Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
It’s been three weeks, and we’ve been in this town for the past week, jumping from safe house to safe house.
A couple of days here, a couple of days there.
I like it here in this town. It’s magical.
The powerful signatures of the creatures around us make the hairs on my neck stand proud.
Scary, but in a good way. If something kicked off here, there’d be a lot of creatures, powerful creatures, dealing with it.
That’s probably why we’re here.
I’m at the wax-on, wax-off stage of training. If I hadn’t seen Karate Kid, I’d be very disappointed. All Owen keeps going on about is muscle memory and the correct form. And there’s a proper form for everything.
Forrest has made me go on an exercise bike and run. Next time I have to run for my life, I’ll do it a bit faster and be able to breathe at the end.
When I told them in all seriousness that I could use magic to improve my speed and strength, they both laughed.
Forrest explained that fighting would be the ultimate last resort and that cardio was king. I needed to learn to run away, move out of the way, block, and run. She has this mantra: “What do you do?” and I answer, “Block and run.” When I asked her if she blocked and ran, she gave me a crazy smile.
It’s her job to run towards the fights.
The bodyguard information consists of the following: We deal with the problem, you find a safe space and ward, and we’ll get to you. The central theme is: Do not help us. If you get in the way, you’ll get us killed. Run and hide.
When an expert—a hellhound—tells you to run and hide, you better do it.
I’m learning to be a good body to guard, and I’m getting physically stronger. I’m not a warrior—that is apparent—but if I keep training, I’m not a soft target either, even if I’m bolting for the hills.
Forrest bounces on her toes and gives me a big grin. “Come on, dragon girl, come on.” She does the fight-me hand wave—the one that’s in all the martial arts movies. “Come on.”
I groan and slump to the floor. I’m a sweaty mess, and this is just…
“Ugh, I think I can feel every single muscle in my body, and they’re all complaining.
” For the past couple of weeks, I’ve done everything without a peep of complaint, and the number of times I’ve used my healing charm—I’ve even tweaked it so it gets into the muscles first.
“Come on. You need to run another three miles before lunch.”
I snap out of my moaning puddle of sweat and give her a look, my mouth dropping open. “Three miles?”
“Yeah.” She claps her hands. “Chop, chop.”
“Please, Forrest, I can’t. Mercy. Mercy.” I flop back with a dramatic groan, and she snorts. “Today, I’m just done. I feel like a sweaty slab of jelly.”
I hear her soft footfalls leave, and when she comes back, there’s a clank of something hitting the floor next to me. “Here.”
I open my eyes to see her prodding at a small case. “What’s this?” I groan. “I hope to fate it’s not a weapon.” I’m not ready for weapons. I can’t control parts of my body while training, and I won’t fare well holding something pointy and sharp.
“Ah, no. I’m not allowing you near weapons. You’d only stab yourself.”
True. “Hardy har har. Thanks for that.”
She drops her voice to a whisper. “Um, I borrowed it, and I must give it back probably in about the next half hour.” Forrest looks at her arm and taps it, which is odd because she has never worn a watch, and there’s nothing on her wrist. “But until then, you can have a poke at it.” She gives me a grin and backs towards the kitchen.
“Okay, well, I’m just going to leave this here while I make myself a nice cup of tea, and when I get back, I’ll take it away.
” Forrest prowls out of the room, humming a song under her breath.
She does that a lot, and she likes theme tunes.
She’s a little odd, but I like quirky people. I like her. She makes me laugh, and she’s lovely when she’s not twisting my arm behind my back or trying to pull my fingers out of their joints. And that wasn’t even when we were training. It was not my fault I ate the last chocolate bar.
I side-eye the case.
Up until now, I’ve not had any magic training; it’s all been physical, aimed at getting me fit, and when I’m not passing out from one of Owen’s torture sessions, I’ve been working on things.
I have been surprised that nobody has taken the charms away from me.
However, the risk has made me think about how to carry them with me safely.
I’ve always created them, so if anybody has any jewellery, they’d automatically attach themselves to it. They’d make a lovely charm bracelet, necklace, or even a key ring if the person using them wants that.
I never really thought about how I’d carry them.
In my head, like a proper hoard, they’d be in a safe and secure storage room, and I could sit there and look at them. It’s not like I’m carrying a couple. I have a lot, and there is no safe space to store them with all this moving about.
I’ve been thinking about pocket dimensions and my need to examine the magic more closely.
I spoke to Forrest, who told me that she’s good friends with a witch and that the witch has a sister who can do realm magic.
It’s very rare, and all hush-hush, and I can’t tell anybody.
Doesn’t that sound familiar? But Forrest did say she’d get something for me to have a look at.
This must be it.
I stare down at the case, sit up, flick the catches, and lift the lid. Inside, there’s an innocuous bag—thin and silky black—nothing unusual about it. But when I try to look at it with the power inside me, magic-wise, I see something powerful.
Huh.
I stand up, grab a towel, and wipe my hands.
I don’t want to leave little sweat patches on the fabric.
I shuffle to the main light switch, turn on the light, and then sit cross-legged on the floor with the case under the bulb to see the bag better.
No, it’s not a bag; it’s a mini pocket dimension.
Of course I can see with my magical senses, but I need to look with my eyes too.
I grin, my heart pounds, and my stomach flips with excitement. Is this what people feel when they hold my magic? The bag only does something visual once you open it, and within its black depths is a storeroom the size of a wardrobe.
Wow. That is amazing. It’s so unbelievable, and it looks like an optical illusion.
I shrug away my caution and shove my hand inside the bag. I can feel the space, and even when I swing my hand from left to right, I can’t touch the sides.
It’s incredible. It’s mind-bending magic.
I pull my arm out and angle the bag so the light shines inside. I’m sure you could stick anything in there. However, I’m curious if the width of the bag limits you.
My eyes flick about, and I find a pole on the wall. I don’t know what it’s called, a staff? It’s a jousting, fighting thing. I jump up, grab it, and then sit back down. If I feed it via the end, it will go right in, but what happens if I try to put it in sideways? The pole is about seven feet long.
Will it work? Will you only be able to shove narrow things in here? I push the pole against the lip of the bag, and it grabs it, and even sideways, it disappears. You could store an entire settee in here. Gosh, I’m glad it didn’t suck me inside when I stuffed my hand in.
I’m still firmly holding on to the stick. It will have security and safety parameters, and I don’t know if you need to connect to the magic or attach it to you somehow for it to work. I don’t want to risk losing Owen’s stuff.
I pull the pole back out.
That’s cool. Even if I could make a bag, even a bag as cool as this one would be useless for my charms. They’d be easily captured, and even if they couldn’t get into the pocket dimension, they’d still be able to transport my charms and keep them away from me.
It’s not suitable for my hoard.
I place the pole on the floor next to me and hold the bag up to analyse with my other senses. The bag isn’t as alive as my charms, but I feel it doesn’t approve of being studied. “Hush, I’m only looking,” I mumble. Bloody hell. The magic is incredible, and I’m beyond impressed.
It’s an intricate weave of magic. Time and space knitted together in godlike complexity and power. I reverently put it back in its box and closed the lid. I can see how the magic works and know there is no way, absolutely no way, I could build anything like that.
It’s too complicated, too intricate.
Whoever weaved that magic is incredibly powerful.
I huff out a breath. “So that’s what that feels like.” I’ve always been magically gifted and thought my magic limitations were only my lack of imagination. But this magic here makes me feel human. This is how ordinary people feel—overwhelmed and awed.
It’s an interesting feeling.
So my magic does have limitations. It’s a relief I can’t create everything like the beautifully made pocket dimension. I laugh, grab the towel, and wipe at my sweaty head. If a bag that’s a glorified wardrobe is beyond my reach, I won’t be making a pocket world, that’s for sure.
My skill is charms.
My skill is charms.
I strum my fingers on the case as I think.
I know I can’t make anything invisible because that’s impossible, but I can make…
make a pocket of air. I could make it like a balloon which could float next to me.
A charm that can hold all my other charms out of sight.
Then if I needed a charm, I could pluck it out of the air pocket or, I bet, use it without touching it.
Would that be possible?
Oh my gosh, I’m going to make a mini cloud. I grin.
I have a new cloud charm when Forrest returns and collects the case.
It’s not a charm. What I mean is that it isn’t a material thing.
No, I’ve somehow charmed the air to create a netted bubble.
A bubble that answers only to me, and all the charms are up there in the cloud.
They can’t be seen with the naked eye, and the magic is so light and delicate that no one should pick it up.
“Sorted?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Come on then,” Forrest says, holding out a hand. “Do you know what we’re going to go and do?”
“What?”
“I need to drop this case off, and then we can go for a hot chocolate and chocolate cake.” Her eyes twinkle. I’ve only ever seen that look on her face when she talks about her mate.
“Both? A chocolate overload. Won’t cake and hot chocolate make you feel sick?”
“I worry about you. How could chocolate on chocolate make you sick? With thoughts like that, you will get your girl card revoked. Hand it back if you don’t think a chocolate explosion is the best thing ever.
Come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me up.
She doesn’t even strain, and I pop up like I’m in a jack-in-the-box.
Gosh, she’s strong. She hums as she drags me out of our makeshift training room.
“I need to get changed. I stink.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, I do. One second.” I bolt up the stairs, shower quickly, wash my hair, and use a charm I’ve made to dry it in record time. I get dressed and then run back downstairs ten minutes later.
Forrest stands at the bottom of the stairs, her foot tapping. She’s all clean.
“How did you get clean so fast, and isn’t that the same outfit?”
She grins at me. “I shifted. I can shift into a wolf and pop right back. It cleans my clothes and everything. I’ve got a clothing retention spell that my friend Jodie made for me. It’s brilliant.”
I shake my head as we walk outside. When a shifter turns into their animal form, they rarely keep their clothes. However, many spells on the market allow them to shift with their clothes, and when they return to human form, the clothes are still on their bodies, so there are no naked incidents.
“Some days, I don’t even brush my teeth.”
What? “Ew, Forrest, that is gross.”
“Yeah. My mate thinks so too. He chases me around the house with the toothbrush, insisting I brush my gnashes. I’m like, no, babe, I’ve shifted, and he doesn’t believe that’s enough and makes me brush them.
So then I leave the toothbrush in random places.
It drives him nuts. Toothbrush wars, it’s hilarious. ”
Owen appears out of nowhere, shakes his head, and opens the rear car door. “Come on then, you two. Where are we going?”
“We’re going into town,” Forrest says. “I need to drop this case off with Jodie, and then we’ll get hot chocolate and cake from the café.”
I think Forrest is obsessed with chocolate. I’m just happy to be getting out of the house.