"With magic? Sure. Um, how?" A movie montage of possibilities played in my head. Wiggle my nose? Cross my arms and blink? Wait, that's not even a witch thing. Flick my finger or maybe just blow the flame to life.
"Use your intentions. See the flame, feel the heat, and focus your magic on making it happen. The method is unimportant, it's the intention that counts." Salem held the candle out to me and smile encouragement.
Okay, Lexi, you can do this.
Eyes closed, I pictured the candle sparking and catching fire. When I had the image firmly in my mind, complete with heat and the smell of melting wax, I opened my eyes and blew gently on the wick. I'm telling you it was the strangest sensation. I felt the fire flow out of me.
And then the candle blew up. Sparks shooting, wax melting, and Salem snarling an ouch that sounded like an angry cat.
"What part of hearing about my former companions blowing up did you fail to understand? Are you trying to freak me out?"
"I'm sorry, I don't know what I did wrong."
"Talk about using a five-pound sledge to drive in a tack. Holy cats, Lexi. Pull it back a little." Salem peeled the melted wax off his palm while giving me a dirty look. The second candle went into a saucer-style holder.
"Try again."
Five candles later, Salem was picking cooled wax out of his hair and I was close to tears.
"I'm done for today." Sweat dribbled down my back and I felt like I had run a marathon. This magic making business was harder work than I expected. Salem practically carried me upstairs and into my bedroom where I fell asleep before my cheek hit the pillow.
Chapter Thirteen
"Something happened last night." I had to say it three times with increasing volume before the petty bickering stopped. Vaeta shot me an annoyed glance for interrupting her during a hot retort that I took for the faerie equivalent of I'm rubber and you're glue.
Evian, the glue in this scenario, turned all sweetness and light. "Tell us all about it, dear." I didn't miss the scorching glare she tossed at Vaeta or the screw you look Vaeta returned.
"It all started the other day when Serena..."
"What did that little witch do to you? I'll turn every hair on her body black." Terra interrupted, and while the visual of Serena looking freakishly hairy was satisfying, I really wanted to get through my story.
"Shut up, Terra. Let the girl tell us what happened." Soleil gestured for me to continue, which I did, but not without an exaggerated eye roll.
"Serena took it upon herself to explain what would happen if I couldn't muster up enough magic to keep the Balefire going on my own." My tone implied that this was information I should have gotten from friends instead of an enemy. "She was quite emphatic that she could handle the job, and thrilled to take over the name Balefire."
"That girl doesn't have enough power to keep a candle lit, much less the Balefire."
"I appreciate the sentiment. There's more, though." This wasn't going to be a short explanation, so I took a seat at the table and waited for the four of them to do the same, and then blurted out, "I went to Athena's for new ingredients, did the spell, and it worked." I guess there was a short version of the story after all.
"Then you're..." Evian broke the stunned silence.
"Awakened to my fullest potential." Elated, I practically chirped and waited for the cheerful, happy noises to begin.
Crickets.
Even Vaeta sported a frown. "By herself? Wasn't she supposed to have..."
"Isn't that simply wonderful news." Terra pushed away from the table to stalk around in circles. The sting of sarcasm in her tone tipped me off that my godmothers weren't seeing things in a happy light.
"I thought it was, but apparently not." Unexpected anger welled up fast and hot. "Thanks a heap. It's not like I expected champagne and party hats, but a simple "congratulations" doesn't seem like it would be too much. You know, this is coming what? Only ten years late, so it's not like it's a big accomplishment or anything, considering how close it came to never happening at all. Carry on ladies." I flounced away. Yeah. That's right, I said flounced. I knew it was a juvenile reaction, and I didn't care. Sometimes temper tantrums happen.
"Lexi..." Soleil's soft voice followed me out of the room.
Slamming a door that is subject to a silencing charm is about as satisfying as the sensation of a tickle in your nose that produces no sneeze. No sound, not even a muffled whump accompanied the visual of the door shaking into its frame. Knowing Terra slapped the charm on there just to gyp me out of the satisfaction of the slam, I saw red. Actual red. Until that moment, I didn't even know that was a thing.
For a few minutes, I stomped around the room, and then, thoroughly humiliating myself, I burst into tears. Terra's ill-timed remark had tarnished my shining moment from sparkling silver to deepest black.
"They're not angry with you. You know that, right?" Two years of my life flitted away in an adrenaline-fueled rush when Salem spoke up unexpectedly. That was going to take some getting used to.
"I'm putting a bell around your neck if you don't stop doing that." Gracefully, Salem rose from the depths of a fur-covered polka-dotted beanbag chair in hot pink that looked like it hailed from the Jim Henson collection and came to rub his cheek against mine in a catlike manner. I don't mind telling you I found the gesture both sweet and entirely unsettling. But, it worked. The touch of his warm skin soothed away the hurt feelings and I gave him a scratch under the chin for his efforts. I know how that sounds odd and I'm sure it looked worse, but what can I say? My life has taken a left turn into Weirdsville lately.
"Why aren't they happy for me, though? I give them the best news I've had in a long time and all I get is a snotty response." Slumping down on the bed, I picked with restless fingers at the chenille fibers on the bedspread. Terra's reaction had cut me to the bone.
"Oh, sweetie, don't you understand? You just told the three women who raised you that you don't need them anymore. Of course, they're upset."
"I never said any such thing." At least I didn't mean to. "They're my family. Even if it was their job to take care of me, they've never made me feel like I was a burden."
Salem stared at me without blinking for a lot longer than a normal human could.
"You really have no idea how faerie godmothers work, do you?"
"Sure I do..." I started to defend myself hotly, then realized I might be overstating. "Tell me."
He settled back onto the beanbag, his favored spot. "Normally it's one faerie godmother per witch and they watch from a distance. Most witches will never even meet their faerie godmother in person because you have to screw up royally before one shows up and then there's the cost. With faeries, there's usually a price for their help, even when they are doing their job."
"Then they haven't...they didn't..." It was a new perspective and a lot to take in all at once.
"Nope."
"And they're..." I waved a hand to express words that wouldn't come.
"Yep."
"I owe them an apology, don't I?" I levered myself up off the bed to go eat a well-earned snack of crow. On toast. With a big slice of humble pie.
"A big one, sweets. Bring me a tuna sandwich?"
I waggled my fingers over my shoulder and opened the door the sound of complete pandemonium. Turning around and hiding in my bedroom tempted me to the point of taking a step back inside where the silencing charm would wrap me in its boon of peace. Or it would have, if the charm hadn't dissolved the second I opened the door.
Unfortunately, this fight had been mine to start and that also made it mine to end.
Shouting, booming noises, an ominous fizzling sound, and fog greeted me a the top of the stairs. Faerie-geddon round 957, oh goodie. The banister felt ice-cold and slick under my hand, and probably would be useless in stopping my descent if I lost my footing--which I did just two stairs from the bottom.
Way to make an entrance, Lexi--I thought as I windmilled my arms to regain my balance.
Fol
lowing the path of destruction, I straddled a swath of quicksand in the lower hall, and picked my way through the kitchen. Surprisingly, the room looked pretty normal until the refrigerator burped and spit the chewed up remains of a Tupperware bowl at me.
The patio doors were open, which I knew was a bad sign. When the godmothers took the fight outside, it was an indication that the house wasn't big enough or connected to the elements enough to hold all of the chaos they planned to draw down on each other.
Thankfully, I could see one of them had had the presence of mind to erect a barrier over the backyard. Explaining to my neighbors the presence of dragonflies as big as a dog was one of those experiences in life that I could happily live without. Being buzzed by one hit low on my list as well.
Looking at the vista before me with objectivity, I thought the product of their freaking out had turned the backyard into a wonderland. Evian and Soleil had dressed a small stand of fir trees with the evidence of their emotions. Frost coated needles mirrored the glittering blue fire reflection of a cloudless spring sky. One large maple tree marked Terra's less-than-gentle touch with an all-season showing that ran the gamut from spring swollen buds on the lower branches, through the palette of summer greens, fall reds and golds, to end with winter barren fingers.
A confused chickadee scolded me in human speech as I passed below her nest.
"You peck your mother with that beak?" I shouted back. The little bird had a potty mouth.
I passed a snail big enough to ride on, and a thicket of enchanted dill weed that towered over my head and made me crave pickles. Faerie dust floated through the air like wafts of cotton candy caught by a naughty wind. When a cloud of it floated toward me, I hit the ground and rolled out of the way. I've had enough run-ins with that stuff to learn it's best to steer clear.
The flutter of dust passed over me to land on a pink granite boulder that was part of Terra's decorative border. I heard a noise like an enormous zipper whizzing closed and the boulder developed an eye. I decided I'd better find another place to be in case it had a mouth and pointy teeth, too.
The garden must have multiplied in size by a factor of ten, given how long it took to navigate to the area in the farthest corner where the shouting was coming from.
"Harpy."
"Hag."
Each outburst was punctuated by banging sounds and flashes of light. Of all the faerie battles I've witnessed in my day, the ones since Vaeta's return had been the most flamboyant. According to mythology, all the elements were supposed to have an affinity for each other. Air feeds fire; fire brings light to nourish the earth and promote new growth; earth cradles water as it flows upon and within her breast. Water provides succor. But water and earth can stifle a fire, and air can blow the earth from bare rock, leaving no soft or fertile place to create new life. And when the sun turns cold, water freezes on the ground. Such is the duality of nature, and such is the nature of life with four elemental faeries. That which they are can be used to both create and destroy--but never so flamboyantly as when they turn their power against each other.
Fifteen yards and a maze of vines dense with thorns were all that separated me from them when all sound ceased. The sudden quiet scared me more than thunder.
Bleeding from half a dozen thorny encounters, I rounded the last corner hoping they weren't all lying dead on the ground. They weren't. The only things missing from their mannequin challenge were the person with the video camera and Black Beatles playing in the background.
"Put those down." Each grim-faced faerie held some sort of weapon trained on one of her sisters. Triggering one would set them all off in a chain reaction of epic proportions.
"Please. Put the weapons away. Clean up your mess and then come inside." I said softly. "There's something I need to say."
***
Sanctuary. That was what I needed. Sanctuary and wine. And my best friend. I revved Pinky's engine and sped to the office, pressing the button for Flix several more times than necessary until he shimmered into view before my eyes.
Before he even had a chance to ask, I let every detail of the story unfold. "You should have seen the backyard. I had no idea they would think I didn't need them anymore. And how am I supposed to keep up with fae mood swings? One minute they're fighting to beat the band, and the next they're hopped up Twinkleberry wine and enjoying a dip in a magical hot tub, laughing and giggling like teenagers. I can't even imagine what the first several hundred years of their lives were like if this is how they act around one another now. Poor Vaeta, getting dragged into this argument when she's been MIA for a century and probably doesn't care if I'm around or not. You'd think they'd just be happy to have her back, not that you'd have known they missed her in the first place. It's strange, the way they just pretended like she didn't exist." Plied with wine, I babbled and ranted until I noticed Flix hadn't said a word.
He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow in my direction and said quietly. "I think what's strange is that you've lived with three faeries for 25 years and don't seem to know a thing about them." He paused, allowing me to gape at him for a moment.
"Faeries--at least, full-blood faeries--don't age the same way humans do."
"Well, duh, I'm not an idiot. All four of them look like supermodels, and they haven't aged a day since I can remember." I shot back, feeling myself start to get defensive.
"It's not just about how they look. The fae aren't human, and can't be expected to respond to situations in the same way a person would. There's a reason humans are the way they are--they know they're going to die someday, and it affects all of their actions. Think about it: what separates humans from animals is the concept of morality. It's all instinct for an animal. The goal is simple: stay alive. In nature, killing another animal is not considered cruel, and there's no such thing as remorse. But when humans kill, they know they're cutting off an already too-short life; they know exactly what they're taking away from that person and everyone who cares about him. Hence, the moral code. Keeps people from giving in to the animal side of themselves."
I waved a finger in circles, urging him to continue.
"Now a faerie--or any other near-immortal being who may live for thousands of years--is not going to have the same outlook. Death is an even sadder thing because several lifetimes have been lost all at once. I'd bet you'd agree that your godmothers have a near-perfect memory. Imagine losing someone and not being able to forget hundreds of years worth of moments you'd shared; even worse, what if you knew they were alive, but lost to you, and you thought they had turned away on purpose, and chosen to remain gone. It's one thing to have someone taken, and quite another for someone to leave. All that pain, and now guilt over whether they should have tried rescuing her sooner; all the negative thoughts, the times they cursed her for leaving. And now, when they finally feel like all the pieces of the puzzle are at least on the table, you've Awakened and their lives are up in the air again. Sure, they've got countless more lifetimes ahead of them, but so do you, presumably. They've probably worried over you getting your powers since they took you in. It's a double-edged sword. You leave, or don't need them anymore, and they're going to spend the next couple hundred years mourning that loss too."
I mulled over that for a moment and decided to file it away for further contemplation. "Thanks for peeing in my already soggy Cheerios, Flix. I did apologize for overreacting and you're right, it turned out they've been worried all along about what would happen if I never got my powers--and what would happen if I did. If the Balefire had passed on to someone else, there would have been no need for them to stay on and protect me from anything. Either way, my 25th birthday was a point of contention, and instead of talking to me they've been taking it out on each other. And the house, for that matter."
"So tell me how it feels to be Awakened. Is it everything you hoped for?" I detected a carefully veiled hint of sarcasm and maybe even a touch of jealousy in Flix's tone. Anyone who didn't know him as well as I did might have missed the faint flavor of
sour grapes. Given his insight into faerie godmother thinking, it made sense he might be entertaining similar emotions and that was why he recognized them so readily.
"It feels like asking for a pony for your birthday and getting an Arabian with an attitude problem. I can't even light a candle without it turning into a catastrophe, but the Balefire is burning brighter than ever and that's what counts the most right now."
It didn't seem like my life would be taking a turn for the simple anytime soon. Oh, joy.
Chapter Fourteen
This time I reached into the Balefire with trepidation; yeah, it didn't burn me before, but the way things had been going since my big Awakening had me second-guessing myself all over again. I watched the flame dance across my hand and noticed that it wasn't invincibility that allowed me to touch but not be touched; it was more like a layer of magical plastic wrap, and I wondered if it was exclusive to the Balefire.
The lever creaked, and the fireplace spun around just like the last time, and I found Salem in his human form, curled into a smaller ball than I would have thought possible for such a large man, fast asleep on the sofa.
"Ahem." I cleared my throat until he roused, reached his arms and legs wide in a lazy stretch, and finally perched himself on the edge of the seat, looking at me expectantly. "Is this all you're going to do? Lay around and sleep? That doesn't seem any different from what you did before."
"Wow, you're cheerful. What happened?" He yawned lazily.
"I just didn't expect to feel this out of control after I got my powers; I thought I'd finally be in control, and that's not how it's going at all." I wailed.
"You've been given all at once what most witches spend years developing, including all of the emotions that go along with it. Now that the Balefire is safe, you can focus your attention on learning the basics."
"Like lighting candles? Is there anything less volatile I could try? Maybe conjuring up some fluffy cotton balls. Anything that won't blow up would be nice."
A Match Made in Spell (Fate Weaver Book 1) Page 10