music swirling with the tide. She was walking in a vortex. Her Power rose in response to spin around her, a vortex within a vortex, and the scene expanded. The stone walls grew to towering heights while the path shone ivory-bright, as wide as a highway.
She had so much magic her body couldn’t contain it. It poured out of her eyes and streamed down her arms. For once she didn’t try to dampen or contain it. Letting it flow felt so good, she almost sank to her knees.
She had used her left hand to throw Power at Austin and his car. Remembering, her palm tingled again. She shook out her fingers to release the tension, and magic like argent fire poured from her palm.
She lifted her hand and swirled it in the air. The magic responded by curling around her wrist. She shook it out again, and it unfurled with a snap like a whip.
This is mine, she thought. This beautiful, deadly thing is my Power.
Widdershins is my positive, my correct path. Everything aligns when I walk my correct path.
As she neared the circle, her magic grew higher, more intense. Her vortex of energy overrode the vortex of the labyrinth. Her magic swallowed the stones and gravel until they rose in a column around her, spinning in her vortex, spinning, spinning, spinning.
Letting her magical whip trail loose, she stepped into the center of the labyrinth and turned in a circle, keeping her left hand to the center, in the heart of her magic.
Then she looked up. The labyrinth stones spun above her head as high as she could see, whirling like mad constellations in the cloudless, cerulean sky.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sarah standing in the vegetable patch, holding her hat to her head. The edges of the brim flapped wildly. Several yards away, a copse of trees whipped back and forth. The vortex Molly had created was affecting everything in the vicinity.
A tree branch broke and flew through the air to smash into one of the downstairs windows. Sarah shouted something. Molly couldn’t make out what she said.
She called out, “What?”
Sarah shouted again and pointed to the ground between her feet. “You’ve got to ground yourself! Release your Power into the earth!”
“How?” she shouted. Her hair rose around her head in a nimbus, and strands blew across her face.
Sarah’s hat tumbled from her head as she held out both hands, palms down. She mimed pushing something invisible down.
Watching her, Molly copied her stance. Power flowed from her right hand too, but it wasn’t as concentrated as the deadly line of Power that poured from her left. As it dripped from her right hand, it fell harmlessly to the earth and disappeared, soaking into the turf.
The whip of light pouring from her left palm was less cooperative. It twisted and turned on itself and called to Molly to play with it. Lifting her hand, she flung it out. It snapped at the air like a crackle of lightning.
Thunder roared out of the cloudless sky like a sonic boom. It shook the ground, and nearby, a maple tree cracked and toppled over with a crash.
Oh shit.
Through the roar of the vortex, she gradually grew aware of Sarah’s chanting. It ran too low for her to hear the words, an entirely different Power from hers, deeper, much older, and more anchored to the earth.
Only when her feet landed on the ground did she realize she’d been levitating several feet in the air. The reconnection jarred her back to her senses. Giving the whirling stones overhead a leery look, she fell to her knees, planted her hands in the lush grass, and concentrated on pouring the magic into the ground.
She poured and poured. It gushed out of her in a seemingly endless flood until finally the flow eased to a trickle. As it stopped, the stones and gravel dropped randomly over the yard.
The wind died down. Molly and Sarah stared at each other from across the distance. Sarah’s eyes had rounded. Molly was still on her hands and knees.
“Sorry,” she called out. “Was it supposed to do that?”
Abruptly, Sarah clapped both hands over her mouth and bent at the waist. The sound of her guffaw echoed over the yard.
Chapter Nineteen
Molly and Josiah’s agreement didn’t last eighteen weeks.
Every evening at eight, his phone lit up with her message. Safe.
And he texted in reply, Safe.
His enjoyment of his days had narrowed down to that single word.