Then a ripple.
She was part of me now.
I descended the stairs as the heavy brass knocker struck once, then again.
By the time I opened the front door, Charlie was already mid-sentence, juggling her bags and a paper coffee cup with an expression of determination.
"Sorry I'm early," she said breathlessly. "There was no traffic and I figured, if I'm already cursed with infernal powers, I might as well be your star pupil."
I stepped aside. "I've been waiting."
Her eyes caught on mine for a fraction of a second, then dropped lower. To the open collar. The silk.
"I thought demons wore black," she murmured, brushing past me and heading toward the study.
"Only when we want to be feared."
"Remind me what you're going for today?"
"Restraint."
She arched a brow but didn't push it.
Sinnamon trotted in behind her and growled at me as he passed.
"There is a place in hell for you," I whispered to the little beast.
"I just have a few emails to send out, then I'm all yours."
I'm all yours. She had no idea what those words did to me.
She slipped in behind the desk and started working. A small huff of frustration floated in the air and right on cue, Charlie's emotional state caused my favorite crystal decanter to spontaneously combust.
"Charlie," I said carefully, setting down my morning coffee as wisps of smoke curled up from what had once been a rather expensive piece of glassware, "perhaps we should start with some basic control techniques."
She looked up from her laptop, where she'd been furiously typing responses to vendor emails, completely oblivious to the small disaster she'd just created. "Control techniques?"
I gestured at the smoldering remains. "Your newfound abilities appear to be... enthusiastic today."
"That's the third one, isn't it?" She winced. "It's been almost a week, Malrik, and things are getting worse." There was asharp edge to her voice that couldn't quite mask the underlying anxiety. "I think I'm going to lose my mind."
"Trust me, you are not, and that's precisely why I'm suggesting control techniques," I replied, keeping my tone deliberately calm despite the rising temperature in the room. "Regardless of how long the effects last, learning to manage them will improve your immediate circumstances."
She closed her laptop with a decisive snap. "Okay. Let's do this. But to be clear, I want this gone. Fixed. Reversed."
"Understood."
Twenty minutes later, I was seriously reconsidering my offer as Charlie stood in the center of my study, attempting the most basic of power exercises: lighting a single candle.
"Feel the energy," I instructed. "Don't force it. Simply... guide it."
Charlie raised her hand toward the innocent white candle. Her face screwed up with effort, and every candle, lamp, and light fixture in the room blazed to life simultaneously, along with the fireplace.
"Too much," I said mildly, as she jumped back in surprise.
"I was trying to be gentle!" She stared at her hands with frustration. "How am I supposed to coordinate Scorched when I can't even control a simple candle? What if this happens in front of everyone?"
"Your emotional state and thoughts affect the power," I explained, extinguishing the excessive flames. "The more agitated you become, the more erratic the results."
