Yeah, we’d passed hippie-esque.
Wren laughed, almost holding her sides. “No, no. You’ll like it, promise.”
“We’ll see,” I said doubtfully.
“What’s something you'd like to be able to do with magic?” Wren asked.
“Anything.”
Wren pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Too generic?” I asked, not at all apologetic.
“Not useful for this lesson,” she said, amusement tightening her lips. “Next time.”
“I'll hold you to that,” I said, and I would. But then I actually had to think about the question. “I don’t know,” I admitted. It was hard to come up with something when I wasn’t really familiar with the scope of what I could do. “Find my keys when I lose them?”
Shock froze Wren’s face for a brief moment, before she was trying to hide near-silent laughter. I had a feeling that it wasn't a request she got often.
“I can't be the only one who’s ever misplaced them,” I said pointedly.
“But you are one of the first to admit it,” Wren chuckled.
“What about telling if somebody's telling the truth?” I figured that may be classed as difficult magic, but I didn't think it hurt to ask.
Curiosity switched on like a lightbulb. “Were you a detective before coming here?”
“Nope,” I said. “Or if I was, I wasn't aware of it.”
Wren rolled her eyes. “Being a witch here doesn’t work like that.”
“I’m still learning,” I pointed out. Another chuckle, and then she was shaking her head, but it was amusement, not exasperation.
“Why?” I was curious, because she seemed to have come from a particular train of thought with the question.
“Everyone's magic has a direction,” she said. “I was wondering which one yours was.”
“No idea,” I said frankly. “Were you thinking investigations, maybe?”
“You’re very focused on solving the case.”
“If I don't, who will?” I said. “Kerrity seems determined to prove me guilty.”
Something sad crossed Wren's face, then it cleared. “But there’s a difference between proving yourself innocent and solving the crime.”
I pursed my lips, not really sure how to explain it. Not that there wasn’t a difference, but it didn’t feel important to me.
Wren watched me for a moment longer before she picked up some papers and tapped them against the table with an authoritative flare. “Right,” she said, laying the papers back down and looking at them.
“Right?” My curiosity was itching under my skin. I wanted to know what she was talking about.
“I'm going to teach you about the principles of creating a spell,” Wren said. She glanced at the door, as if somebody would walk in at any moment. “It's not –”
“Included in the official curriculum?” I said, starting to put the pieces together.
Her smile was chagrined. “No,” she said. “It's not on the official syllabus.”
“I won't say anything,” I promised.
She looked almost like she thought that was funny, that I thought I would have a choice. It sent a chill down my spine like ice-cold water. I had asked about truth spells. It sounded like that really was a thing, and even worse, it could make you tell the truth against your will.
What kind of magic did this place have? Who would come up with a spell like that?
“The most important thing in performing magic is your intention.” She shuffled through the papers in front of her as if looking for a specific one. She pulled out a master list of the runes, all the ones I was supposed to learn. I was learning to identify them, but I still couldn’t write them from memory. “You have to keep your mind clear, because if you get distracted, it will muddy the intention of your spell.”
“Okay,” I said. For somebody my age, she came across as so wise when she was teaching. Maybe I'd catch up eventually.
“Our magic works on the principle of equivalent exchange.” Wren reached into her purse, pulling out a handful of tangled yarn.
I kept my face generic and curious, but my brain was one huge question mark. “Equivalent exchange?”
“When something is asked for, you must give something in return.”
“Is that some magical chemistry principal?” I asked. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.
“Physics.” She tugged on one of the strings of yarn, as if making sure the knot wouldn’t fall apart. “It’s a translation of one of the laws of Physics. We’re not the first to have used it.”
I could feel a tingling on my skin, something I was starting to associate with magic. But it wasn’t just magic. My curiosity, my interest, was growing. I wanted to know what we were doing and why.
“We’re going to start with something simple,” she said. “Transmutation.”
I wasn't entirely sure how it counted as simple, but whatever she wanted to teach me seemed serious, so I kept my mouth shut. If it was going to help me in the investigation—and the way she was talking, it sounded like it might—I didn't want to ruin the opportunity.
“Let's take this wool.” Wren spread it out in front of us, as much as she could with the way it was knotted together. It was snarled, like it had been balled together like barbed wire. It was a small handful of multiple colors, dark grays, reds, and some shades of black. “What do you see here?”
“Wool,” I said carefully. “Multiple colors. Tangles.” I wasn’t sure what she wanted from me.
“Close,” Wren said, but she sounded approving. “What you see here are some disparate pieces, opportunities.”
Okay, we were back to being hippies.
“Are you listening?”
“Yep,” I said. And I even was, mostly.
“We have these separate pieces of yarn, all originally on their own but now tangled together. It’s not really something we can use in its current incarnation. What kind of thing would we want to do to fix it?” she asked.
My brow creased. “Is that a trick question?” My heart was starting to race a little, my nerves acting up. This was Important, my magical education. If I got this wrong, what would it mean going forward?
Wren rolled her eyes, but her face was fond, not exasperated. “You’re nervous.”
“I'd be more surprised if I wasn't,” I said pointedly.
“I agree,” she said. “But what I'm teaching is crucial.” The seriousness was back in her face. “You’d do well to pay attention.”
I nodded, some of the joking leaving. It wasn’t going to be gone forever, because I just couldn't stay that serious. But.
“If we start with these runes –” Her fingers went to the runes for completion, for rebirth, renewal. Most I had memorized in an earlier session. “We can use the same objects, and something new.” She was drawing on the table now, some symbols I recognized. She started with a square and dotted something in each corner. Then she drew a circle and laid the yarn in the middle. It was a lot more complicated than I'd expected, and that tied my stomach in nerves. What if I never got the hang of it? What if Belle decided I wasn't worth it?
“Do you have to say something?” I looked at the set of symbols with a whole bucket of apprehension.
“No,” Wren said absently. “You just need to touch it.”
“Me?” I squeaked.
She nodded. “Focus your will.”
“On what?” I looked at the chosen runes as if they would bite me.
Wren chuckled. “In this case, on magic. The runes have given enough direction that the spell will work itself, it just needs the will of the human behind it.”
“This is so cheesy,” I muttered.
“It really is,” she said, not at all bothered. “But it works.”
I glanced at the circle square, the marks there. It took me a bit, but I could name each of the runes. And yes, I was more than aware I was using it as a procrastination technique.
“Lou,” Wren said, steely patient.
She was giving me some time, but she wasn’t letting me off the hook.
Why was I nervous? Well, there were a lot of reasons I was nervous. But this was it. This was realizing that of all things, if this worked, there was no way to deny who I was. Deny the mystery that lay behind who I was, why I was magic, why my mother hadn’t told me.
Yeah, I was hella nervous. And I had a reason to be.
I reached out and touched my finger against one of the corners of the square, and felt a spark flicker, like I'd been shocked. Nothing happened.
“Deep breath,” Wren encouraged.
I shook what felt like cobwebs out of my brain, settled my thoughts. I wasn't going to do this halfheartedly. If I was going to do a thing, I needed to give it my all.
I took a deep breath, and then pushed my fingers against the corner of the square again, focusing. I didn't know what I wanted it to do, but it was going to do something, or so help me, I would make it. Or something.
There was a flash of light, and then in the middle of the circle sat a new skein of wool, wrapped by a few extra pieces around the middle. It didn’t have a singular color, instead it looked like a blend of each of the colors. If I had to guess, I would have thought it was a variation on all the strands put together, sewn to each other.
I blew on my fingertips like they had been burnt, since they were stinging. “Was that supposed to happen?”
Wren looked pleased. “Yes. You’re better than I expected.”
“I'm going to assume that's a compliment,” I said dryly.
“It is,” she said. She studied me further, something complex pulling her in multiple directions. I wanted to ask, but not pry. Eventually I would. Eventually there would be an opening and I would take it.
“Based on these principles, what do you want to learn? Do you have any questions in particular?”
It felt like she was asking me something underneath it all, something I couldn’t put a name to yet. “Can we only work on physical objects?” I asked.
She shook her head. “The metaphorical ones tend to be a higher skill level,” she said. “But they are possible.”
“Do we have to use the runes?” I asked.
Wren glanced out the door. “Some people don't need to,” she said. “But it's fairly rare.”
“Don’t need to?” Curiosity got the better of me for the umpteenth time that day. Someday, curiosity really was going to kill the cat.
“Most people can't function without runes that are explicitly written,” Wren explained. “We don’t really know why.”
“What about telling intentions?” I asked, thinking about the investigation and everything I needed to do.
Wren looked pleased. “Now, what type of symbols do you think would be included in that?”
Chapter Twenty-One
By the time we finished the lesson, I was covered in sweat. I wasn’t sure I could tell if someone was telling the truth, but I had a feeling at least some of this would help me in my investigation. I also had a feeling that was the point of today's lesson.
“If you have any questions,” Wren said, “be careful who you talk to.”
I looked at her sharply. “Be careful?”
“You can always talk to me,” she said with a smile. “Always.”
I nodded. I knew that, to some extent. But I had a feeling she was warning me off talking to other people, although I wasn't entirely sure why. Was somebody dangerous? Or would they simply not approve of what she had taught me?
Then again, the last time I had tried to talk to someone, she had shown up dead. So maybe Wren had a point.
“You done?” Belle’s voice rang out, and for all that she was terrifying, her voice sounded almost comforting. Drawing the prey in, before the attack.
“She’s ready for her evaluation,” Wren said, glancing at me. She drew herself up and unlocked the door, opening it to reveal Belle on the other side. I had gotten sidetracked some time after the third time Wren had asked me to create a spell. Although, now that I said that, I didn't know if spell was the right word. I didn't even know if there really was a word for those kinds of things.
Belle came inside and, after a second, took a seat. She gave Wren an openly irritated look, as if she had expected her to leave, but Wren hadn’t moved. Instead Wren’s gaze stayed on me, steady.
“Don’t screw up,” Mocha offered.
I shot her a glare, my nerves already on overdrive. She scratched her ear, unconcerned. “Thanks,” I told her.
“I don’t think you will,” Mocha said cryptically.
“Will what?” Fail? Succeed? “Clarification, please.”
Mocha switched to scratching her other ear, and apparently decided not to answer.
Belle cleared her throat. Shoot. I turned my attention back to her, as if I had been paying attention the whole time. “Demonstrate a simple transformation,” she said, sounding bored.
I glanced at Wren, because I didn't recognize the word. Had that been one of the things she’d taught me?
“Like the yarn,” she whispered.
Oh. “Do you have something I can fix?” I asked Belle, trying to sound as polite as I could.
That got me a dark look, although I wasn't really sure why. If you asked me, it was an expected question.
“I'm certain you can find something,” she said.
I bit back the first thing I wanted to say, and then the second. If I had my choice, I would have fixed her attitude. But, as usual, I had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate such a thoughtful suggestion. People in power rarely did.
Ignoring Belle’s long fingernails tapping against the table, I searched the small room we were in. There was a pen on the far side of the table, half broken, with the spring components missing. It wasn't much, but it was something I could use to do what she asked me.
The room was eerily quiet as I stood, picking up the pen components and putting them on my part of the table. I stopped, searching for something that could replace the spring bits. Equivalent exchange, an eye for an eye. If I wanted to replace the spring components, I needed to offer something in return.
I picked up a couple paperclips and a pushpin, having no idea if it would work. It was my best guess. Worst case, I did something stupid. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
I glanced at Mocha, who was watching me.
“Your familiar is to stay silent.” Belle’s voice cracked like a whip. “They’re not allowed to help you.”
“She’s not,” I said, settling back down at the table.
Belle gave me a stern look, like she didn’t trust me. I doubted she did.
“Now that you have an object, what’s next?” Belle asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Draw the runes,” I said obediently.
“And how would you draw the circle?” she asked. Her voice was cool and collected, but I could tell she wasn't pleased. With what, I didn't know. But that wasn't my problem.
“I'll start with the square,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt. “It gives you more points, and integration of the circle in the middle allows you to distribute power more evenly.” I was kind of parroting what Wren had said, but it seemed to be the right thing, because Belle's lips tightened.
Did she not like me? Was she looking for a reason to fail me? Then again, I already had one person in the town that didn't want me existing. Would a second really have been that surprising? Mentally I shook my head. That was yet another thing on the list of things that weren’t my problem, at least not at the moment.
“Okay,” Belle said, her voice steady. “What symbols would you draw? Why?”
I ticked through the list in my head, nodding to myself as I solidified my answer in my head. “Resurrection,” I said, writing the little symbol of life with a blunt pencil. It reminded me of hieroglyphics, little pictures that represented words or ideas.
“Why?” she asked, her voice a bit acidic.
“Because the pen’s broken beyond use,” I said, pointing to the
broken parts. “This way, the focus is on returning use to the item, rather than just restoration of the item itself.”
I saw a Wren cross and uncross her leg, and from the way Belle gritted her teeth, it looked like I’d scored a point.
“The others?” she asked. Her brows were creased now, her knuckles white from how hard they were clenched. She was angry about something, and I didn’t know – or care – what it was.
I glanced at the circle and square. At least four symbols, with the possibility for more. “Togetherness, the pen, and –” I paused, trying to think of a suitable rune. Wren hadn't always insisted on four symbols, not one for every corner. Sometimes she left a wildcard, although she hadn’t really explained why.
“You must have a symbol for each corner,” Belle said sharply, breaking into my thoughts.
“Okay.” I wasn’t going to say anything else in return, at least not now, although I was definitely going to ask Wren about it when the whole thing was over. “Illness,” I said finally.
“Why?” She gave me an irritated look, like she thought I was madder than a hatter. Given that I was learning magic in a town I'd only been in for X TIME, I probably fit the crazy criteria.
“Because something is stopping it from completing the job it was manufactured to do.” I was completely pulling it out of nowhere, but it sounded – and felt – right.
“Fine.” She gave me a dark look. I wanted to ask her what her problem was, but I had a feeling that would just make things worse. “What spell?”
I glanced at Wren, startled. “No spell,” I said. “Just focusing my intention.”
Belle rolled her eyes. “Did you teach her this?” she said, looking at Wren.
“I saw the potential, so I made the executive decision.” Wren sounded cool, entirely unruffled by the glare I could feel directed her way. I drew comfort from how unconcerned she was, that Wren could stand up to Belle no matter how angry she seemed.
“It’s not your responsibility to establish that,” Belle said sharply. Her voice was closer to a snarl. Exactly how many people in this town hated my family? And why?
“And yet it works,” she said calmly. “She can demonstrate.”
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