Chapter 7
WALLACE
Sitting across from Windy at this tiny table in the tavern, I try to suppress the gnawing sense of desperation building in my gut. I’ve been back here in Spells Hollow for just a few short hours and so much of myself is already unraveling before Windy.
All I’ve been able to think about is kissing her, playing a part in breaking this curse of hers.
What does it mean by a kiss times three? Three kisses after each other?
Windy raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to break the silence.
“Wallace, you’re acting weird. Say something,” Windy says, her tone demanding but not unkind.
I let out a sigh, pushing my untouched bowl of soup around. The smell of savory food mingles with the faint aroma of burned coffee, and I almost lose my nerve. But Windy deserves to have at least some moment of truth. She’s such a good friend and even though we don’t know each other that well, I can see how loyal she is to her roommate and those around her.
“Okay, look,” I start, glancing around to make sure no one is eavesdropping. The tavern is nearly empty except for a couple of people who look like they are always there and a harried waitress who looks like she’s seen better days. “I need to tell you something about my history with magic. It’s... complicated.”
Windy leans forward, her curiosity piqued. “Go on.”
“I’m a siphoner. But I never knew I was a siphoner,” I confess, the words tumbling out faster than I intended. “All my life, I thought I was just like my mom. A witch.”
Windy’s eyes widen slightly, but she stays silent, letting me continue.
“My mom was incredible,” I say, a wistful smile tugging at my lips. “She could do things with magic that left me in awe. And for the longest time, I believed I had inherited her powers. I mean, whenever she did magic, I could do it, too. I thought I was special.”
I take a deep breath, feeling a lump form in my throat as memories flood back. “But it wasn’t me, Windy. I was just siphoning her magic without even realizing it. I didn’t know what I was. I thought it was all mine.”
Windy’s expression softens with understanding. “What happened?”
“When she died,” I say, my voice cracking, “the magic stopped. Just like that. One moment I was conjuring fire, and the next... nothing. It was like someone had flipped a switch. I felt so empty, so powerless. That’s when I realized it had never been my magic to begin with. I was just a leech. A monster. Stealing what wasn’t mine.”
Windy reaches across the table, placing a comforting hand on mine. “Wallace, that must have been awful. But it doesn’t change who you are.”
“Maybe not,” I reply, swallowing hard, “but it changed how I see myself. I crave magic, Windy. It’s like an addiction. When I found out about Spells Hollow, a place brimming with magic, it felt like a beacon. I come here a lot to get juiced up, to siphon as much power as I can, and carry it back home. I did find this place as a kid, that part was true… but… I knew exactly where we were going.”
Windy pulls her hand back, a frown creasing her brow. “So, you’re here to... what? Steal magic from this town?”
“Not steal,” I protest, shaking my head. “I just need to borrow it, to feel whole again. I know it sounds bad, but you have to understand—when you’ve had magic and then lost it, you’d do anything to get it back.”
She looks at me, her gaze piercing. “Wallace, magic isn’t just about power. It’s about responsibility, about how you use it.”
“I know,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “But I’m desperate, Windy. I’ve felt like half a person ever since my mom died. Without magic, I’m nothing.”
Windy sighs, leaning back in her seat. “You’re not nothing, Wallace. Magic doesn’t define you. You do.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, staring at the table. “You don’t know what it’s like to have something so incredible and then lose it.”
“You’re right,” Windy admits. “I don’t, exactly. Though I do know what it is like to have magic do your bidding but suddenly stop. I do know that you can’t just take magic from others to fill that void. There has to be another way.”
I look up at her, desperation etched in every line of my face. “What if there isn’t? What if this is the only way I can feel alive again?”
Windy’s eyes soften, and she reaches out to me once more. “Wallace, we’ll find another way. Together. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Her words hit me like a tidal wave, washing over my doubts and fears. Maybe she’s right. Maybe there’s another way to reclaim my sense of self without resorting to siphoning magic from others.
“Thank you, Windy,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She smiles a warm, genuine smile that makes me feel, for the first time in a long while, that there’s hope. “We’re friends, Wallace. And friends stick together, no matter what.”
As we sit there in silence, I feel a small spark of something I thought I’d lost forever. Maybe it’s not magic, but it’s close enough for now.