by R. M. Walker
“You mean to tell me she told you her side of things and didn’t let you know how she feels about magic?” he asked sceptically.
“She told me she viewed it as a curse. I don’t think she did at first though.”
“That family always viewed it as a curse, and Lynda was no different. Ask her what she did when she found Sarah casting magic.”
“She told me already. She followed her, found her in the orchard. She said she watched her and that Sarah knew she was there. She said it brought them closer, and they shared secrets after that.”
He snorted, and his eyebrows went up.
“You don’t think it was like that?” she asked.
“She was close to Sarah, but she didn’t like her magic. She never did. She feared it; and what people fear, they hate. She was no different. She viewed it as a curse long before I messed up. The apple didn’t fall very far from the tree when it came to opinions on magic. Why do you think she tried to suppress it in you? She could have used it to keep you both better hidden. You didn’t answer my question though, why did she suddenly up the tablets?”
“I was having more seizures, and it was worrying her.”
He snorted again and shook his head. “Let’s drop the subject of your aunt for now, it’s not good for my blood pressure.” He licked his fingertips and snuffed out the candle. “Focus on the candle, and light it with your mind.”
She stared at him. “I think I’m more capable of reading ancient Arabic.”
He laughed. “C’mon, at least give it a try. What’ve you got to lose?”
She huffed out her breath. “I have no idea where to start.”
“Look at the candle, focus on the wick, and will it to burn.”
She frowned, looked at the wick, and wasn’t at all surprised when nothing happened.
“You’ve got to believe in yourself. You can do this; I know you can. You’re a witch.”
“Not a Seer?”
He tilted his head in question, a frown puckering the skin between his eyes. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Just a thought,” she said vaguely. “I’ve had funny turns that seemed like images.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, I only saw coloured patterns before. Now they’ve changed to images, people, places. It’s odd, like looking through someone else’s photo album.” She saw something flicker through his eyes, but it was gone before she could pinpoint what it was.
“Those tablets were like stuffing a hole in a bucket with cotton wool then expecting it to carry water without leaking. Eventually it was going to break free, especially as you got closer to eighteen. There’s no way to tell what your magic was doing while it was being suppressed by her, but it was still there. Like I told you before, the craft is always passed down in my bloodline. Every time with no exceptions. My grandfather to my mother, mother to me, me to you, you’ll pass it to your child and so on. There are no breaks in our ancestral line, and you’re no different. You have the craft. You have the ability to look at that candle and make it burn. You just need to believe it.”
She looked again at the candle, and still nothing happened. She pulled a face. “I’m not so sure you’ve got it right.”
“Oh, I do. Tell me what you’re doing. Are you looking at it and expecting it to burn?”
“Do I need to cast some sort of spell?” She’d never seen Nate say anything before he lit a candle, he just snapped his fingers. So did Jonas. Drew didn’t; Drew looked at it, and the wick caught.
“No spell. Creating fire is just something you can do without spellcasting. You can control fire without even being near it. When you caught your flat on fire, I knew you were in danger, but I’d no idea what the danger was as I was in Oxford. I cancelled office hours and did a projection spell. Not like I did in the manor, just enough to see where you were and what was wrong. I kept the fire back from you until the fire brigade got there. That’s why the fire was contained to one side of the room for so long. Didn’t they tell you how lucky you were? That you should have died in there?”
She frowned. “I don’t remember much about it, other than what Mum said. But she didn’t say anything about it being close. We moved as soon as I was out of the hospital and never really spoke about it again.”
“Of course not, because she knew that it was me that made damn sure you didn’t burn to death. She ran away again.” He waved his hand in the air. “We’re off topic. What I was trying to say was—”
“You saved my life?” She watched his face closely.
“You’re my daughter, Lily. I love you. Why wouldn’t I save you if I could?” He smiled at her.
She drew in a breath, not expecting to ever hear those words from him, from her father. Believing him dead had never really impacted her life beyond a sadness that she never knew him. But now she had a chance to build a relationship with him, and it filled her with a hopeful warmth.
He winked at her and pointed at the candle. “Look at the candle. Your magic is there, just waiting for you to command it. Will the candle to do what you want it to do. It’s yours to command. You can do this. I believe in you.”
She bit her lip. Could she do this? Only Nate and Jonas could control fire. The others weren’t able; their gifts lay elsewhere. Was that because they weren’t witches but fae? She looked at him then at the wick, willing it to light.
“See the flame, Lily. Watch it burn. Make it burn. Command it to do your will.”
His words were whispered, and they curled around her. She concentrated on the wick, imagining it lit, how the flame would flicker before remaining steady. She blinked and sat back in surprise.
The candle was alight.
“I knew you could do it. I knew it! Well done!” Drew clapped his hands together.
“I did that?” She looked between him and the candle in disbelief. “You didn’t do it?”
He rolled his eyes. “Why would I fool you into thinking you did it? I get the denial, I really do. Eighteen years is a long time to believe yourself to be one way just to find out you’re special.”
“I’m not special.”
“Oh, you’re special, believe me. Try again.” He snuffed out the candle with his licked fingers and pointed at it. “Go on. Again.”
She concentrated on the wick again, seeing the flame in her mind. It spluttered into life and burned steadily. “I did it!” An exhilarating rush of power went through her, and she beamed.
“Yes, you did.” He smiled.
She watched the flame as it danced. A feeling of pride mingled with awe settled inside her. Was it the same sort of fire that Nate created? Could she touch it safely without getting burnt? She reached forwards and put her palm over the flame, pulling it back with a yelp when it burnt her.
“What the hell did you do that for?” He snuffed out the flame and caught her hand in his. She could see the redness of the skin and the start of the blister. It smarted painfully and tears welled in her eyes as she tried to blow on it.
“I didn’t realise it was real fire.”
“Well, bloody hell, Lily, what sort of fire did you think it was if it wasn’t real?” He got up from the table. “Get it under the cold tap. I’ve got some ointment that will take the pain away.”
She did as she was told as he crossed to the cabinet and drew down a glass jar with a green looking goo inside. She eyed it warily as she held her palm under the cold water.
“Why didn’t you think it was real?” he asked as he brought out gauze and bandages.
“Well, I thought... well, I just...” She faded out, not sure what to say. “I just... not all magic fire can burn though. Can it?” she added the last bit lamely, not meeting his eyes.
“Okay, I won’t ask again. You can tell me in your own time. But you’re going to have to, ‘cause whoever you’re speaking to, or whatever books you’re reading, they’re wrong. You didn’t create fire, you just used it. There’s a difference. You’re a witch;
you can use any of the elements that you want. There are certain creatures that are restricted to what elements they can use. Like fairies for example...” He looked at her with his head tilted to one side and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, this is the moment where you’re supposed to be shocked that fairies are real.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “I just learnt that my parents are witches and that I can light candles with nothing but my mind. I think I’m past the point of shock.”
He grinned at her and turned the tap off. “Good point. Go and sit down.”
She went back across to the table, looking at her palm. A painful blister had formed.
“So fairies can’t create fire?” she asked. She knew full well they could, but it would give her an idea as to whether he did know what he was talking about. She heard him wash his hands at the sink before coming over.
“Yes, well, some of them can. You can generally tell the fire fairies, they’re an arrogant bunch with tempers to match.” He laughed and set the things on the table, before scooting his chair around beside hers. “They have power over fire, so they can light candles with real fire. But they can create a form of fire as well, one that will give off light and heat but not burn anything. It’s probably the only gift I envy of fairies.”
“You can’t do that then? Create a fire that won’t burn?” She winced when he gently blotted her hand dry, keeping away from the burn.
“No, we can’t create that kind of fire, Lily. It’s you as well.”
“I may not be shocked easily now, but it’s still going to take time to sink in.” She watched as he opened the lid on the jar and scooped something out on his finger. She pulled a face at the goo. “Oh, gross, what is that?”
“Aloe, plantain, comfrey, chickweed, and a few drops of witch hazel and lavender. Lavender will stop it from getting infected,” he said.
“You made it yourself?”
“Yes. Now things are more... well, out in the open, I’d like you to re-think learning this sort of thing with me. I want to teach you everything I know, and hedge magic is a good start and useful.”
He gently spread the mixture over the burn, and she relaxed as the coolness of it instantly eased the pain. He covered it with a piece of gauze then bandaged it. She looked up at his bent head, his hair was as dark as her own, with a hint of a wave in the long lengths that fell around his face. His hands were strong, capable, and gentle as he bound her hand. It seemed odd to think of him as her father, but at the same time, it was something she found herself wanting. As far as she could tell, he’d been honest with her. Nothing he’d said contradicted what Lynda, or the boys, had told her.
He lifted his head and caught her eyes. Humour sparkled in their depths. “Don’t try that again, okay?”
She grinned at him. “No, I won’t. And I would like to learn this.” She waved her other hand at the jar on the table. “If you’d teach me.”
His smile lit his eyes up, and smiling back at him was easy and natural. It opened a need that she didn’t even knew she had, a need to see what having a father was like.
“All done. Keep it clean. Nip in tomorrow, and I’ll change the dressing for you. Day or two and you should be good as new. That ointment will stop it from scarring as well. Want another go?” He indicated where the candle still sat on the table.
She concentrated on the wick, willing it to flicker into life. The flame shot high, dancing erratically before becoming a steady column of golden fire.
She’d done that. Her. She’d wanted it to burn, and it had done just that. Tingles shot through her, running down her arms and into her fingers, and it made her draw her breath in through her nose.
“You can feel the magic, can’t you?” he asked.
“Yeah, it tingles.”
“It’s finally doing what it should do: running through your veins, literally.” He waved his hand over the table. Several candles appeared. “If you keep working at it and learn to control it, you can use it. Watch.” He indicated the candles again as half of them lit up. They went out, and then the remaining half lit. She watched in delight as they lit and went out in succession.
He let them all remain unlit, and then he tapped her arm. “You try it now.”
She looked at the candles doubtfully. She didn’t think she’d be able to do that.
“Try. You’ll never know if you don’t try,” he encouraged. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
She concentrated hard, willing them to light, willing the flames to dance and burn on each candle. A few burnt strongly then went out, sending black smoke into the air. She sat back. Exhaustion washed over her, as if she’d run a mile. She felt a trickle running down her face, and when she wiped her nose, her fingers came away red.
“Okay, I think that’s enough for one day,” he said, handing her cotton wool. “Whatever is in those tablets is still in your system. Give it a day or two to go. I should have thought about that before trying to push you a bit. Sorry. Don’t take any more. Get me a couple, and we’ll take them apart and see what was in them.”
“We can do that? Take them apart?” she asked, wiping at her nose.
He nodded at her, his eyes on her nose as she wiped it. “Yes, we can do that easily. No magic is involved, just science for that. Well, there is a bit of magic, but I’ll do that.”
“Can I practise lighting candles?”
“Yes, just don’t overdo it until we know what’s in them. I think it’s just an inhibitor, like a blocker. Some plants will inhibit magic if ingested. I should have checked it out a long time ago. I don’t know why I didn’t.” He frowned darkly, self-condemnation clear in his voice. “Maybe I should even have put a stop to it, made sure she couldn’t get her hands on them. I wasn’t in a position to help you learn the craft, so blocking it was better than you being left with her to cope though.”
She watched as with a wave of his hand he sent the candles away. She stared at the empty table. It was hard to believe that the candles had ever been there, that she’d made them burn just by wanting it.
“Can I ask you a question?” He touched her arm briefly to get her attention. His face was serious, none of the humour remained.
She nodded.
“It’s early days, I know that, but I want you to consider staying with me during the half-term holidays. Would you think about it?”
“Stay here for the holidays?” She was surprised by his question.
“No, Wells. It’s not far from Glastonbury.” He shifted in his seat. “It’s where you were born. We could kill two birds with one stone. Glastonbury is a magical high. Even people with no magic at all can sense something in the air there. It’s almost dead here compared to Glastonbury, stifling. It’s like a heavy woollen blanket over the mind. If you can accomplish magic here, you won’t know yourself at home.”
“What do you mean dead here?” She frowned. Jonas had said there were several ley lines here and that was why the flowers grew in the circle when she went into it. She wasn’t going to tell him that though.
“Ley lines run through the land. You’ve heard of them?”
“Yeah, like some sort of mystical energy that runs a line from one place to another.”
“Sort of; it’s a chain of energy created from when our ancestors walked to sacred sites. It’s the life force. Nwyfre is the druid term for it. If you walk the old ley lines or stay near them, you can feel the life force of the earth. It connects with the magic in us and...” He hesitated, searching for an appropriate word. “Well, I suppose you could say it ‘hums’. That’s not right though. You’ll know when you hit a ley line. You’ll feel it. It’ll run through you and energise not just you, but your magic. If you walk a ley line barefoot, your magic will light up. It’s an incredible experience. If you stay with me, I can take you to the ley lines criss-crossing the area, and you’ll see what I mean.”
Lily remained quiet. She remembered the feeling she’d got standing in the circle in the woo
ds, and she knew what he meant about how it felt. She wasn’t going to tell him that either.
Her phone rang again, and he rolled his eyes. “That’ll be the boys just checking to make sure I haven’t got to the sacrifice part I expect.”
“They worry about me,” she said defensively. “They don’t trust you.”
“I know. For some stupid reason they think I’m after you. Well I am, just not for the reasons they thought. Have you told them yet?”
“Yeah, I stayed with them last night. I told them that Lynda wasn’t my mum and that you’re my father.”
“I bet that went down well. Answer it. You’ll give them early heart failure otherwise. Ten to one it’s Nate.”
Lily answered the call.
“Where are you? Are you still there? We’ve been waiting ages. We’re in the car park. Do you need us to come and get you?” Nate barked into her ear.
“I’m fine. I’m going to leave in a minute, okay? Can you wait for me there?” She watched Drew get up and put away the ointment and box of bandages. He was smirking, and she knew he was laughing at them.
“Of course we’ll wait,” Nate replied.
“Couple of minutes, okay?” She ended the call and put her phone away. “I’d better go. They’re just worried.”
“I know, I know.” He turned and held up his hands to her, smiling kindly. “I get it. Just be careful, that’s all I want. I know you think they’re great kids, and they might be. Just make sure you know what you’re doing. Don’t let them push or talk you into anything you’re either not ready for or you don’t want to do.”
“I won’t. But it’s not nearly as sordid as it sounds.” She crossed to the door and looked back at him. He leant against the counter, arms folded over his chest, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle.
“Go on, Lily. You’ve enough to think about. You know where I am to talk things through when you’re ready. There are still questions you haven’t asked, or at least not the right ones.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s just semantics.”
“Like I said before, if you want the truth, wording is everything. Now go! Oh, and I expect you back in college tomorrow morning. All of you!”