Chapter 4 Salt in the Sugar #3
Ever since she was a teen, Sage had tended to ruin things in one way or another: Forever killing conversations with facts that no one else found interesting.
Regretting every joke she ever told, most of them sailing over the other person’s head anyway.
Constantly misreading the appropriate reaction or tuning out of conversations while she was too busy wondering how to hold her hands like a normal human.
Sage had learned she was best at keeping herself to herself.
Rather than socializing, she spent most of her days contemplating, studying or hypothesizing how best she might understand the restraints around her magic, release them and, eventually, successfully banish it forever.
When it came to her banishment experiments, there’d been some significant highbrow attempts over the years.
Bonfires, rituals, séances, sacrifice—nothing cruel or gory; she’d just vowed to give up chocolate in offering.
Thankfully, that one hadn’t worked. There’d also been some lower-brow attempts, which she tried her best to forget.
Hoovering her own belly button (stressful), dancing naked in a thunderstorm (mortifying) and cutting her hair short (sad).
Mercifully, her red curls had grown back to their full length in a matter of hours.
“You’re too hard on yourself, Treasure,” Maggie sighed. She nodded at the cat. “This gentleman likes you, so you must be doing something right. Caught him red-pawed at the sausage meat while I was preparing it this very afternoon. Didn’t I, Malachite?”
“Well, yes,” Sage said, a sheepish smile tugging at her face as she scratched Mal under the chin.
“I can’t get rid of this one, as hard as I try.
” The cat, dopey in his devotion, gave her such an enthusiastic headbutt in return that his white boots lost their balance slightly.
She had named him after her favourite copper carbonate hydroxide mineral, otherwise considered a crystal by the more magically attuned.
The stone was known for its emotionally healing properties, which she considered a rather apt combination of magic, science and sentimentality for the furry little creature.
“I promise it’s not just me being a hermit.
For once,” Sage said. “It’s my magic. It’s been ferocious since October began, but I can barely keep it under control this week.
Just this evening on my way home, I almost blew the village electrics and my book bag decided to levitate of its own accord.
I looked like a lunatic stumbling to catch it as Mrs. Delaney turned the corner.
She thought I was having some kind of fit. ” Sage grimaced at the memory.
As though giggling at the recollection of its own mischief, a few sparks of magic spluttered from Sage’s left hand and made a beeline for the herbs and spices rack. Within seconds, each of the jars was hopping to and fro, swapping lids and labels in a chaotic jumble.
Sage groaned. “See? That’ll be the kickback for the warm and dry incantation. Good-for-nothing stuff.”
Even her most minor spells always led to something chaotic and destructive in exchange.
She gave it an inch and it stole a mile.
What might seem like only garam masala in the cinnamon jar or sugar in the salt-shaker was in fact much, much more than that.
It was yet further confirmation of Sage’s worst fear: that her magic was perilously unpredictable. Dangerously so.
They rose to their feet with matching familiar sighs (well, one rose a few inches above the floor) and each reached for a mystery jar to sniff and solve the contents of.
“Trust me, Maggs. It’s best I keep to myself,” Sage said wistfully. “Anyway, I have Casimir, Robin and Laurel. There’s no one else I need.”
Maggie coughed pointedly.
“Apart from you. I wouldn’t get very far without you around, Maggs,” Sage said gently.
There weren’t many people in the universe who earned such a soft tone of affection from her voice.
In fact, it was solely Maggie and Mal who managed to.
Occasionally her siblings too. Casimir certainly wasn’t lucky enough to make the list. “Although, as we have long established, if I knew how, I would break my own rules to free you before you even had a moment to change your socks.”
“You are most kind for it, madam—Sage,” the maid corrected herself. “Now, what shall it be this eve?” she said cheerfully as she opened the junk drawer below to pull out a pack of cards. “Whist or bridge?”
Only when she safely judged that the spice rack was not about to perform any more malevolent tricks did Sage accept Maggie’s offer, grateful for the distraction.
Still, it was difficult to concentrate on the game, thoughts running wild of devious, exploding kettles or wayward oven timers catching fire—not to mention when the Queen of Hearts shot an unexpected wink from her hand.
It had all become so untrustworthy. Sage would need to be more disciplined to protect those around her.
She could not afford to relax for the rest of the month, not for a single moment.
Long ago, it had become clear that magic was not meant for Sage.
Hers was a dark, malignant force that was not to be tampered with.
A complicated, tangled kind of trouble. An inexplicable impetus that even a lifetime of study and devotion had still provided no real answers for.
She repeated the same mantra over and over: All she had to do was control it and, eventually, it would be gone.
Although, as any witch knows, if she was honest with her heart, even the most dormant magic, buried deep in the darkest corridors beneath, is impossible to ignore forever.