So I do, again and again, and still nothing happens.
I can feel the light flickering inside me, feel it starting to dissipate, and I’m so afraid that it’ll go away that my hands start to tremble and my chest starts to ache.
Macy must see my distress, because she says, “It’s okay. We can try again later.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Hudson tells me, moving to stand right behind me now, both our gazes focused on the candle, so close that I can feel his breath against my ear. “You can do this.”
“I can’t do this. It’s leaving. I can feel it—”
“So draw it back,” he orders. “Don’t send it out like Macy told you to. Pull it back, concentrate it into one ball of energy, of power, and then let it go.”
“But Macy said—”
“Fuck what Macy said. Everyone wields their power differently. I can feel it in you. It’s right there, ready to be used. So use it.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.”
“It’s okay,” Jaxon tells me. “We’ll practice a little bit each day until you get it.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Hudson orders. “You’ve got this.”
“I don’t have it. I don’t.”
Hudson leans forward, braces his arm under mine, and grabs onto my hand. “Focus,” he tells me. “Send every ounce of the magic you feel inside you right here, to where I’m holding you.” He squeezes my hand for emphasis. “Pull it back from wherever else you sent it and put it all right there.”
I take a deep breath and let it out shakily. Breathe in a second time and let it out. The third time I breathe in, I hold it for long seconds as I try to do what he asks. The light has made a trail through me, so I grab on to one end of it and start to pull, rolling it back, back, back until it’s right there in my chest, my shoulder, my arm. Until finally, I can feel it in the palm of my hand.
“Feel it?” Hudson asks.
I nod, because I do. It’s so strong, it’s like it’s going to burn a hole right through me.
“You’ve got it now,” he tells me.
“I do. I’ve got it,” I whisper.
“I know. Now, open your fist.” He lets go of my hand slowly, gently unweaving our fingers even as he keeps his arm directly under mine.
“Aim,” he says, his voice and his body a solid presence behind me. Holding my feet to the flame and my palm to the power. Not letting me back up so much as an inch.
And then he’s right there—chin near my shoulder, mouth pressed to my ear—as he whispers, “Now let it go.”
So I do. And then let out a little scream as every single candle on Jaxon’s bookcase bursts into flame at exactly the same moment. Oh my God. I did it. I really did it!
“Holy shit, New Girl!” Flint yelps. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know.” I turn to look at Hudson, and for a second, just a second, he’s right there, his face barely an inch from mine. Our eyes lock and power—pure, unadulterated power—sizzles between us. At least until he steps back, putting several feet of distance between us in an instant.
“How much power did you give her, Macy?” Jaxon asks, looking from the bookcase to my cousin and back again.
“That wasn’t me,” Macy answers. “I can barely do that now with all my power, let alone with the little bit I was siphoning off for Grace.”
“Then where did it come from?” Jaxon demands. “Power like that doesn’t just—”
He breaks off as it hits him, which is just about the same time it hits me. No wonder the power felt strangely familiar. It’s been there, lurking inside me, for nearly four months.
“Hudson.” Jaxon says his brother’s name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, nose up and mouth curled into a small sneer while I simply whisper it.
But when I whirl around to confront him, determined to find out what and how and why he did what he did, he’s gone. And not “hiding in a corner, pouting” gone, either. He’s gone gone, and I have absolutely no idea what to do to bring him back.
53
Everybody Wants to
Rule the World
“I don’t know what happened,” I tell Jaxon for what feels like the thousandth time. “He helped me feel the power, helped me focus it, helped me use it, and then he just disappeared.”
“How can he disappear?” Jaxon answers, shoving a hand