Fuck.
Things were calm until the afternoon. Apparently, Ash started feeling joyous while shelving a new box of books as light broke out again. Only this time, it was tiny bursts of color refracting through the air. Rainbowsdanced across the spines, shimmering on the counter, bending through the windows.
Betsy doesn’t even hesitate. “Oh stars above — don’t you dare cry in here, girl.”
Ash looks mortified. “I didn’t—! I mean, I wasn’t trying to?—”
I catch her hand before she can retreat. “You were happy,” I murmur. “That’s all it takes.”
She looks at me with wide eyes. I ignore the ache of memory.
“I feel like I’ve done this before.” She whispers.
I don’t bother to answer. She has.
“I think you should fill Betsy in on our training yesterday.” I nudge her towards the older woman. “She should know.”
And she should be able to tell Ash whether or not I irrevocably fucked up by answering as much as I did.
Betsy lets me live and, as she doesn’t disappear with one of those terrifying tomes, I assume she has not penned any special stories for me. Thank Gods.
The next day, it starts small. An old man is arguing at the counter, his voice sharp with irritation about amissing order. The air around Ash feels tight. I feel it before I see it, the way the light dims and the corners of the shop seem to stretch just a little too long.
Shadows are crawling across the walls.
“Casie,” I say softly. “Breathe.”
She flinches. “I didn’t mean… he was just so angry.”
“I know.” I reach her before the shadows can, my hand finding hers. The moment our skin meets, the darkness shudders and peels back, like mist being burned away by daylight.
She gasps, pressing her other hand to her chest. “I felt him,” she whispers. “His anger. It just… crawled into me and I couldn’t stop it.”
“That’s because you’re wide open now.” I keep my voice low and steady, guiding her back to the counter, careful to keep my body between hers and the strangers. “Your magick and power are awake. It’s reaching for every emotion it touches, to protect the energy that’s yours.”
“How do I stop it?! Oh my gods, Flint, I can’t just be manifesting everyone else’s emotions. Or even just mine. Do you know how emotional I can get? For fucks sake, what happens when I get PMS?!”
“You don’t. You learn to listen, you learn to block. You train your powers the way you train for anything else.”
The old man leaves, muttering. Ash leans into the counter, shaking. I stand beside her, close enough that my breath stirs her hair.
Her eyes are wide, tears swimming. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
“You are so ready for this. This is part of who you are. And you, my love, are one strong, bad ass, witch.”
Like I had hoped, her tears dry. The shadows have vanished, but the air around her still smells like rain.
At least she didn’t cry in the bookstore. Betsy would be super pissed if Ash started crying in the shop and ruined all these books.
That evening, Annemarie comes over to hang out with Ash. I am entertaining myself with a book. Calida is sprawled on the bed. Annemarie brought her her own pizza so she’ll be comatose for, likely, the rest of the night. Anne and Ash are talking and I’m doing my best to tune them out, make them background noise.
A lovely family night in for all.
Until Annemarie finds an old playlist the two of them used to play after closing, all soft piano and melancholy words. Ash freezes mid-motion, one hand on a book, her eyes distant. I’m instantly on alert.
“I know this song,” she says, voice trembling. “I used to hum it to someone. A girl. She had—” she blinks. “Freckles. A laugh that was sweet, like bells.”
My heart sinks to my stomach.
