“Your Clan has an emotional magic. Your mental state has a very real effect on that.” He reaches for me, but I flinch away from his touch.
“I’mfine.”
“I think that’s the problem.” Cal reaches for me again and holds tight to my hand. “You’ve been through an immense trauma, Hannah. You aren’t fine. It takes time to heal from something like that.”
“But I’m okay,” I argue, even as the tears on my face make a liar out of me. Even as my voice breaks into a million pieces. “I swear.”
“You have to give yourself space to grieve.” Cal pulls me close, and tears spill down my cheeks. My chest tightens until it’s hard to breathe. “If you don’t let yourself feel all the terrible, scary, awful pieces of grief, your magic may never be yours again.”
12
CAL GETS PIZZA DELIVEREDto his apartment, and over lunch, he tries to convince me to test his theory.
“Just let in a little emotion and see if you can manipulate the air.” Cal wipes a bit of pizza sauce from his finger. “I’ll be right here the whole time. It’s okay to be vulnerable.”
I set my plate on the coffee table. We’re sitting in the living room since the kitchen is more magical workshop than a place to eat. “I don’t think I can let in alittlegrief, Cal. That isn’t a thing.”
“Humor me.”
“Fine.” I settle back into the couch and close my eyes. Cautiously, I approach the memories I’ve been trying for weeks to keep hidden. Dad breezing through the living room to press a kiss to Mom’s cheek and ruffle my hair before he left for work. The strength of his magic at coven gatherings, solid and steady beside me.
I’m about to tell Cal this isn’t going to work. That I’mfine, and this isn’t the reason my magic is so painful, but then I remember prom.
Veronica came over to pick me up, and Dad acted like he was some undercover paparazzi guy. He kept snapping pictures at weird angles and shoving his phone around corners to take photos. He even jumped over the back of the couch to get a shot of V tying a corsage around my wrist.
The memory makes me laugh, and in my moment of distraction, that one second of letting my guard down, the grief swoops in and other memories suck the air from my lungs.
Dad in the hospital.
A young doctor holding his wedding ring and telling us he’s gone.
I want to scream, but I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t understand how my heart is still beating.
“No.” I shove away from the couch and stumble across the room, burying my face in my hands. I press hard against my closed eyes to force the tears away. All the pieces of control I’d built in the first weeks after Dad’s death crumble away. I have to build them back up, have to bury the memories. Hide the hurt.
I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.
“Hannah?” Cal’s voice is cautious behind me. His hand a tentative presence on my back. “Are you okay?”
Deep breaths. Put up the walls. Lock the door.
I turn and force a smile. “I’m fine. It’s like I told you. It doesn’t work.” I grab my plate from the coffee table and deposit it in the kitchen sink. “We should get to Archer’s place. There’s work to do.”
Cal gives me a strange look, but he doesn’t contradict me. We’re on the road a few minutes later, driving separately to Archer’s house. I keep turning Cal’s theory around in my head. If he’s right, how would that explain why my magic works better when Morgan’s around?
By the time we get to Archer’s, I haven’t come up with an answer. I pull in after Cal and follow him inside, where we hear voices coming from the eat-in kitchen.
“There’s no guarantee this girl will invite me to performwhere she works.” It takes a second to recognize Alice’s voice. She’s almost timid, like she’s afraid.
“All we ask is that you try,” Archer says, and he sounds so normal I can picture him sitting there with one of the little notebooks he keeps in his suit jacket. “Our intel says Eisha is a devoted fan. If you ask, there’s a good chance she’ll say yes.”
Cal and I step into the room before Alice responds. She glances up, and a hard edge flashes across her expression when she sees me. She doesn’t say anything, but her face is full of insults. So that bodes really well for the rest of my afternoon.
“I didn’t expect to see Alice,” I say cautiously as I cross the room and take the spot opposite her. Cal sits to my left.
“Oh, good. You’re here.” Archer ignores Alice’s intense glower and flips through the open folder on the table before him. The same photo of Eisha and the printed social media postings I saw last week are now in front of Alice. “This is your next recruit. David O’Connell.”
“He’s the Caster in Ithaca, right?” I pull the glossy picture Archer slides my way closer. The image shows a young white man with dark hair. It’s a formal headshot, accompanied by a small-print bio. He looks innocuous enough, but according to Cal, this man is also the key to creating a targeted potion that can kill the Hunters.
