by Sarra Cannon
“Me, too,” I said.
And I realized that even though Kai had pretty much scared me half to death this morning and there were some weird things going on in this town, I was more grateful than ever to be surrounded by new friends.
Maybe this really was the fresh start I’d needed all along.
A Place of Legend
That afternoon, I turned down a second invitation from Peyton to join her and the others at Sir Bean.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to hang out with my new friends again, but rather that I wanted to avoid running into Kai. He’d rattled me this morning more than I realized, and I’d spent most of the day replaying our conversation in my head.
He was hellbent on getting me to back off, but why?
It was hard to imagine someone who didn’t even know the first thing about me was trying to keep me safe. So, the alternative was that he didn’t want me poking in his business because he had something important to hide.
He was involved in the disappearances in one way or another. I was sure of it.
As much as I didn’t want Martin telling me to stay out of it, I had decided to ask him what he knew about Kai. After our encounter this morning, I didn’t want to be stupid about this.
I had basically been threatened, and I wanted the most powerful person in my life to know about it. Just in case I went missing, too.
When I got home, though, I couldn’t find Martin anywhere.
His two cars were both still parked in the garage, though, so he had to be around here.
I checked his study on the first floor and then the kitchen. Those were his two favorite places in the house, as far as I knew, but there was no sign of him.
Upstairs was nothing more than a bunch of empty bedrooms and bathrooms, besides mine, but I didn’t find him in any of those empty rooms, either.
I was about to give up entirely when I heard voices echoing downstairs.
I followed the noise, assuming Martin had visitors in the kitchen. Only, the voices were coming from his study.
Strange. I’d just checked down here a few minutes ago.
I didn’t mean to sneak up on him, but the tension in his voice got my imagination running wild. Martin was usually so calm and controlled.
“I will not bring her into this unless I absolutely have to,” he said. “I won’t subject her to such speculation.”
“Lenny has a right to know,” a familiar voice said.
“That’s my decision to make. Not yours,” Martin said sternly.
“I have a right to know what?” I asked.
Martin turned toward me, his eyes growing wide for a moment. “How long have you been standing there, child?”
My stomach twisted into knots. I didn’t like the thought of anyone keeping secrets from me. Least of all the one person I trusted to look out for me.
“Long enough to hear you say you weren't going to tell me something, but not long enough to know what it is you’re hiding,” I said. “Is that Gianna?”
I stepped forward to get a better look, and I realized he’d been talking to the mirror on the wall near the door. I recognized my mother’s best friend on the other side of it, but before I could say hello, Martin swiped his hand across the glass and shook his head. Gianna’s image disappeared instantly.
“That was not meant for your ears,” he said. “I thought you were going out with friends after school today.”
I stared at him. Did he really think it would be that easy? That he could just dismiss me like that and expect me not to push?
“Well, I didn’t,” I said, crossing my arms. “I came home, instead. I looked for you, but you weren’t in here just a few minutes ago. Where were you?”
“Nonsense,” he said, walking past me so that I had to follow him down the hallway. “I was here in my study speaking with Gianna. You must not have seen me.”
I shook my head. That wasn’t possible.
There was no way I’d missed a six foot tall man speaking into a mirror.
I wanted to call him out on his lie, but I paused when he opened the door to the garage. I’d been expecting him to go to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee or something.
“Where are you going now?” I asked.
“We,” he said. “Where are we going.”
I followed him toward the black 1937 Cadillac he loved and adored. “Okay, where are we going, then?”
“Someplace I would have introduced you to many years ago if I’d had the chance,” he said, opening the passenger-side door and motioning for me to sit. “Get in.”
“What were you talking to Gianna about?” I asked. “You’re keeping some kind of secret from me now?”
Martin’s eyes met mine.
“I am keeping many secrets from you, Lenora. If you say you trust me, you have to trust me completely,” he said. “That means believing that I have your best interests at heart and will tell you what you need to know when I feel you must know it. Now, get in the car. I want to show you something.”
He walked around to the driver’s side, as if his words hadn’t been that big of a deal. As if keeping secrets from the people you loved was normal.
“I don’t want to go,” I said. “Not unless you tell me what you were talking about in there. Was it something about these missing girls in town?”
Martin stopped before getting into the car, his head towering over the top of the vehicle.
“What do you know about that?” he asked.
I sighed. “If we keep this up, we’re just going to trade questions all day,” I said. “I don’t want to do that.”
Martin nodded. “Good. No more questions,” he said. “Get in.”
I groaned. Okay, that had seriously backfired on me.
I didn’t really want to get in the car, but I’d been curious about Martin’s surprise since he’d first mentioned wanting to show me something. Besides, I had a feeling Martin wasn’t going to budge on answering my questions, anyway.
So, the only question to ask myself was did I trust him?
He waited patiently in the driver’s seat as I thought about my answer.
It didn’t take that long, though, for me to decide that yes, I did trust Martin. He’d been there for me this summer in a way no one else had, and I knew he loved me just as much as he’d always loved my father.
My father trusted Martin with his life, and I would do the same.
I opened the car door and got inside.
Neither of us spoke, but Martin let his emotions show for a moment with a slight grin that lifted his lips on the corners.
He drove us through Newcastle and out toward the edge of town. Blackbird Lake was pretty small, as far as lakes go, and it was surrounded by trees and cabins on all sides.
I’d heard my dad talk about it a lot, but even though I’d lived here in Newcastle for a few months, I’d never made it out here before now.
My dad had spent a lot of his childhood out here, because just like me, he’d moved in with Uncle Martin after the death of his own parents. Dad had only been eight when his parents died, though, which broke my heart.
Losing my parents at the age of seventeen wasn’t exactly how I had hoped things would go down for me, but I was so grateful I had as much time with them as I did.
A chill went through me as we drove out of town and into the thick expanse of woods that surrounded the lake area. It was like driving into a different dimension. The roads were bumpier out here, and there was hardly any sign of the sun through the canopy of trees above us.
I smiled as we passed an old gas station and bait shop called Old John’s. My dad had described its blue roof and giant plastic fish statue a hundred times, and being here now to see it with my own eyes was like recapturing a piece of him I’d almost forgotten.
“You’re taking me to the training ground?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the trees.
Martin didn’t answer, but I didn’t need him to. I’d been so preoccupied with my grief and the idea
of having to go to high school like a normal person that I’d completely forgotten about the training grounds out here.
I sat up straighter, watching with anticipation as we zipped through the curves and turns out here in the woods. We only passed a handful of cars, despite the warm, sunny weather. It was probably a totally different scene a week or two ago before school started back, but now, it was like a private little oasis in the middle of nowhere.
About ten minutes after we passed the bait shop, Martin slowed the Cadillac and turned down an overgrown path. I winced as we bumped along the drive, wondering if a car this old could really handle a road like this.
Martin seemed unconcerned, though, as he took us deeper into the trees.
When he finally stopped, I jumped out, anxious to see this place for myself. I ran forward and scanned the tall pine trees for the mark, smiling when I finally saw one.
A circle of thorns with crossed daggers and a rose in the center was branded into the tree in front of me about six feet up.
The Thorne family sigil.
It was hard to believe I was really here. In my mind, this had been a place of legend.
“Your father learned nearly everything he knew out here,” Uncle Martin said, crossing behind me to walk deeper into the woods.
I followed him back, taking it all in as we walked.
“It still doesn’t seem real that he’s gone,” I said, trying to place him here as a boy. “I always imagined that if I ever got to come out here, it would have been with him.”
Martin stood in a clearing about fifteen feet away, staring at it with the strangest expression, as though he were seeing something play out in front of him. His jaw tightened and his eyes glistened, and I realized for the first time just how hard it must have been for him to lose my father.
He’d raised him as his own son, in many ways, and I’d been so wrapped up in my own despair that I hadn’t even imagined someone strong like Martin might need comforting, too.
“I miss him,” I said, joining Martin in the clearing.
I slipped my hand into his, and he squeezed it for a long moment before clearing his throat.
“I didn’t bring you here to reminisce,” he said finally. “I brought you here to train. Your parents taught you well, but by the time your father was seventeen, he knew five times what you know now. It’s time I brought you up to speed, so that if you decide to take that test and join the ranks of Slayers, you’ll be able to hold your own. Now, let’s get started.”
Thirty minutes later, sweat beaded on my forehead as I stood in the center of the clearing in the woods.
“Grab another handful of dirt,” Martin said. “Try again.”
I groaned and did as he asked, taking another clump of damp earth in my hand.
When we first started, I had assumed I would show Martin just how much I knew and how far I’d come in the years since my parents had first started taking me along on some of their assignments.
Instead, I’d gotten my butt kicked.
I was used to daggers and spells. I had never tried to take something as basic as dirt and shape it with the power of my mind.
“Earth is an extremely powerful element,” he said. “It’s often overlooked, because it isn’t as flashy as fire, but it’s grounding. Its power goes deep inside and takes root. Focus on the dirt in your palm. Pour your power into it until it hums.”
I closed my eyes and focused on the feel of the cool, damp earth on my skin. I imagined my own energy flowing down my arm and into the dirt, surrounding it in glowing light.
Of course, there was no real light, but it was one of the best ways I could come up with to visualize what Martin was telling me to do.
The first few tries, nothing had happened.
This time, though, a gentle vibration buzzed through my hand and up my arm.
I smiled and opened my eyes. “I feel it,” I said.
“Don’t lose it,” Martin warned. “Feed it slowly. Pour yourself into it until it feels like it’s connected to you. Like it’s an extension of you.”
I let my instincts take over. I imagined the energy flow gradually increasing, bit by bit until my entire arm and shoulder buzzed with it.
“Good,” Martin said. “Now, close your eyes. Imagine a shape or object in your mind. Something simple.”
I pictured the first thing that came to mind. A small block, like a child’s toy.
“I’ve got it,” I said.
“Now, mold the earth into that shape,” Martin said.
“What incantation do I use?” I asked, opening my eyes for a moment.
He shook his head. “No incantation,” he said. “This type of manipulation spell doesn’t need it. It only needs your clear intent. All you need to do is focus, but do it loosely. Hold on too tight, and you will break the connection.”
I closed my eyes again and focused on the hum of the earth in my hands. I pictured it rearranging itself into a solid, stable cube of earth.
I poured my imagination and my power into it, and I could feel the edge of the break Martin was talking about. If I pushed any harder, my connection to the power inside the dirt would break and become useless.
Instead of pushing harder, then, I relaxed into it. I took several deep breaths and formed a clear picture of the object in my mind.
The vibrations against my skin increased, almost tickling me in a way, and I opened my eyes to see a block of dirt in my palm, perfectly formed.
“Wonderful start,” Martin said.
I smiled, pride soaring through me. But then, I frowned.
“What good is something this basic going to be against a vampire or a powerful demon someday?” I asked. “Am I supposed to just hit him in the head with a cube-shaped clump of dirt? Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to save my life in a bind.”
“Everyone starts with the basics,” Martin said, leading me back toward the car as the sun set.
I could just make out the purple and crimson hues through the trees.
“Magic is incremental. Transmutation is an enormously powerful form of magic,” he said. “This is transmutation in its most basic form, but this is how you learn. One tiny step at a time. No witch can harness the full power of any magical discipline when they are just starting out. This is the purpose of the witch’s key. You cannot draw so much magic that it burns you out or kills you, the way many witches did before the Council was formed. Instead, your magical capacity increases at the rate of your knowledge and skill.”
I wrapped my hand around the key hanging against my chest. It was nothing I hadn’t heard before, but I had never liked the idea that someone else had control of my fate and power as a witch. I could only move up to the next key if I passed the Council’s test.
“But what if I don’t want to be a part of the coven or answer to the Council?” I asked. “Would I still have access to my own power? Or am I bound to this key forever?”
Martin suppressed a smile and his eyes darted toward me.
“Dangerous questions for such a young witch,” he said.
“Nothing my parents didn’t ask themselves,” I said.
Martin stopped walking and turned toward me, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I used to hear them talk about the keys and the Council sometimes,” I said. “They questioned the idea of being held back until they had permission to access higher levels of magic. They talked about ways to lift the restrictions, things like that.”
“Hmm,” Martin said, resuming his walk toward the car.
It was hard to study his expressions in the growing darkness, but this seemed to be news to him. For some reason, it made me feel unsettled. Scared.
When we made it back to the Cadillac, he turned to me before starting it up again.
“I want you to promise me something, Lenny.”
I nodded. “Of course. Anything,” I said.
“Promise me you will never question the use of keys again,” he said. “You will never openly
express any doubts about the coven or the Witch’s Council to anyone outside of this family. Do you understand me?”
My eyes widened, and fear grew inside me like vines slithering across my insides.
“Why?” I asked. “Do you think—”
“Do you promise?” he asked, cutting me off.
I swallowed.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He relaxed, his shoulders falling back against the seat.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s not discuss this further. Now, what would you like for dinner?”
We talked about more mundane things on the drive home, but I couldn’t get the thought of Martin’s words out of my mind.
Did the Witch’s Council have something to do with the death of my parents? Had they done something wrong by questioning the keys or wanting more power?
I tossed and turned all night that night just thinking about it, waking only once to find a raven perched on the edge of the roof outside my window, its dark eyes blending in with the shadows.
Friends For A Lifetime
The rest of the week passed quickly enough. I got to hang out with my new friends almost every day at Sir Bean after school. It was fun, and I felt like I belonged in a way I never had before with people my own age.
That first week of school, I put my whole heart into experiencing life as a normal teenager. I even got a cell phone.
At first, the only number I had programmed in was Uncle Martin’s, but gradually, I started adding the numbers of my new friends. Friday afternoon at Sir Bean, Peyton snagged my journal and wrote her number at the top of the first empty page.
“So you can text me over the weekend,” she said, smiling. “And don’t forget about coming to my house to swim on Monday, too.”
I had grabbed my journal back as quickly as I could. I certainly didn’t want her reading about what I’d learned at the training grounds or my doubts about Kai’s true identity.
I still hadn’t figured that one out.
We hadn’t talked since that day he’d been waiting for me in front of the house. He must have decided I’d sufficiently backed down from my investigation, which is exactly what I’d done.