The Whimsy Witch Who Wasn't - Donna Augustine Page 0,28

simpler. Come over here.” He put a hand close to the fire and the flames disappeared, and then even the burning embers went out.

I got as close to the fireplace as I could. If things went wrong, I wanted to limit what I might burn, since this was currently my home.

“Imagine heat building in your hand, your fingertips, as if your hand was on fire. Then fling it toward the logs.”

Hand on fire. Boiling heat. Sweltering heat. I could feel it. I threw all that energy toward the logs. Ashes and dust flew up, blowing out and filling the room. My eyes burned and I coughed on ash. The only thing that happened to the logs was that they now sat in a clean fireplace.

I looked at Hawk. He had ash all over his shirt and pants, but not quite as bad as I did.

He shook his head. “I’m not sure how you can have this much magic and also be this bad. This is going to take longer than I imagined.”

He walked out of the room. I knew practice was over when he didn’t come back. This night had gone to shit, and now worse—was I supposed to clean this all up on my own?

10

I’d swept, dusted, dusted again. Then swept again. Belinda was making the factory look good. Luckily, Zab kept taking pity on me and needed me for things, which were often tea breaks in the back. But then more clients would come in, and Belinda, not one to overlook idle hands, would send me to clean the windows for the third time.

By the time Hawk showed up and was ready to torture me, I was already exhausted.

I sat slumped in front of the fireplace, face covered in ashes, realizing that even failing at magic could take a lot out of you.

“You’re. Not. Trying.” Hawk glared at me from the other side of the room like I wasn’t killing myself to light the logs on fire. As if I hadn’t already tried ten times since he’d called me back here.

“Yes. I. Am.” My jaw barely unlocked as I spoke. “Do you think I’m trashing this room for shits and giggles?” I waved a hand about the place that was indeed a mess and, I was fairly certain, I’d be cleaning up alone. “That this is fun for me?”

He shook his head. It seemed to be a trend with us. He’d tell me to try something. I’d fail. He’d shake his head and act like I was purposely frustrating him. Not that I wouldn’t at this point. If I could knock him upside his head, I’d do it. What did he expect? I was new at this, and clearly something was going wrong.

“This, what you’ve been doing, is not trying. If you were trying, we’d be getting somewhere. I ask you to move the book, you knock over the bookcase. I ask you to light the fire, and you do everything but.” Hawk stepped closer. “Let me ask you something, Tippi. Are you even here by accident, or was this a setup?”

Now he was going too far. Did he think I was some sort of spy? Here to read his books at night? I didn’t even know why I was here in the first place. A spell, he’d say, with no other explanation. Anger drove energy back into my limbs as I got to my feet.

“A setup for what? To make your back room a mess? Beg you to send me home? I must be a genius spy.” I was barely under a yell. The only thing that stopped me were the people still in the office who might be listening.

“I’m finding it hard to believe that you’re quite this bad. It’s not natural.” He was crowding me, standing so close that I could feel some sort of electricity that fizzed from him. He had an energy that somehow called to mine, made me want to reach out and touch him, just to see if that tingle would be there. But if I did touch him, there was a very high likelihood that I’d kill him, or attempt to, anyway.

I looked up at him, wishing I was a foot taller. “Then why don’t you get rid of me and send me back to Salem?”

“Because you’re bought and paid for, and damned if I’m not getting what I want.” His voice was deep and growly, nearly vibrating through the room.

“Then you better figure out another way to teach me,