She started the car and backed out of the small parking lot that led to the hiking trails.
“Were your parents happy?” Malcolm asked, his voice oddly quiet.
“Very happy. They kind of lived in their own world together, but I never felt left out of their love. I just knew as a child that I wanted what they had… It was special, once in a lifetime kind of special.”
He seemed to relax a bit. “I just never want to feel trapped… or to trap anyone else.”
Calli understood that feeling all too well. “Does your mother feel trapped with your father?” She was still curious about Malcolm’s parents’ unusual union. It wasn’t unheard of for someone with magic to marry a non-magical human, but it often came with dangers and challenges and therefore was rare.
“No, not at all. My dad is stuffy and a traditionalist in just about everything except my mother. Other magical families didn’t want to socialize with us when I was young. But no one turned down my father at the end of the day. So we attended the usual magical gatherings, and my mother never let my father’s world shut her out.”
He chuckled. “One time she helped fix a broken sink for a witch that was the mother of a schoolmate of mine. She’d gotten flustered trying to make dinner and broke the plumbing with a spell and couldn’t figure out how to fix it. That’s when I learned that a lot of magic and its effectiveness means you have to understand something about what you intended your magic to do. The witch couldn’t fix the plumbing because she didn’t understand how plumbing worked. But my mother did, and she became a hero to that witch.”
Malcolm paused a moment. “I think my father wanted me to be fully in his world, so I never had to fight for my place like my mother had to.”
“I can understand that,” Calli said. “Parents don’t want their children to suffer.”
“Problem is, I did suffer. Whenever I didn’t do what my father wanted, or later, when my spells started to fail…”
“He didn’t punish you for that, did he?” Calli bit her lip, afraid to know what he might say.
“No, God no. Not the way you’re thinking. As much as my father drives me crazy, I know he loves me. But his disappointment always hit me hard until…”
“Until…?” she pressed.
He shrugged. “Until I stopped caring what he thought. Now he just expects me to do certain things, and I won’t do them.”
Calli sensed there was more to it than that, but it was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate, so she changed the subject.
“I was thinking… maybe we could cook tonight? And maybe, if you’re interested, you would want to learn a little bit about hedge magic?” Most of the spells they’d done today were easily accessible no matter what kind of magic came easily to a person, but some spells were easier for hedge magic and some for blood magic. If Malcolm was going to lock himself with her for the rest of their lives, she needed to know how he felt about her magic first. If he didn’t want to know about or understand hedge magic, she’d have her answer about their future.
Malcolm’s flashed that mischievous grin of his, which she was coming to learn meant trouble…but the fun kind.
“Maybe I can regrow those pumpkins of yours.” He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed. “What with me being a master warlock and all now.”
“Oh no, no way. Those took a lot of focus and care. When you want them to be as big as those were it takes a lot of magic. We’ll start with something small and much safer. And master warlock? Really?”
“I did freeze time,” he reminded her with a cocky grin that she shouldn’t have found sexy.
“So did I,” Calli countered.
“Yeah, but I taught you.”
She laughed. “Well… I suppose anything is possible, but we’ll start with something small at first to get you acquainted with hedge magic.”
“Small? The master warlock demands a challenge!” he teased in a mockingly serious tone.
Hades barked in agreement from the backseat. Calli couldn’t help but smile, even as she rolled her eyes. Today she truly discovered that not all magic came from spells or incantations. Some magic was born with a kiss.
Reginald Wellesley adjusted the floor-length cheval glass mirror. Its gilded frame had a golden serpent winding around the edges that writhed or flicked its tongue when more powerful spells were cast at the looking glass.
He cleared his throat and prepared his incantation. Many spells did not need words, but when a situation proved more challenging than usual, a spoken spell was stronger.
“Through truth to light,
Bring forth my sight,
Of a son lost in time and space,
