Impassion

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Impassion Page 11

by B. C. Burgess

After taking in the details, Layla closed the door and headed for the turret room, climbing a narrow flight of spiral stairs to the highest point in the house. As she rounded the last turn and entered the circular chamber, rainbows dazzled her eyes, flashing through various gemstones that hung from the domed ceiling by fine silver thread.

  The bright, airy room was much bigger than she thought it would be, and far more beautiful than she imagined. Two tall windows faced the east and west, and the ceiling had a skylight, illuminating the room for as long as the sun kissed the sky. Composed of pale planks of weathered wood, the floor had a white area rug spread beneath a curved white sofa and a round driftwood table, which held a vase of blue and green roses. Near the western window sat an easel and painting supplies, while the eastern window poured light on an acoustic guitar and a wooden stool.

  Layla’s eyes had adjusted to the light, so she set her phone and coffee aside and moved to the eastern window, getting her first sunlit view of the coven’s lawn. The green grass and pristine houses sparkled with dew, and the gardens stretched for the rising sun.

  “Wow,” she breathed, taking a moment to memorize the magical landscape.

  Once she could close her eyes and still see the view, she moved to the western window, where she found another breathtaking vista—clusters of trees so tall and packed together so tightly, she couldn’t see ten feet into them or an inch of sky above them. Peaceful yet powerful, the vast stretch of nature gave her a tingly feeling in her tummy.

  She walked to the guitar and pulled it from its carved, wooden stand. She loved the acoustic guitar as much as she loved the piano. Had she not been swamped with extracurricular activities growing up, she would have learned to play. As she ran a hand down the guitar’s polished neck, she wondered if it had belonged to her mom or her dad. Neither of them had played in the memories, but both had been musically inclined.

  Taking a seat on the stool, she propped the guitar on her lap, deciding by its size that it must have been her dad’s. She strummed, pressed a few strings then strummed again. Maybe she’d learn to play after all. What else did she have to do?

  “Magic,” she exclaimed, popping her head up. That’s what she’d do.

  Chapter 10

  VEINS PULSING WITH ADRENALINE, LAYLA found the house phone in the living room then dialed the number boldly written across a nearby notepad.

  Half a ring later, Morrigan answered. “Hello?”

  Layla beamed, already familiar with her grandma’s dulcet voice. “Hi.”

  “Layla, sweetie. How are you this morning?”

  “Good. What are you doing?”

  “Daleen and I are having coffee, waiting to hear from you.”

  “Would you like to come over?”

  “We would love to come over. Do you need us to bring anything?”

  “Um... I haven’t had breakfast, and I don’t know what’s here.”

  “Not much. I wanted your input before stocking the fridge. What would you like for breakfast?”

  “An apple and toast is fine.”

  “Apple and toast,” Morrigan repeated. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “Yes, actually. The bag I brought with me is running low on clothes.”

  “Do the clothes in the closet not fit?”

  “Well, I haven’t tried anything on yet, but that’s not really the problem.”

  “Tell me the problem, sweetie, and I’ll fix it.”

  “Well...” Layla mumbled, cheeks growing warm. “I couldn’t find any underclothes.”

  “Oh,” Morrigan replied, quietly laughing. “I’m sorry. I should have considered that.”

  “That’s okay. I have some in my car, but I don’t know how to get to them.”

  “Steer clear of the bedroom. I’ll send your things over before heading that way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Layla hung up and rushed to the bedroom closet, grabbing one of the few outfits that included pants instead of a skirt. The top was long-sleeved and embroidered with emerald green roses, and the bottoms were skinny, white slacks.

  Since her stuff would be appearing in the bedroom soon, she decided to use the guest bathroom to shower and dress. Being crushed by her luggage would make for a funny anecdote, but it wasn’t worth the humiliation.

  Even though she washed and rinsed quickly, the doorbell rang as she was getting dressed, so she ran down the hall while yanking the shirt over her head. When she opened the door, her grandmothers’ delighted auras filled the entryway.

  “That shirt looks lovely on you,” Morrigan praised, pulling her into a hug. “I’m glad it fits. Making your wardrobe was a guessing game.”

  Layla’s eyebrows shot up. “You made those clothes?”

  “Sure,” Morrigan confirmed, stepping aside for Daleen, who anxiously pulled Layla into a hug.

  “Good morning, my darling,” she sighed. “It’s wonderful to see your smile.”

  “You, too,” Layla returned, closing the door. “Looks like rain.”

  Morrigan laughed. “It always looks like rain around here, even if it’s dry.”

  “I like the rain,” Layla noted, joining them in the living room.

  “Then you’ve come to the right place,” Morrigan assured.

  Layla smiled as she motioned toward the kitchen. “I’d offer you coffee, but I don’t have any made. Quin spoiled me with a cup of Cinnia’s this morning.”

  “How sweet of him,” Morrigan replied, glancing down the hall. “Did you get your luggage?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been back in there. Do you want coffee? I can make some.”

  “Only if you want some,” Daleen answered. “We’re all coffeed out at the moment.”

  “Coffeed out?” Layla countered. “Is there such a thing?”

  Daleen laughed and took Layla’s hand. “I take it you really like coffee?”

  “I’m an addict. It’s pretty bad.”

  Morrigan smiled as she headed for the kitchen. “Then I’ll make you some while you eat breakfast.”

  “Okay,” Layla agreed, pulling Daleen along.

  While Morrigan made coffee, Daleen summoned a sliced and peeled apple and a piece of buttered toast.

  “Thank you,” Layla murmured, digging in.

  A moment of silence passed while she ate her toast. Then Morrigan spoke as she sat down with a fresh cup of coffee. “What would you like to do today?”

  “I was hoping you’d help me practice magic,” Layla answered.

  “That sounds fun,” Daleen approved. “You have so much to learn. It will be wonderful watching you discover your abilities.”

  “Yes,” Morrigan agreed. “I’m very excited about it. Is there something in particular you’d like to start with?”

  “The important stuff,” Layla answered. “I need to figure out flying, and I need to learn the concealment spell. Oh, and I’d love to get better at elemental magic. I want to know which one’s my best one.”

  Daleen smiled as she played with a long curl. “We’ll help with whatever you need, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You have plenty of time to learn.”

  “I know,” Layla mumbled, taking another bite, “but it’s not like I have a job or anything. Might as well learn what I’m capable of. Plus, I’m really excited about it.”

  “We can tell,” Morrigan observed.

  “Is there a way to make flying safe?” Layla asked, grabbing her last slice of apple.

  “We’ll keep you safe,” Daleen assured.

  “Okay,” Layla agreed, confident in the claim. “Is there somewhere we can practice that won’t have people around? I don’t want to make a fool of myself around anyone but you two.”

  “Sure,” Morrigan answered, vanishing the bread crumbs from Layla’s plate. “We have a clearing we use for rituals and whatnot. Are you ready now?”

  Layla took several gulps of coffee then stood. “Yes. No…” She b
lushed as she glanced over her shoulder. “I need to go find my underwear.”

  “We’ll wait,” they replied, and Layla rushed from the kitchen.

  A pile of bags and suitcases sat outside her closet door, and she visually searched it, pinpointing the bag that held the bulk of her underclothes. It seemed to take forever to put on a pair of panties, and she was still fastening her pants when she returned to the kitchen.

  “Ready,” she announced.

  “Then let’s not delay,” Morrigan said, heading for a door in the south-west corner of the kitchen.

  Layla followed her outside, gasping as she stepped onto a large, wooden deck. Mouth hanging open, she flipped her gaze left and right, finding dozens of full flower boxes, and six comfy lounge chairs, which formed a half-circle around an empty fire pit. Beyond the fire pit, a miniature dock stretched over a sparkling pond big enough to swim in. Fed by a small, three-tiered waterfall, the bright body of water was surrounded by smooth slabs of granite and artistic beds of greenery.

  Layla moved to the edge of the dock and peered into the water’s depths, gasping at the colorful fish swimming beneath huge, floating lily pads. And as if it wasn’t already the most beautiful pond she’d ever seen, shiny blue and green gems coated the bottom, capturing the sun and casting prisms.

  Morrigan joined her on the dock and laid a hand on her shoulder. “What do you think?”

  “It’s perfect,” Layla whispered.

  Morrigan beamed and motioned toward the chairs. “Do you want to sit for a while?”

  “Tempting,” Layla answered, “but my heart’s set on magic.”

  She glanced at her bare feet then looked at her grandmothers’ feet, which were also bare. Must be a magician thing, she decided, sitting on a chair so she could toughen her soles and lightened her step—a spell Quin had taught her at his aunt Karena’s inn.

  “All set,” she said, getting to her armored feet.

  While traversing dark woods brimming with wild undergrowth, Layla listened to her grandmothers explain the theory of concealment, so she had a decent grasp on the idea by the time they stepped into a round clearing half the size of the coven’s lawn. Flawlessly manicured and completely empty, the glade was ideal for making a fool of one’s self.

  “Excellent,” Layla approved.

  The lesson proceeded better than she’d hoped, and after a few hours of testing her magic, she was bursting with post-power euphoria and confidence. It only took her three tries to thoroughly conceal her body. And following several stubborn attempts, she managed to somewhat lighten her aura—a task her grandmothers claimed was extremely difficult.

  After disappearing and reappearing a dozen times, Layla set her mind on flying, finding it fairly easy to do. But it took a while, because she obsessed over every detail and safety precaution, hovering from the ground inch by careful inch. By the time she reached the treetops, she’d grown comfortable with the weightless feeling, so she shot forward, flying ten easy circles around the clearing.

  “That was amazing,” she gushed, landing in front of her grandmothers. “I’ve never felt so... so free.”

  “You’re amazing,” Daleen countered. “No one would ever know you’re new to the gift.”

  “I can’t take all the credit,” Layla returned. “I’ve had excellent teachers.” She bounced and wiggled. She couldn’t hold still, so she turned and grabbed their hands. “Will you fly with me?”

  “Yes,” they agreed, so the three of them soared into the air.

  After a few laps, Layla let go of their hands and halted.

  “Is everything okay?” Morrigan asked, swiftly spinning around.

  “Everything’s great,” Layla answered. “I just want to try something. Will you guys catch me if I fall?”

  “Of course,” they replied.

  Layla grinned as she floated backward, giving herself plenty of room. Then she tucked into a whirlwind of somersaults and horizontal spins. It was like doing them under water, but much smoother and without the resistance of compressed liquid. It felt fantastic, and it didn’t even make her dizzy.

  “Wow,” she breathed, floating upright with perfect balance. “That was fun.”

  “And graceful,” Morrigan added.

  “Beautiful,” Daleen agreed. “We should have hummed a tune to go along with it.”

  “I don’t know how you guys get anything done,” Layla laughed, launching into a back flip. “This is too much fun.”

  Around one, after practicing the art of an emergency landing—the trick was the trajectory of flight at the point of impact combined with focused shock absorption—Layla flew with her grandmas to her house for sandwiches. She hadn’t practiced elemental magic, but she was satisfied with her improvement and figured she better stop while she was ahead. Plus, she didn’t want to use up all the fun in one day.

  Halfway through their meal, Layla steeled her nerve and brought up a scary subject. “I guess I need to meet the rest of the coven soon.”

  Morrigan and Daleen traded glances. Then Morrigan set her sandwich down and dusted crumbs from her fingers. “I’m glad you mentioned it, sweetie, because we need to talk about that.”

  “You’re upset,” Layla concluded. “I know I should have done it sooner, but I’m nervous. I didn’t mean to be rude or disrespectful...”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Daleen interrupted. “No one thinks that. Meeting that many people can be stressful, even under the best circumstances, so take as much time as you need. They’ll understand.”

  “Oh,” Layla mumbled. “I thought you might be upset about it.”

  “No,” Morrigan assured. “We would never rush you into something you’re uncomfortable with. Besides, you’re far too special a blessing to upset us.”

  “I’m not perfect,” Layla countered.

  “You’re perfect in our eyes,” Morrigan disagreed, “and that will never change, no matter what you do or don’t do.”

  “I hope I don’t disappoint,” Layla whispered, terrified she wouldn’t live up to the wonderful person everyone seemed to think she was.

  Morrigan turned in her chair and took Layla’s hand. “Listen, sweetie. I know you feel like you have to live up to certain expectations, but that’s not true. We’ll accept you for who you are, and if you make a mistake along the way, that’s okay. There’s nothing you can do or say that will make us regret your homecoming. Now stop being so hard on yourself. You’ve been magnificent every step you’ve taken to get to this point, and we couldn’t be more proud of the way you’re handling things.”

  Moisture blurred Layla’s vision as a lump clogged her throat. “Thank you. I think you’re perfect, too. I’ve never met so many kind and loving people, and I’m really grateful to be a part of it. You and Serafin as well,” she added, turning toward Daleen. “You guys have put your lives on hold for me. And I know it’s selfish , but I’m so glad you have, because I love that I’m getting to spend time with you.”

  “We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Daleen returned.

  A sad thought struck Layla, and her shoulders sagged. “When will you go home?”

  “Well, that’s something we need to talk about, and part of what Morrigan was going to say.”

  “Oh yeah,” Layla remembered, turning to Morrigan. “You were saying something about me meeting everyone.”

  “Yes,” Morrigan confirmed. “But remember, we understand you need time to adjust, so if this doesn’t sound like something you want to do, please tell me. We can easily work around tradition.”

  “Tradition?”

  “Yes. When welcoming a new member, the coven usually partakes in a feast, followed by a magical ceremony. But if you’re uncomfortable with any of it, we can go a different route or give it more time. Everyone will understand either way.”

  Layla took a bite then stared at a windowsill herb garden as she chewed. “Magical ceremony?”

  “Nothing challenging or scary,” Morrigan explained. “It’s a binding ceremony.
You see, you’re already connected to six of us, because we share blood with you. Nature laid the foundation of our relationships, and that connection can be felt the moment we meet, so we’re able to bypass the awkwardness and begin building our kinship.”

  Layla understood, because she’d felt it. Meeting her grandparents for the first time had been like rediscovering familiar and dearly missed treasures. Not once since finding herself in their arms had she considered them strangers.

  “The blood connection is a wonderful advantage,” Morrigan went on, “and by performing a binding ritual, we can imitate that bond… to a degree. We’re all family here, despite our differing bloodlines. Quinlan’s family and your grandpa’s family have ties dating back to the fifteen hundreds, and those living today are as close as ever. In fact, Quinlan’s great grandpa Catigern raised Caitrin and Cinnia after their parents were killed in an unfortunate explosion.”

  “What?” Layla blurted.

  “It was a tragic accident,” Morrigan quickly added, “one that had nothing to do with magic. At the risk of not giving the story proper respect, I’ll sum it up. Six members of your grandpa’s family, along with Catigern’s wife and brother, were delivering food to a soup kitchen when the boiler room exploded, killing everyone in the building. Anyway,” she sighed, “I didn’t tell you that to depress you. It happened fifty-three years ago. Our family still thrives and we’re closer than ever. So, when a new member comes along, we perform a ceremony that helps us bond with them. By taking part in the ritual, you’ll simply feel a deeper connection with everyone. Am I explaining it well enough?”

  “Yes, and it sounds wonderful—having a close connection with such a large family. But… well, what exactly does the ritual entail?”

  “Nothing strenuous, but you might find it overwhelming, because you’ll connect with everyone in the coven very quickly. After we perform a group ritual, which is just a lovely incantation called upon by the rest of us, we’ll perform individual rituals. This means the nineteen coven members not related to you by blood will need to make physical contact with you while someone else, most likely Caitrin, takes care of the spell work.”

 

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