath him rose suddenly, twisting into a serpentine shape that lunged toward his head. He yelped and jumped backward, tripping over Dane and landing on his ass in a snowdrift.
“Sorry!” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to unthink whatever thought had triggered snow snakes. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
When I opened my eyes, the snake had collapsed back into harmless powder, but three more were forming around me, slithering in sinister patterns.
Blitz whistled. “That’s pretty badass. Can you make them bigger?”
“I don’t know how I’m making them at all!”
As if responding to my frustration, the snakes grew, elongating into something between pythons and anacondas, their icy bodies reflecting the weak light.
Kip shuffled backward. “Can you think about something else? Literally anything else?”
I tried to focus on something harmless like vacation, palm trees, and the ocean.
Blitz’s scream shattered my concentration. Where the snakes had been, now half a dozen triangular fins cut through the snow, circling us like we were chum in the water.
“Are those—”
“Snow sharks.” Don watched with scientific interest as one fin changed direction and headed straight for him. He sidestepped it easily.
The fins picked up speed, creating furrows in the snow as they raced around us. A laugh bubbled up in my throat at the absolute absurdity until one fin veered sharply, the snow rising in a wave that formed a gaping maw of icy teeth that chomped down on Blitz’s calf.
“Motherfucker!” Blitz jumped, clutching his leg. The shark dissolved into powder, but Blitz’s grimace remained. “That stung!”
My stomach dropped. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…” My words got stuck as a lump rose in my throat. The last thing I wanted was for any of them to get hurt.
The remaining sharks froze mid-circle, then collapsed all at once. I stared at the mess I’d created, fighting back tears of frustration. “This is pointless. Everything I try turns into a disaster.”
Cole approached cautiously, brushing snow from his pants. “Your magic responds to your emotions, and right now you’re operating from a place of anger and frustration.”
“No kidding.” I caught sight of Rudy standing apart from the group, arms crossed, watching with that infuriating stoic expression. Yesterday, he’d seemed almost human, taking my hands, talking about trust. Today he was back to the silent judgment routine.
“We need to anchor you in positive emotions,” Cole continued. “Joy seems to be your strongest conduit for controlling your magic.”
I tore my eyes away from Rudy. “That’s fantastic advice. I’ll just feel joyful on command while freezing my ass off in the middle of nowhere, with no word from my parents, surrounded by men who keep telling me I’m amazing when I can’t even make a decent snowball.”
Cole’s mouth twitched. “When you put it that way...”
“And I can’t feel joy with him standing over there like some judgmental ice statue.” I jabbed a finger toward Rudy. “Every time I try to do something, I can feel him watching, waiting for me to fail.”
Rudy’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent. Typical.
A grin spread across Kip’s face, which was never a good sign when it came to him. “I think we’re overthinking this. Magic lessons don’t have to be so serious.”
“Did you miss the part where I sent snow sharks after everyone?” I gestured to Blitz, who was still rubbing his leg.
“I didn’t miss it; I thought it was awesome.” Kip’s eyes sparkled. “Your magic wants to play. So let’s play with it instead of trying to wrangle it into submission.”
Rudy finally spoke, his deep voice carrying across the snow. “This isn’t a game, Kip.”
“Maybe it should be.” Kip winked at me. “Cole and I can work with her alone for the rest of the day. No pressure, no audience, no... intensity.”
The last word was clearly aimed at Rudy, whose eyebrows drew together in disapproval. “That’s not—”
“I think Kip might be onto something,” Don interrupted. “Neve’s magic responds best when she’s relaxed and enjoying herself. Remember the dome?”
Pierce nodded. “And the snowball fight.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and for a moment, I could have sworn tiny sparks danced across my fingertips.
Rudy’s gaze flicked to my hands, then back to my face. Something unreadable passed through his eyes before he scoffed and turned away. “Fine. Do what you want.”
He strode off toward the trees, shoulders rigid. The rest of the herd exchanged looks, then followed him with varying levels of reluctance.
Soon only Kip, Cole, and I remained in the clearing, the silence stretching between us until Kip clapped his hands together.
“Well, this is going to be fun.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Your definition of fun needs serious recalibration.”
Cole’s mouth curved into a smile. “Give us a chance. I think you’ll be surprised.”
I smiled back. “All right, reindeer games. Show me what you’ve got.”