I hear a crackling pop. The glass from the windows blows out and a beam falls through the roof. The house I grew up in is burning to the ground. The place that holds all of my memories of my parents. Where I can still feel close to them, even though they’re gone.
My tears fall, and I don’t even try to stop them.How could Caulder do this to me?My home is all I have.All I had…
Ciarán comes to my side and holds my hand. I can feel his magic pulsing through me, and it calms me.
“Take my magic. Merge it with your elemental magic to stop the fire.”
“I don’t think I can. My magic is shit,” I admit. It’s better he finds out what he got himself into now. He swore to protect me and should know how useless my magic is.
He forces his way past my magical barriers, filling me with a power I’ve never felt before. His magic has a static energy. It buzzes inside me, expanding until it feels as if it’s pressing against my insides, searching for a way to escape.
“Your magic isn’t shit, Ambrose. You just need to have confidence in yourself. I know you can do it. Feel my magic growing inside you? That’s you—not me. I just lent you a boost.”
I look down at our joined hands, only to find that they aren’t joined anymore. His magic isn’t deflating. If anything, it grows more intense, like I’ll explode if I don’t use it. Pointing my open palms toward the fire, I imagine a rushing waterfall. The image morphs into a deluge of water hitting the house from above.
When I open my eyes, torrents of water are pouring down from the sky onto my house. They extinguish the fire slowly but surely, until all that’s left is a smoking pile of ash and rubbish. I pick through the remains, hoping to find anything thatsurvived. Ciarán stands behind me. My sentinel watching over me. Protecting me.
The only thing that survived is my grandmother’s grimoire. Layer upon layer of Stone witch spells must have created a protectant seal on it. It lies unscathed where the coffee table was. I hold it close because it’s the only thing I have left from my family.
I don’t realize I’m sobbing until my demon turns me around, coddling me into his chest.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he coos. “All is not lost…”
“Wh-what do you mean?” I stutter. “I literally just lost everything I own. All because of that asshole.”
“If our combined magic was enough to put the fire out… maybe it will be enough to fix the house. If your elemental magic allows you to create water, air, earth, and fire, isn’t it reasonable to assume we can undo the impact of those elements?”
I stare at him with my mouth wide open in disbelief. I think Ciarán gives me much more credit than I’m due. My magic is chaotic, downright unreliable. Last week, I meant to cast a simple spell to boil water for a cup of tea, and somehow sent shards of ceramic mug flying through the air. One time I accidentally created a blizzard when I was a teenager because I wanted a snow day from school. Another time I almost hurt Caulder during one of our lessons when I tried to conjure fire.
How can I possibly rise to the challenge of undoing the damage from a magically set house fire?
“I may have gotten lucky this time. Even with your boost, I won’t be able to do it…” I can barely look at him as I say the words. The truth is too embarrassing.
“Yes, you can, summoner. You didn’t say those words—your insecurities did. After years of being put down and discounted, you don’t believe in yourself anymore. I believe in you. You can do this.”
Ciarán’s words hit deep inside of me. If he believes in me, then maybe it’s worth giving this a shot. I nod, then take his hand and lead him to the center of the house. Something about this location seems… right. The vibe here is more potent. I close my eyes and envision the way my house used to look when I was growing up, before my parents passed away.
Mom’s beautiful rose bushes in front of the house. The pergola we set up in the backyard and the flowers that bloomed on its vines. The brass sun knocker I found at an antique sale. Dad and I fixed it to the bright blue door. Countless evenings spent reading near the big bookshelf in the living room. The smell of homemade cinnamon buns in the kitchen, and the ravenous excitement I had whenever I’d eat them.
With every memory, Ciarán’s magic grows and swells inside me, thrumming to a sound in the distance I can’t quite distinguish. I keep thinking about memories from my childhood and teens. The good times we all had together before they died.
Suddenly, my mind takes a turn, remembering the night they passed away.
Coven members gathered in a spell circle around a young, bleeding witch. The bright red blood on her neck and shirt. The deep gashes her assailant left behind. She suffered from a werewolf bite, but the transformation didn’t work. Her excruciatingly painful cries. The risk they all took to save her. The look of determination on Caulder’s face as a whirling, bright light erupted from their joined hands…
I thought that light would save the young woman, but it struck my parents dead.
The magic inside me fades away, dwindling to nothing. Unwelcome memories of Caulder flood my brain.
“You’re not trying hard enough, Ambrose. What kind of witch can’t even conjure water in a bowl, and an elemental witch at that. This is fucking pathetic.”
“Valentine’s Day isn’t that big of a deal. You’re just trying to pick a fight with me.”
“It’s none of your business why I don’t want to tell anyone. We keep our relationship private and if you don’t like it, I can leave.”
“Stop fucking crying, it’s just a scratch. If you didn’t annoy the fuck out of me, I wouldn’t have hit you.”
His words swirl around my head, killing the little confidence I had in myself. All my hopes of resurrecting my house deflate. Caulder is right. I’m pathetic, a shit excuse for a witch. No wonder he didn’t want to be with me. I can’t even protect myself.
