But John believed they failed to take their light. They had hurt them in a way that would never be fully repaired, and had managed to leave a mark of their evil that would last—in the form of a baby girl named Caroline. But they hadn’t taken their light. They hadn’t won. Until now.
It had taken twenty years, but they got what they wanted. They had turned them into villains.
atrick followed Caroline toward the house. The sky had a strange quality. Orange and blue and gray. A place with no season. No time. He could feel the absence in the air. It felt empty. Dead.
He didn’t know what any of this meant, but he knew this witch was powerful. He knew he didn’t have much skill himself, but he had never seen a wizard create anything close to this. A repelling spell maybe, but she had created her own universe inside the real one. He didn’t know much about the magical world, but he knew that was unusual. That was the stuff for fantasy novels and movies, not real magic.
He felt compelled to follow her, as if he’d walked in this direction for long time, and only now knew where he had meant to go.
They didn’t enter the house, She led him around the side, and pointed to a single wooden dining chair.
“Have a seat,” she said.
Patrick couldn’t deny her, so he sat.
“Where are they? Inside?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I told you. I’m everything.”
Nothing visible bound him to the chair, but he couldn’t move. His arms stuck to his sides and his ankles couldn’t uncross, as if invisible ropes bound him. Jude had done something similar the last time Patrick had seen him. He paralyzed him with magic, but only for a moment, just enough to throw him off while he ran out of the house forever. But it had been a passing stumble compared to this.
“Do you know what prax potentia is?” Caroline asked.
“No.”
Her shoulders slumped, as if she had hoped for a different reaction.
“Well, then I guess I’ll have to teach you.” She walked closer to him and leaned down, close enough he could tell she smelled of strawberries, but not in a pleasant way. It had a vile sweetness about it, like rotten fruit.
“It’s a fun game, because everyone is different. Summer wizards are so easy. Getting power from them is like squeezing juice out of a big ripe grapefruit.” She said it with relish and Patrick winced, thinking of Julie.
“But the winter witch is harder,” she continued. “Working with her is like trying to squeeze juice from an apple with my bare hands. She bears the marks of previous spells. Perhaps there is a limit to how much can be taken from one person, and she’s been sucked dry. Or, perhaps, she’s become practiced at shielding herself. Or, considering she’s a winter solstice witch, maybe she’s too dark. Has no soul to take.”
“How could you torture your own little sister?” He didn’t know their relation for sure, but he thought it was a safe bet.
“I’m going to teach you something about magic. It may not be what you want to hear, but it’s true. The most powerful wizards are good at seeing the big picture. They think long-term. End result. The main thing that keeps most wizards from reaching their full potential is distraction. Most wizards are easily distracted by the details. And Julie is a detail.”
“She’s not a detail. She’s your sister.”
“The world’s most powerful wizards, even the ones who excel at their craft, are still missing out on the true potential of magic. In truth, wizards today are pretty pathetic. If wizards realized their abilities as a group, we would be extremely successful. Wealthy, powerful, and living unnaturally long lives in blissful happiness. But it’s the opposite. As a group, we’re pathetic humans beings. On the whole, less successful than the Mundanes. How sick is that? Wizards today either repress their magic or destroy themselves. It’s tragic. It’s a terrible waste. We could be living better lives, but also making the world a better place. So many would give anything for just a taste of power beyond human, and we burn through it without a second thought.
“And I can tell you why this has happened. It’s because wizards are too polarized. Even the best wizards in the world only excel at their type of magic. We’re so keen on classifying ourselves and focusing on one specialty. And that’s extremely foolish. Magic has four seasons. And using any less than all four is like driving a car without all its wheels. However, only focusing on one season has become the norm. Because of this, wizard magic is unbalanced, imprecise, ineffective, and dangerous.
“Absorbing the magic from each solstice is a start. That’s what gives me the power. With the equinoxes, I get the precision. Even without spring, I can use you to moderate and focus the winter and summer. Everything is going to change from here on out. With each one I collect, I get stronger, and calling the rest gets easier, faster. So, now it won’t be much longer until spring comes too. Which is good, because the siren spell I cast to get you all here was taking way…too…long.”
She cocked her head at him and examined him like a science project. “The basic theory behind prax potentia is simple, but it can be complicated. It’s both a science and an art. Every subject is different. You have to find the right way to make them hurt. It takes perception and subtlety.”
Patrick scoffed.
“What?”
“I’ve seen what you’ve been doing to Julie, at least I’ve seen the effects. You’ve been burning her with a wire hanger or something. That’s what you mean by a science and an art? Any idiot can cause pain. It doesn’t take any skill at all. You only need to be a disgusting and worthless human being. Which you are. Congratulations.”
“You’ve seen it? Jesus. That’s impressive, Patrick. I think I’m going to like practicing on you. I’m not sure what will work, but I have some ideas I’m looking forward to trying out.”
Caroline took his hand, and he couldn’t resist. She pressed the soft skin between his fingers and his hand erupted in pain. All the nerves in his hand and arm spasmed. White fog floated in his vision. He thought he might pass out. He wanted to pass out. The pain surpassed anything he had ever experienced. The whole world disappeared and nothing existed but pain. Nothing mattered other than getting it to stop.
Caroline released his hand. His vision remained cloudy, but the pain receded. Just the absence of the pain was a beautiful feeling.
“Please…don’t…” he said. He noticed his eyes were wet with tears and he hated himself for it.
Caroline laughed lightly, as if she where chatting with girlfriends at Happy Hour.
“Awww…Patrick. I suspected as much. The only person who would talk about physical pain in such a dismissive way is someone who had never experienced it. You don’t know shit about pain, Patrick. You’ve lived a cushy little life. And in response to your claim from before, no I did not burn her with a wire hanger. I’m a motherfucking witch. And I can make people hurt in ways you can’t imagine.”
The pain had passed, but the fear of its return was torture in itself. I’m a motherfucking wizard, too, he thought. He should at least try to counter her. He thought maybe if he concentrated hard enough, he could get her to stop. Or, he could hurt her. He could do something.
But before he could form a singular spell, she hit him again. She placed her fingers on either side of his knee now, and activated the nerves up and down his leg, from his toes to his groin, but the pain felt bigger than that. It was everywhere.
“No…no…no,” he managed to grunt, thinking maybe he could use some magic against her, but he couldn’t. He screamed. A horrible, pathetic sound.
She let go of him again. His body had tensed against the pain, so his muscles still ached.
“What do you want from me?” he asked. That is how these things work, right? Torture. She needed some kind of information, or something. Without knowing what she wanted, he felt desperate to give it to her. He would tell her anything. Do anything. And he hated himself so much for it. He had alway
s assumed he was a better man. The heroes in the movies who would die for a cause. Suffer pain gladly if it was the right thing to do. But he couldn’t stand a few minutes of torture. Pathetic. An embarrassment.
“Wow, it’s already working,” Caroline said. “This is going to be so easy. It’s kind of disappointing. I had hoped more from one of my kind. I’ve met so few. I thought you would be better. More like me.”
Patrick looked up at her, but didn’t respond.
“Well, what kind of wizard did you think I was, anyway?” She rolled her eyes. “Winter, maybe, because I’m so bad? Or summer, because I’m from a family of summer wizards? Nope. I’m fall, like you. It’s why I’m so good at what I do. I have a keen sense of cause and effect. How to manipulate multiple factors toward a goal. I’m sure you’ve noticed, most summer and winter wizards are idiots playing with fire. Just seeing who can make the biggest bang. Not us. We’re ten steps ahead of them all of the time. But you’re the one who is supposed to be the equinox wizard. You’re supposed to be better than me, right? I mean, of course, not for much longer. So, how does me torturing you fit into your master plan?”
She laughed.
“You’re going to lose,” Patrick said. “I don’t know how. But you will. You’re right. I’ve seen things you can’t. And Julie, Evangeline, and I…we’re all going to live to suffer another day.” He laughed now. A weak, crazy laugh, but a laugh. Because, he was right. They would survive this, he knew because he’d seen worse. More pain. More suffering. God hadn’t finished punishing them, not by a long shot.
Caroline leaned close again, and this time put one pink manicured finger on each of his temples. His body tensed before the pain hit. He couldn’t imagine pain worse than he had already experienced…until it came.
vangeline moved toward the light. She couldn’t see the light with her eyes, or feel the warmth with her flesh. But she could still find it, because she was a witch. She could see the things everyone else ignored. She had been trying to get to the light every day, but it was hard to move with her hands and legs bound. She had to crawl like an inchworm under the house where the woman kept her—locked in the hollow foundation like a lost raccoon. But she wasn’t alone. There was the light.
She had known the light was a person before she heard her breathing. As Evangeline crawled closer, the person, the girl, breathed heavier. And Evangeline knew she had frightened her.
But she didn’t stop. She crawled closer, her hands bound. Dirt embedding into the cuts and burns the woman had given her. She knew what the woman was trying to do. She had been part of this kind of spell before. Prax potentia. The practice of power—the easiest way to take magical power from a person. And all you had to do was hurt them. Take their power. Take their hope.
If the light was what Evangeline thought it was, then they might have hope. She might see her family again. And see all the color and the light of the world.
The light’s breath caught, and she sounded like she was crying.
“It’s okay,” Evangeline said.
“Are you a demon?” asked the light.
“No, I’m a girl, like you.”
“You can’t be. You’re so dark.”
Evangeline knew she was. As a winter solstice witch, she was the darkest dark. And in a place so full of darkness and pain, she would blend in to the background as if invisible.
“I’m a girl,” Evangeline said again.
Evangeline flinched when she felt hands. But with a steadying breath, she let the other girl touch her. Feel her arms, and her face. This girl didn’t have her hands bound as Evangeline did. Maybe she was past that. Maybe she had stopped fighting.
“You are a girl,” she said.
“You are Julie, right?”
“Yes, who are you?”
“My name is Evangeline.”
“You are a girl like me, and that means…”
Julie’s voice was lost, as if sucked away by wind.
Then she found her voice again. “You must be winter.”
“Yes.”
“Then she’s won. She has us both. The light and the dark. It’s over.”
“No.”
“That’s good. Then, maybe she’ll kill us. And it will really be over.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“I do.”
When Evangeline had walked through Caroline’s concealment spell, she hadn’t been afraid. She felt like Alice walking into Wonderland. Cold air had rushed from the sky and the wind whipped her hair off her sweaty neck. The cold made her feel fresh and clean. Droplets of ice crystallized on the pine needles as if the forest were dripped in stars.
Even when the winter passed, she still walked in amazement. Before this, Patrick’s concealment spell had been the best she’d ever seen. This concealment spell fell into it’s own category. Concealment, repulsion, illusion, display—all sorts of magic wrapped into one massive, impenetrable spell like nothing she had ever seen.
She had been thrilled to meet the wizard who had created this world within a world. She had wanted to meet the person who could push the boundaries of usual magic. She wanted to learn from them, and to honor them.
However, Caroline was just another predator…who happened to be good at magic. Evangeline tried to fight. She cast every defensive spell she could think of, but Caroline was the better witch. Once she bound her with magic, she bound her with duct tape too, just in case Evangeline broke the paralyzing spell.
Caroline talked a lot. About her plans. About how she was better than everyone. However, after Caroline started making Evangeline hurt, she talked less. Evangeline thought she could handle the pain, but Caroline could make her hurt in new ways she couldn’t have imagined. All Evangeline could do was cry. She kept thinking about Xavier and her new family, but she tried to push the thoughts away. The belief she might be safe again would make it harder. Hope was dangerous.
She knew all about prax portentia. She knew Caroline wished to take her power, as her stepfather had.
She didn’t think she had much left to give, but she might have been wrong. The more Caroline hurt her, the more depleted she felt. Caroline would take long pauses to simply stare at Evangeline. She had a look of concentration and annoyance. Something about Evangeline didn’t sit right with Caroline. Something bothered her. So she went at her harder. Evangeline watched the skin on the arms bubble and blister even though no fire touched her. Eventually she passed out.
When she woke up, she felt different. Caroline’s spell had worked. Something was missing inside her, but it might not have been what Caroline expected. Caroline had left her and the worst of the pain had passed. Evangeline felt adrenaline rushing through her body. The world felt oddly clear and silent, as if everything had moved into sharper focus. She felt clean again, like she had when the winter wind enveloped her.
Something had gone out in her, and left a pleasant absence in its wake. She felt darker, and in this darkness, she could see light more clearly. She could see Caroline a few rooms over—not her body, but her life. Evangeline could see her life, light a little light inside her. At that moment, she realized she had a power that few wizards had.
She could reach into Caroline and snuff out that light, like extinguishing a candle with her finger.
Now she only needed to figure out how.
David thought it had to be getting late, but the day went on forever. The sun refused to set until it had finished with them. Driving Thea’s car felt surreal. She had given over her keys, but had gotten in with him. He didn’t stop her. To stop her, he’d have to attack her again, and he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t do anything else to delay saving his kids. He’d already been misdirected more than enough.
So, he tried to ignore the woman sitting next to him. He tried to ignore James’s blood on her knees. He tried to ignore the fact that her husband had murdered her brother. And that she had admitted to burning not only his house, but unexpectedly, the development in Tangled Forest. And he tried to ignore t
hat everything about her—body and soul—made him want to rip the hair from his head. He kept saying to himself, distraction, distraction, distraction. The magic wanted his kids at the forest, and wanted him away. And the magic would do anything to keep him away. James couldn’t be helped. Thea’s fires had already burned out. But the one in the forest continued to burn.
Thea stared out the window with rapt attention. She leaned away from him and sat frozen, as if he might not see her there if she didn’t move. He doubted any two people had ever driven in a car together so silently. Even though theirs was the only car other than fire trucks and police cars that headed toward the flames, no one stopped them, or noticed them at all. David wondered if he had cast a spell on accident, or perhaps Thea had cast one on purpose. But his unrelenting determination to reach his kids felt so powerful it had to be magic. Nothing would stand in his way. He wouldn’t let it.
“You lied,” David said.
Thea ignored him.
“I just don’t know why. What you said about burning down the development was true. And what you said about starting the fire at my house was true. But when you said you wanted us dead. When you said you wanted my children to suffer and die, you were lying then. You can’t lie to me. Reading people is one of my specialties. You didn’t want us to die at all. If you had, you would have set the fire differently. But no. You designed a fire that was dramatic, but stayed on the surface. You put us in danger…and you’re not going to get away with that. But you wanted us to make it out alive.”
“No, I didn’t,” she said without looking at him. “If you don’t kill me, I’ll try again. I’ll kill your whole family. And it will be your fault, because you were too weak to kill me. Because you’re a coward.”
“You’re still lying. I just can’t figure out why. If you want to die so badly, take your own life. Use the gun on yourself. Or, maybe you think God won’t let you into Heaven that way? Is that it? You have to be murdered by a dark wizard to make the cut?”
“I don’t want to die. But if someone has to, it will be me.”
Watch Me Burn: The December People, Book Two Page 20