Chapter 23
Cold and Slimy Magic
“Are you okay?” Nadine asks me, knowing something is wrong even if I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about it yet.
I’m not sure what time she got back to the cottage last night, or what she and Jax were doing out so late. Judging from how bubbly she’s been all day, I think they had a good evening.
I’m happy she’s happy—both for her and for me. Her peaceful presence has tempered my nerves for most of the day and made work bearable.
But right now, Nadine’s worried about me, and her comforting magic has vanished.
“Rowan and I are going to break the bond as soon as we close the shop,” I admit.
She stares at me, eyes wide. “Right now?”
Choking back my fear, I nod.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“You should probably go home and keep my parents company. We’re due for an intense storm this evening.”
She cocks her head to the side, suspicious. “Why?”
“Ansel has to draw my magic. It’s not a pretty process.”
We’ve talked about it before, but her face goes white. To most pixies, the idea of magic draws and dust pendants is horrifying. I guess I’m desensitized now, because it’s become an annoying chore—like appearing for jury duty or renewing your driver’s license.
“I don’t know, Kit…” she says.
“It’ll be all right. I’ve done it before.”
And if I keep my present company, I’ll probably do it again.
“How did you get tangled up with so many mages?”
I laugh. “I have no idea.”
“I take it you won’t be home for dinner?”
“Not tonight.” I walk over to the door, flip the sign, and set the lock.
It’s time.
“I’ll let your parents know you’ll be late,” Nadine says. “Be careful, all right?”
“I will be.” I head toward the back. “See you tonight.”
I find Rowan upstairs. He’s going through our inventory with a clipboard and a frown. We haven’t talked much today.
We’re both so anxious about breaking the mate bond we barely even celebrated his first successful, premeditated shift to and from his owl state. He called last night when he arrived at Marshall’s, telling me the good news.
It doesn’t surprise me that he worked it out after just a couple of accidental shifts. Now he just needs to figure out what to do with his clothes.
Startled from his thoughts, Rowan turns when he notices me. “Is it time?”
“Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
He sets the clipboard on top of a shelf. “I haven’t.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, preparing myself. “Then let’s go see Ansel.”
The sorcerer is actually happy to see us. He ushers Rowan and me inside the rock shop, motioning for us to hurry.
“You’re entirely too excited to experiment on us,” I tell him, not sharing his enthusiasm.
“You’re mopey when I don’t welcome you with open arms and grumpy when I do,” Ansel scoffs. “You’re difficult to please.”
“And you’re in an awfully good mood.”
Dropping his feigned frustration, he claps his hands and then rubs them together. “I’m eager to see if this works.”
“I thought you were confident it was going to work?”
“I am, but the only way to know for sure is to test it.” He gestures to the table. “The dust pendant is ready to go, Rowan. Have at it.”
“Wait.” Tendrils of panic wrap around my heart. “Have at it? We just got here.”
“Do you want to hold a parade first?”
“No, but that’s it? No cautionary instructions or…I don’t know.” My voice grows desperate. “Something?”
The sorcerer contemplates me, baffled. “I think we’ve pretty much covered everything.”
“Not everything. What is Rowan going to do with the magic once he’s drawn it from the pendant?”
With mock patience, Ansel says to Rowan, “Kit would like to know how you plan to use the surplus magic. Would you mind sharing with the class?”
“It should merge with my magic, so I plan to drain all of it with fire, just as you do when you need to deplete your supply.”
Rowan appears calm, but I can see through him. He’s nervous.
“A sound solution.” Ansel turns to me. “Can we begin?”
Rowan reaches for the pendant, and I dart forward. “Wait!”
He looks back at me, his expression soft but determined. “It’s going to be okay.”
“What if it’s not?” I whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“This just got awkward.” Ansel clears his throat. “I’m going to give you a minute, but then, do you think we can get on with this? I understand your time isn’t in high demand, but I do have other things—”
“Yes, thank you,” I say, cutting him off. “We appreciate it.”
Shaking his head like an old man, the sorcerer leaves the workshop. If we were paying him, he’d demand a raise.
When the door closes, I look back at Rowan…but I don’t know what to say.
He gives me a sad smile, so handsome, and extends his arms. “It looks like you could use a hug.”
I choke back a sob and step into him, holding him so tightly. He wraps his arms around my back, resting his cheek next to my ear.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
“Me too,” he admits.
“I feel like this is where we end.”
He sets his chin on my head. “Or it’s where we begin. Unfortunately, there’s no way to know which it will be until we cross that bridge.”
I close my eyes, soaking in his heat, committing this moment to memory just in case…
Well, just in case.
We stay like this until the door handle turns. Reluctantly, we pull away from each other as Ansel returns to the workshop. Rowan takes a step back, his stormy gaze on my face. He nods, silently telling me it’s time.
I’m not crying, but it feels like my tears are welling up inside of me. They’re an ocean raging in a storm, and the crashing waves threaten to drown me.
“Are you two ready now?” Ansel asks impatiently.
“We’re ready.” Rowan picks up the pendant, produces his wand, and takes a deep breath.
My heart leaps to my throat, and my stomach rolls. I grasp the side of the workbench to stay standing as he taps into the shimmering spectral magic.
Rowan winces, letting out a slow hiss as he clenches his eyes shut.
“How does it feel?” Ansel asks eagerly.
“Cold and slimy,” I shudder, repulsed. The magic surrounds me like a wet dress, clinging too closely.
“You feel it, Kit?” Ansel demands, fascinated.
“It’s like I jumped into a pit of ice-cold, writhing snakes.”
“Snakes are cold-blooded,” the sorcerer says ever-so-helpfully. “Technically, if they were ice-cold, they wouldn’t be moving.”
“Okay, that’s great,” I say. “Are we done yet?”
“You might as well disengage from the cache,” Ansel says to Rowan. “If Kit can feel it, it’s not working—”
He no sooner says the words when my magic rallies. It pushes away the ominous, slimy cloak, shoving it back until I feel…
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
I become hyperaware of my surroundings. A clock hangs on the wall. Its second hand creates a loud, rhythmic tick that fills the earth-magic and rock-dust scented room. Outside, rain patters on the window, forlorn.
For the first time in weeks, I feel utterly and completely alone.