need to talk to Stevie. No matter how hard it is, no matter how long I have to wait.
I’ve been waiting years to get this out.
A few more minutes or hours or even days won’t kill me.
Just when I start to think I’m wrong about that, I finally get my big break. Gazing out the back window, I spot her outside, no other people or technology in sight. She’s on her knees in the yard, fingers raking through the dirt like she’s searching for some long-buried treasure.
It’s nearly dinner time now, the sun hanging low in the sky, and I leave the crew inside, half of them sorting through the wine stash, the rest helping Isla with some spicy Caribbean dish she’s cooking up.
Outside, Stevie’s so focused on her task, she doesn’t hear my approach.
So I stand there like an asswipe and watch her for a little while, wondering if I should lead with the apology or a joke or a question or the wise words of another man from another time, because surely I don’t have the smarts or the strength to manage this on my own.
“You’re welcome to stand there all night,” she says suddenly, “but I’m afraid this is about as exciting as it’s gonna get.”
“How did you know I—right. Never mind.” Of course she knows. She always senses us, always knows when we’re in her sphere. When we’re happy, when we’re in pain, when we want nothing more than to smother her with kisses. It’s one of the things I love about her, much as it makes me feel raw and exposed.
“So… How’s Ani?” I ask. “I heard you in with him earlier. Aerosmith, I believe?”
“Greatest hits.” She lets out a soft laugh, still digging in the dirt. “The singing… That’s kind of our thing, you know? I figured it might remind him of home.”
“I’m sure it does.”
I wait for her to turn around, but she doesn’t. Just keeps pushing the dirt back and forth with her fingers, back and forth, back and forth.
“Looking for something?” I ask.
“We might be here at the house for a while, so I figured I should make it more homey. I’m thinking of planting a garden. Just some herbs, or… I don’t know. Things I can use in my tea. Honestly, I just kind of felt like digging. But it turns out it’s not so easy without tools.”
“That all depends on who you ask.” I send a pulse of magick her way, and the ground before her splits into wider tracks, the tiny stones and debris hovering in mid-air for just a moment before I let it fall again. “I can teach you, if you’d like.”
At this, she finally turns to look at me over her shoulder. The sight of those big blue eyes kicks me right in the chest, and I have to fight not to run to her and fall at her feet, right there in the dirt.
“If you want to,” she says. Her voice is weary, her eyes uncertain, but I do want to. More than anything.
Nodding, I gesture for her to get to her feet, then move closer to her, careful not to overwhelm her. As much as I want to pull her close, I can’t blame her for being a little skittish. The last couple of times she saw me, I was acting like a raving lunatic, looking right past her like she didn’t even exist.
“What do I do now?” she asks, holding her hands out over the dirt, as if it’s ready to jump at her command.
“Earth magick is one of the easiest to tap into. The key is staying grounded.” Standing behind her, I guide her feet apart, positioning them about shoulder-width. “You can do this while you’re sitting too, but that’s usually during a ritual or meditation. A lot of times you’ll want to call on earth magick in the moment—say, during a fight or skirmish, or some other on-the-fly situation. That’s why I like to teach it standing up.”
“Makes sense,” she says. “But how is this different from Kirin’s air magick? He can move rocks too.”
“Air magick is less predictable in this kind of situation because you’re relying on the currents of air to act upon the rocks. You don’t have as much control. But with earth magick…” I lift her hands a little higher and send out a pulse of magick, and the dirt rises with it, hovering before us in a delicate dance. “See? You’re calling on the objects