6. No One Likes A Kiss-ass
No One Likes A Kiss-ass
Ash is right about it snowing today, and that puts me in a pissy mood. Not the snow itself—for a Fire witch I’m actually quite fond of snow.
No, I’m just pissed off he was right about something.
The hulking brute.
He does, however, stay away from my booth after he gets my phone number, which is both a blessing and a curse. Being so close to him is weakening my defenses.
I step into my old Victorian home at the end of the day with exhaustion weighing me down. I practically collapse on the carpet in the foyer.
Until I smell lasagna.
The best thing about Noah? His Nonna Ricci. I’ve never met her myself, but he frequently brings her food to the house—and Lord Almighty that woman is a saint. Blessed by the heavens to be the best cook in the world.
Which I would never mention in Grandma’s presence.
I follow my nose to the kitchen to find Noah draped around Hazel’s back, kissing her neck as she pretends to wave him off.
A pang of jealousy rises up to catch in my throat. Hazel has everything now. I don’t even recognize us anymore.
She has a soulmate she’s entirely unafraid of being in a relationship with, despite the overwhelming evidence she’s being dumb as fuck for having him in her life. She has a passion she’s making a business out of.
Just looking at her is a reminder of everything I don’t have. Including a good relationship with her.
“Can you two unglue yourselves for five minutes so I can get to the plates? I’m fucking starving,” I say, hand on my hip. Deflecting my emotions with borderline bitchy humor. How on brand for me.
Despite my words, Noah just smiles at me and leans his chin on top of Hazel’s head. “Plates are right there.”
How dare he not find me scary. I am bitch, hear me roar.
“Want to watch a movie while we eat? Might be a nice way to relax before training,” Hazel says, watching as I plate up dinner.
Sisterly bonding, how fun. As if I’m not still salty as fuck over her telling me her life with me was nothing.
She was unconscious for days after that stupid fucking daemon attack and when she woke up, something changed in her.
She finally told me exactly how she felt about me, after years of hiding behind a filter.
I only held her back. Everything she’d done for me meant nothing to her.
I left with her dried blood still lingering under my fingernails.
We haven’t processed that conversation or the fallout that followed, and I’m very much not ready to do so. Although a movie doesn’t require conversation, and do I really want to sit in my bedroom by myself?
Again?
Like I do every night?
“Fine, but if the movie sucks, I’m leaving.”
“Laura, why don’t you place a warming spell on the backyard?” Grandma asks. She set up the space in exactly the same way as she did for the first lesson while Hazel and I were finishing our movie, and this time there was no mention of setting foot in the shop. Thankfully.
I snort. “Right, because I know how to do that.”
“The entire point is that you will learn. And we learn by doing. Come here.” She holds her hand out to me, and I step forward to grab it. “Feel my magic reacting to yours. Take from my strength to strengthen yourself.”
Mom touched each of us right before she . . . Is this what she was doing?
Whatever. I close my eyes and take a breath. Warmth floods my body, rippling and sliding along my skin like a warm blanket or a favorite fuzzy sweater. A smile slowly stretches across my face. The sensation would be unsettling if it weren’t altogether comforting.
“Visualize,” Grandma says. “See in your mind’s eye what you want and manifest it.”
“Oh, we’re manifesting now, are we?” I snark.
“You would be if you would stop sassing me.”
Hazel’s snicker floats over from the porch.
As if I’m not already hyper-aware of what a failure at magic I am compared to Hazel. What a failure in everything. My anger flares to life, a bonfire blazing in my mind’s eye. I imagine the space filling with magic, with pure heat.
Warmth builds in my chest; a glow grows and grows until it reaches the far edges of the backyard. I don’t have to look, or check—I know I did it.
“Beautifully done, Laura. I had a feeling your magic would come naturally once you started lessons,” Grandma says, pride evident on her face.
Maybe I’m not a complete failure after all.
“Laura has a lot of natural talent at pretty much everything she tries.” Hazel approaches us, sitting on her pillow.
I roll my eyes. Does she even mean that? “No one likes a kiss-ass.”
Her face falls. I guess she genuinely meant it, but God I just cannot hear anything out of her mouth without wanting to snap at her.
We need so much fucking therapy.
“I’m a little hesitant to try meditation today after what happened last time,” Grandma admits as she and I join Hazel on our respective pillows.
The memory of the heat, the dehydration, tickles at my senses. I’d really rather not repeat that myself if possible.
“Instead.” She claps her hands. “We are going to focus on summoning. Hazel, you will demonstrate how you can summon air in your hands. I will demonstrate how I summon earth. And we will have Laura make her first attempts at summoning fire.”
This? This could be okay. No whispering magic, no unbearable heat. And fuck, I just did a pretty good job of heating the backyard. This will be a piece of cake.
“Sounds a lot more fun than making weird noises while sitting crisscross applesauce,” I reply.
And feeling like I’m burning alive. Much more fun than that.
“Right.” The look Grandma gives me is full of playful judgment, and I’ll be the first to admit I deserve it. “Hazel?”
Hazel adjusts herself on her fluffy pillow. She carries herself differently ever since she met Noah, with more surety. She knows exactly who she is now. Like I used to.
With a flourish of her hands, she conjures a small tornado in her palm. It whips and turns in its own small area, not disturbing anything else.
It’s cool. I guess.
“Wonderful, Hazel. Your speed with conjuring has improved significantly!”
I resist an eye roll.
Grandma lifts her hands in a similar motion, keeping one steady and one twirling above in a wave. Out of thin air, an orange poppy appears. The manifestation of the magic is a little different based on their elements, but the theory is the same. Create something where nothing existed before.
“Clear your mind and—” Grandma starts.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” I don’t need Grandma to tell me to connect to my element again. If anything, I’m too connected to the whispery fucker.
I lift my hands; the left is palm up and the right held above it, palm down. Nothing hard about it, just conjure fire out of literally nothing.
I close my eyes and listen to the crackle of the bonfire Grandma set just like last time. I am fire and fire is me, or something. Magic slips down my spine, running along my body like a comforting hand.
“Laura, that’s beautiful.” Hazel’s gasping breath makes me open my eyes.
Between my hands is a twisting blue flame. It licks at my right hand but doesn’t burn. It is kind of beautiful, actually. The way it undulates almost looks like it’s dancing, beckoning me closer.
I gaze at the fire, and there they are. The little indistinct whispers I always hear. Sometimes they’re quiet, sometimes they’re louder, but they’re always gibberish. Except when someone asks about the funeral.
About Mom.
I’m back in the heat. That sweltering, overwhelming chasm of darkness. I don’t see anything but the flame in front of me, don’t hear anything but the crackling roar of the fire.
Help.
HELP!
“Laura, come back now!” Grandma’s voice is far away, like she’s at the end of a long tunnel. I follow it. Just her voice, until I can feel her fingers on my temples and see the fear in her eyes.
The heat fades away.
It takes a few moments for the last vestiges of smoke to clear from my mind, for me to feel safe. And even when I’m finally convinced I’m not in the heat anymore, I don’t really feel that safe.
“What the hell is happening?” Hazel murmurs.
“Laura has to be ready to tell us,” Grandma replies. “And that will only happen on her own time.”
She’s being surprisingly nonchalant about this entire thing, and I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. She’d be full-on panicking if it were really bad, right?
“You both are under the impression I know what’s happening.” I meet their stares. Hazel looks back with frustration and Grandma with barely restrained amusement.
I’m glad one of us is having a good time.
“Maybe if you talk us through it, we can help you figure it out.” Hazel scootches a little closer, her green eyes lighting up. “We’re stronger together.”
“Are we?” I snort. “I’m pretty sure nobody here but Grandma knows what they’re actually doing.”
Grandma lifts a hand. “Are you ready to tell us, Laura, or would you like to end our lesson here for the evening?”
Am I ready to tell them? For some reason, it feels like I’m opening up to them in a way I haven’t before. I’m not a super vulnerable person in general, but telling them about the visions—if that’s even what they are—will lead to telling them about the whispering.
And the whispering is mine.
I shake my head, pointedly not looking in Hazel’s direction. I don’t want to see the disappointment in her face, or the rejection.
This isn’t about her.
I stand and walk back inside, determined not to feel guilty about doing what feels right to me.
“I have cheesecake.” Noah’s voice comes from the left and I swear I jump seven feet out of my skin.
My hand flies to my chest. “Fuck, we need to get you a bell or something!”
His smile is almost infectious. He’s too happy—it should annoy me, but it doesn’t for some reason. “I was thinking about getting Rosie one, maybe I’ll get one for myself, too.”
“Good.” I walk toward the kitchen. “Where’s the cheesecake?”
We plate it up in silence. Hazel and Grandma haven’t come inside yet. They’re probably discussing me again. They love to plot.
Well, they can plot and be shady, and I’ll enjoy cheesecake.
“Noah, how does it feel to be the only normal guy in a family of witches?” I ask. It’s got to be an interesting dynamic . . . More entertaining than any trashy reality TV show, that’s for sure.
“I can’t pretend it was an easy thing to come to terms with. You saw how I reacted.” The guilt is written clear across his face.
I swallow a bite. Oof, this woman has to be a witch. “You reacted that way because of the lying, not the magic. At least that’s how I heard it.”
“That’s a fair point, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that the magic tripped me out, too. It’s a lot to swallow. But a nerd finding out that there’s magic in this world? I’m definitely cool with it.”
“Yeah, I guess magic would be kind of your dream, huh?”
He shrugs. “Hazel is my dream. The magic is just fun.”
He’s so open with his affection when it comes to my sister, even when she’s not in the room. It’s easy. No games or manipulation.
He just loves her. My heart throbs at the purity of it. At how easy it is for them to love each other.
“And the soulmate thing?” I’m not sure why I’m even asking him, to be honest. Not like I have a soulmate I’m avoiding but somehow spending time with tomorrow morning on a not-date.
Couldn’t be me.
He smiles. “It’s pretty awesome, to be honest. But that might be because it’s Hazel. She’s my future.”
“You really don’t mind the whole constant danger thing?”
“Nothing is for certain.” He makes deliberate eye contact with me. “Nothing is a given. And I would rather spend a few days with her than a lifetime without her.”
Goosebumps raise along my arms at the seriousness in his tone. At the pure love in his voice. The devotion.
It sounds a lot like the few memories I have of Dad with Mom.
“Did you know something was different with her? Even before she told you what you were to each other?”
“Oh yeah. It was obvious.” His eyes trail to the window, lighting up when they find her outside.
“I knew the second I laid eyes on her that she was different. I thought it was weird at first, how quickly we connected. I even asked her if she’d ever felt anything like this.
But that soulmate bond goes both ways. I want her just as much as she wants me. ”
Does Ash want me just as much as I want him? In my determination to keep him safe, I may have ignored how he is feeling. Noah is making me realize that pushing Ash away may be even harder than I thought.
He laughs. “Well, that’s a face. Soulmate troubles?”
“Would you keep your voice down?” I practically whisper-screech. “Of course not. I don’t have a soulmate.”
His amusement is clear as he leans against the kitchen counter. “Of course not. It’s definitely not a family thing that you all share.”
I pout.
“I won’t say anything to Hazel.”
“Oh, bullshit!” I laugh. “You tell her everything. She just has to give you a look and you melt at her feet like an obedient puppy. You, sir, are the very definition of golden retriever vibes.”
He shrugs. “I am what I am.”
It’s hard to be mad at a sunshine puppy. But I may have just spilled the beans about my soulmate problem to the one person I don’t want to talk to about this.
Okay, the second. I don’t want to talk to Ash or Hazel.
Or Grandma.
Or anyone.