Chapter 13 #3
By the time my session with Tariq was winding down, I doubted we had accomplished anything.
It was then that he magicked some brussels sprout, probably from the greenhouse on the roof.
To my mind, there was no worse vegetable in the history of vegetables, so my enthusiasm was nonexistent when he told me to dip one into our steaming cauldron.
I held the base between my fingers and dipped the bitter ball of yuck into the potion. When I pulled it out, it looked exactly the same. I’d rather been expecting it to transform into a chocolate truffle, but no. Clearly, I had failed.
“Oh, man, I swear I did everything you said.” My voice came out in a whine that annoyed even me.
“Taste it.” Tariq gestured to the sprout. I frowned and he said, “Trust the process.”
I resisted the urge to hold my nose as I lifted the sprout to my lips.
I opened my mouth reluctantly, as if he’d asked me to eat a cockroach.
I expected to chomp through the hard, bitter little leaves, but instead, it was like biting into a luscious, creamy bonbon of dark chocolate filled with mousse.
I covered my mouth with my free hand while the chocolate melted in my mouth. “Are you kidding me?”
“That’s how my gran got me to eat my vegetables.” His eyes twinkled and his laugh was pure joy.
“What am I missing?” Jasper asked as he entered the room.
“Tariq is being an alchemist and turning vegetables into something better than gold.” I finished my first sprout and reached for another.
“Have you made your chocolate masking potion again?” Jasper asked.
“It is my specialty,” Tariq said.
Jasper turned to me. “He makes it every year for the Christmas party. It’s essentially the best fondue ever.”
“I’ll say.” I held out a sprout to him. Jasper didn’t hesitate and immediately dipped his sprout in the potion and popped it into his mouth. The three of us decimated the small pile of sprouts in no time.
I sighed when they were all gone, thinking I could have easily eaten another half dozen.
Then I had a terrible thought. “Miles said that he was going to talk to me tomorrow about the laws of magic. He said there is a law of balance and that every magical act has a consequence. What would be the consequence here?”
Tariq gestured to the empty bowl where the sprouts had been. “That you will eat too much and get really sick.”
That made sense. I nodded and said, “Totally worth it.”
We left Tariq to his work, and Jasper and I grabbed our coats and trudged up the stairs to the rooftop. Because he was a field operative, he didn’t have an official office in the BODO, so he’d decided the roof was the safest place for me to practice energy manipulation.
When we arrived at the top of the narrow steps, I was pleased I wasn’t gasping for breath as per usual. The late-autumn wind was bitterly cold and whipping across the roof. To my relief, Jasper gestured to the greenhouse. “Let’s practice in there.”
We scurried across the roof, closing the glass door behind us. Jasper shrugged out of his coat and draped it over a wooden bench beside the entrance. I did the same with mine.
“Let’s practice some deep breathing,” Jasper said. “You want to quiet your mind as much as possible before we begin.”
Meditation. I was not a fan. I found it difficult to be still and even more challenging to keep my brain from shouting out random thoughts like It’s hot in here.
I’m going to start sweating. Is he sweating?
No, he’s just hot. Stop it, Ziakas! Unprofessional.
And so on. It seemed the harder I tried to clear my mind, the louder it shouted.
“Come on now, Zoe,” Jasper said. “The same thing we did yesterday. Close your eyes and breathe in for eight, hold for four, and out for eight.”
I did this three times and opened my eyes. “It’s as clear as it’s going to get in here.” I tapped my temple with a finger.
“Excellent,” Jasper said. “As you know, our objective with energy manipulation is to build up your magical sensitivity and help you draw the power into yourself so you can harness it for your desired outcome.”
“Because magic is based on energy,” I said, repeating what he had told me the day before. “And energy is in everything. I get it in theory. I just don’t know how to tap into it.”
“I’ll show you.” Jasper approached a large potted orange tree.
It was loaded with fruit that was still green.
Jasper cupped one of the oranges and narrowed his gaze as he focused on it.
While I watched, the fruit swelled, filling his hand, and turned a vibrant shade of orange. He plucked it and handed it to me.
“How?” I raised it to my nose and inhaled its sweet citrus scent.
“It’s simple but does require a clear mind and lots of practice,” he said. “Care to give it a go?”
I tucked the orange into my pants pocket and stepped toward the tree.
I chose one of the larger oranges, thinking it wouldn’t take as much concentration to ripen it.
As Jasper had done, I stared at the fruit while trying to find that well of magic inside myself.
It felt like an empty closet. After a few moments, I dropped the fruit and tipped my head back.
“I’ve got nothing,” I said.
“You have something,” Jasper corrected me. “I can feel it.” He held out his hand as if feeling the air around me and I flinched. Why? What did I think he was going to do? He dropped his hand.
“Sorry,” we said at the same time. There was an awkward beat of silence and I knew the weirdness was all mine. I turned back to the tree and cupped the same orange. This time, I closed my eyes, determined to make this stupid fruit ripen if it was the last thing I did.
I felt it then. Not the warmth I usually felt when I reached for my own magic. No, this was different. This was coming from the orange, its leaves, the branch, the entire tree itself. It rolled through me in a gentle wave of power. It called to my own magic, which rose inside me to meet it.
I kept my eyes closed. I felt a smile curve my lips as I embraced the energy from the tree and then returned it to the fruit. I felt it swell in my hand as I pictured it ripening to a luscious orange hue in my mind.
“That’s it, love, you’re doing it!” Jasper sounded thrilled, and I felt a rush of pride swoop through me. “Uh, Zoe, you should probably—”
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the wet, meaty sound of an orange exploding right before I was sprayed with juice, pulp, and rind.
I blinked my eyes open and turned to see Jasper also covered in bits and blobs of orange.
And he was still ludicrously good-looking. How was that even possible?
“On the upside, you did manage to ripen it.” His eyes glinted and his mouth curved up.
I licked a bit of orange off my lips and debated chucking myself into the koi pond at the end of the greenhouse. There was no need. With a sweep of his hands, Jasper wiped us both clean of the orange detritus, and then in a tone as bossy as Olive’s, he said, “Again.”
· · ·
There were no more magical breakthroughs for me in any of my other lessons and I felt as if I was losing time on decoding the grimoire.
To make it up, I spent the evening in my pajamas, eating chips and dip while sitting on the floor beside the fire studying my notes on the symbols in the book.
The grimoire was open on the floor beside me.
I felt as if it was patiently waiting for me to unlock its secrets and I muttered, “Me, too, book. Me, too.”
I turned to a random page at the back of the grimoire and traced the symbols with my fingers. It occurred to me that it looked like a ledger, the neat symbols flowing down the page in two columns.
What would a grimoire belonging to a family of witches known for necromancy need a ledger for? Was it the names of the dead people who had been raised? Why would they need a list unless it was to keep track of them? Would I find Eloise’s name on this list?
My fingers stilled. I studied the most recent entries.
The ink was black and the handwriting tight and precise.
It reminded me of Mamie’s. I was certain she had made these notations.
I checked the last page, hoping to see my mother’s loopy handwriting, but it wasn’t there.
Mamie had been the last witch to write in the book.
I leaned back. A sharp pang of disappointment stabbed my chest. I had been hoping to find some sort of connection to my mother.
It was ridiculous given that she had dropped me off and moved on, but the girl inside me who’d been left behind still longed for her mom.
I glanced at the mug of tea on the hearth and desperately wished it were whiskey.
I picked up the grimoire and flipped to the very first page.
I placed my palm on the parchment and closed my eyes.
Given that the grimoire was a magical artifact and that magic was made up of energy, I wondered if there was a way I could call the grimoire’s magic into myself so that I could understand the book in a sort of magical osmosis.
It was a long shot, but what did I have to lose?
I sat there for a long time, feeling the heat of the fire at my back and the fragile paper beneath my fingers.
I was about to quit when I felt something, a low hum like an electrical current coursing through the book and into me.
Or was it from me into the book? I couldn’t tell.
Then the whispers started. Just like the first few nights when the book had talked to me in my sleep, I could hear the voices murmuring.
I felt my heart pound in my chest as I strained to make out the words.
I swallowed past my unease and willed myself to concentrate on the book.
The hum of energies and the whispers were reaching an apex when I heard a ruckus on my front porch.
If it was that damn raven again, I was going to get a cat—a very large cat.
I ignored the scuffling noise outside. Surely, the bird would realize I was not letting it into the house or offering it any food and go away.
I had just found the hum of energy between me and the grimoire again when the scuffle outside became a thunderous pounding on my door. It was the distinct sound of a fist repeatedly hammering the thick wood.
That was no bird. Wessex was a small village and if it was anyone I knew, they would have called out a greeting.
The angry banging stopped and I snatched up my phone as I rose to my feet.
A boom sounded against the door as if the person on the other side was trying to kick it open.
I grabbed the poker from the fireplace while unlocking my phone.
Another boom sounded and the door bent inward. I scuttled into the corner.
I managed to press a nine and a one just as my front door exploded.