“You’re going to cast a glamour and make the rocks appear a different color.”
“I can do that?”
He smiles. “You can.”
“How does magic work?” I ask, watching him pour herbs into a bowl.
“Do you want the long answer, or the one that’s easy to understand?” He looks up, eyes meeting mine. A smile plays on his lips.
“Easy answer, please.”
“Magic is manipulating energy to do your will. Some people, like you, are born with the ability to work spells in your favor.”
“And spells…it’s more than rhyming words strung together, right?”
“Right. It’s much more.” He taps the grimoire. “Everything here has been carefully crafted. The right words paired with the right herbs, tested over and over to make sure it gets the same results.”
“So in theory, I could create my own spell.”
“Yes.” He looks back to the bowl and pushes it over to me. “You need to invoke the powers of the herbs.”
“How the fuck do I do that?”
Jacques laughs. “That’s one thing I can’t explain since I’ve never done it. Try to feel for it.” He takes my hands, sliding his fingers over my own. His touch is warm, welcome, and I don’t want him to let go. “When you feel it, imagine the rocks in whatever color you want. You’re not actually changing their color, just the way we see them.”
“And this is a basic spell? It’s complicated.”
Jacques circles his thumb over my pulse point. “You’ll get it, Ace. You’re smart.”
I nod and inch forward, looking at the bowl of herbs beneath my hands. “Okay. I’ll try.”
I hold my hands out over the bowl for so long my arms start to get tired. Nothing happens.Come on. I imagine the herbs glowing like they would in a movie. I inhale, and feel something tingling under my hands, similar to the feeling of static electricity.
I open my eyes and see little flecks of light shining from within the bowl of herbs.
“Can you see that?” I ask, not blinking.
“See what?”
“The lights.”
“No.” Jacques slides a stone in front of me. “Don’t tell me the color. Imagine and change it.”
Red. Turn red.I move my hands from the herbs to the stone, and feel the energy transfer.
“It’s pink,” Jacques says, turning his head. “Is that what you intended?”
“I was going for red.” My eyes widen and I poke at the stone in disbelief. Pink is basically watered-down red. The spell worked. Holy. Shit. “How long does it last?”
“On something like this, probably a day. On yourself, hours at best.”
“I can glamour myself?”
“You can. And others.”
I blink, trying to take it all in. “Can I try again?”
“Of course.”
