Chapter 12
Twelve
Ash
She’s late.
I wonder if she’s watching from the edge of the woods or if she’s inside, staring out a window, debating whether it’s worth defying me just to prove a point.
I glance at my watch, then at my own footprints behind me, tramping a track through the thin layer of snow that has fallen.
I’m about to walk further down the treeline when she calls out.
“You know, you should really wear something that doesn’t glow in the dark.”
I turn. There she is, three feet away, leaning against a tree with her hands in her pockets, hair spilling from under a knit beanie, in a coat three sizes too big for her.
I try for indifference. “Didn’t hear you coming.”
She shrugs. “Guess you’re getting old.”
I step closer. “Or maybe you’re finally learning something.”
She ignores me, and glances around at the silent forest. “So. Training. What’s the plan?”
I gesture at the clearing, the dead leaves and snowy mud under our boots. “You already know the basics. You can move small objects, light a candle, and heal a cut if you concentrate hard enough. But that’s baby magic. What you’re capable of is so more.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard this speech before,” she says. “So what do I do?”
“Close your eyes.”
She rolls them but obeys, tipping her head back and letting her arms hang loose.
“Good,” I say. “Now listen. Magic isn’t something you force. It’s not a muscle you flex. It’s a current. You have to let it find you. Let go of your thoughts.”
She makes a face, eyes still closed. “You sound like a yoga instructor.”
I walk around her in a slow circle, dropping my voice. “Shut up, Rose.” I feel her irritation flare through the mark, but she keeps her eyes closed. “Listen to the woods. Feel the cold. The wind. The wetness in the air.”
Her breathing slows.
“Now reach out,” I say. “With your blood.”
She tenses, but I know she feels the power rising up from the ground, through her boots, into her legs, through her core.
“Good. Now think about what you want. Not what you should do, or what I’m telling you to do. What you want.”
Snowflakes fall slower, as if they too are waiting for Rose. Finally, she says, “I want summer.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Summer?”
She opens her eyes. “I’m bloody freezing.”
I step back, gesturing at the frozen earth. “Then make it happen.”
She scowls but kneels, brushing snow away from the frozen ground with her bare hands.
Closing her eyes again, I watch the gold light thread up her arms, the mark on her wrist glowing like a neon sign.
A moment later, there is a dull cracking sound, and then the earth breaks open, a handful of green shoots pushing through the ice crust. Within seconds, a riot of bright red, pink, orange and yellow flowers carpets the ground, petals unfurling and opening to reveal their full color, perfuming the air around us.
Rose’s mouth hangs open. “Holy shit.”
I kneel beside her, close enough to smell magic on her skin, a better smell than any flower. “You see? You can do anything. You are magic.”
She brushes her fingers over the blooms. “What else?”
I stand, brushing snow off my knees. “Light the trees.”
She blinks. “What if I burn everything down?”
I shrug.
Her eyes lift to the branches overhead. She shuts them, and seconds later tiny globes of light blink into being among the tree limbs like fireflies. They spin and dance, illuminating the forest around us in a rainbow glow.
Rose laughs, delighted. “It’s like Christmas.”
“Yule. A real witch’s holiday.”
She watches the lights. “This is insane.”
I step closer, voice low. “This is just a tiny taste of what you can do, Rose.”
She studies me, then crosses her arms. “So what now? Making pretty lights is hardly going to help me.”
“Now,” I say, “we see how far you can push it.”
Before she can brace herself, I’m in front of her and have her shoulders pinned to the tree trunk.
“Levitate,” I command.
She glares. “What, like float?”
I nod. “If you can create flowers in December, in New England, you can lift yourself six inches off the ground.”
She sets her mouth, focusing. Then her boots leave the earth and her toes dangle in the air.
She shrieks and clamps her mouth shut.
I let go and step back to watch her hover, a faint aura of gold light around her.
Her grin is wild. “I’m flying.”
“Hardly,” I drawl. “You’re hovering. Don’t get cocky.”
She wobbles and drops in a heap.
“Nice,” I say. “Graceful.”
She flips me off.
“You could be the strongest witch in the world, Rose. If you’d stop holding back.”
She straightens, brushing dirt and snow off her jeans. “I’m not holding back.”
“You’re always holding back. You’re terrified of what you could do.”
She stares up, furious. “No, I’m terrified of what you’ll do with me once I’m stronger.”
“That’s fair.” I don’t argue, because she has a point. It was always my intention to take back what was owed to my coven. What was promised to my ancestors all those centuries ago. But now, the Blood Moon Coven is in tatters once again, my life’s work undone at the hands of Helena Wickersly.
She turns away, pretending to study the lights. I know my words upset her.
I sigh. “Fine. If you want to play it safe, we can call it a night.”
She shoots me a look. “You’re the one who wanted to train.”
I nod. “But I want results. Not half-assed party tricks.”
She bristles. “I just grew a fucking field of flowers. On frozen ground.”
I shrug. “A five-year-old could do better.”
She shoves me hard. I let myself stumble, then catch her wrists before she can pull away. “You want to show me what you can do? Stop pretending. Stop being afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of anything, especially you, Ash,” she sneers.
“Are you sure, little witch?” I yank her towards me, our faces a breath apart. Her eyes are wide, and she sneaks a glance at my lips. I smirk and put more space between us.
She wrenches free, glaring. “Fine. You want a show?”
She closes her eyes, fists clenched. The wind picks up, swirling around us in a miniature cyclone.
Snow whips sideways, pelting my face, but I widen my stance and stay upright.
The trees groan, bending inward. The ground shakes, the flowers flatten.
Overhead, the globes of light explode into a shower of sparks, like a multi-colored sudden cloudburst.
She opens her eyes, panting, hair plastered to her forehead. “Happy?”
“Slightly better.”
She shakes her head. “You’re an asshole.”
I step closer. “Jasmine wants you strong. But I don’t yet know why. It doesn’t make sense to let you grow your powers, since you could hurt her if you gain full control over them.”
She picks up a destroyed flower, rubbing the fragrant petals between her fingers. “What happens when I am? Stronger.”
I meet her gaze. “Then you’ll have a choice. And so will I.”
She stares at me, trying to figure out what that means, but I’m already turning away, heading back toward the path.