Origin (Scales N' Spells #1) - A.J. Sherwood Page 0,36
about six, I was at my great-grandmother’s house. It was the last summer before she died. I remember sitting in the kitchen with her, and she was mixing something at the table. In a bowl, the bowl she used for kimchi, though it didn’t smell like it. I asked what she was doing. She winked and said she was making something for her old bones. And she kept putting in strange things—drops from stoppered glass bottles lined up on the table. One of them glowed, softly, like the light from a firefly. There were pristine snowflakes in the other, despite the fact it was high June. The last was so bright I couldn’t look at it directly and it felt warm, like I was standing in a sunny spot. She drank it after she mixed it.”
Lisette’s expression lit up. “That was a working. She was potion-making, and it sounds like something for arthritis.”
“Oh. Yeah, her knees were bad by that point. Her hands, too.”
“So magic was practiced in your house?” Lisette asked intently, leaning forward.
“No, not at all,” Cameron denied with a shake of the head. “It was rare to see anything like that from my great-grandmother. She was nervous about doing that kind of thing in front of people, rarely let even anyone in the family see it. She was a touch out of it at the end of her life. Eomma…er...my mother said she had Alzheimer’s. I think she wasn’t as cautious that day. But my grandmother was never taught anything by her mother. My parents don’t really believe we have magic at all.”
Lisette winced. “Knowledge is so quickly lost in a family. It only takes three generations.”
“That’s what Alric said. It certainly did in mine.” Cameron set the tray further aside, freeing up his hands and lap. It bought him a second to think. Lisette’s explanation made sense of things, sure, but he didn’t really feel it yet. Feel connected to what she was saying. Didn’t magic require at least some belief? Cassie, yes, he could see his sister working magic left, right, and center. Halmeoni would be right there with her. But him?
Frankly, if proving he was a mage depended on him working a spell, they were all screwed. He had no faith he could do it.
“Lisette, is there some way you can prove if I’m a mage or not? I know the dragons smell magic on me, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I can work magic, right?”
“Fortunately, I anticipated you’d ask this question. Baldewin and Alric both said that you’re struggling with this.” She pulled her vest around and dipped her hand into a pocket. “I have here a device we use to detect magic in people. We use it for children so that we can readily discover the ones who need to be taught. It’s incredibly easy to use and one hundred percent accurate.”
“A magic litmus test?”
“That’s a good way to think of it. You’re either one or the other, young man. Magic or not. There’s no in-between on this.” She pulled out a small, triangular-shaped stone wrapped in three different types of wire. It hung from her hand on a leather thong. It looked like a cross between a steampunk fashion accessory and something a hippie would wear, as the wire didn’t just cross but had curves and designs in it much like a schematic would. And it glowed softly, a light all of its own.
“So how do I use it?” Cameron stared at it intently. He’d seen this very thing before. It escaped his immediate memory of where, though. Recently. Here, in Germany. Was he at the festival…? No, that didn’t sound quite right.
“Just put it into your hand.”
He reached for it, and she dropped it into his open palm. It barely touched skin before it flared a bright green, as bright as any LED flashlight. Cameron almost dropped it in surprise. “Whoa!”
“Well now. I think that’s a pretty definitive answer.” Lisette had the gall to look smug and not at all surprised.
Cameron stared at the stone in his hand, and he had to swallow twice before he could find words. Wha…no, seriously? The person who didn’t believe magic was a real thing anymore, who would have sworn three days ago it was a thing of the past, was a mage? “Seriously?!”
Lisette threw her head back and laughed, the sound a little scratchy but warm. “Ah, I should have taken a picture of your face. Such a Kodak moment!”