Page 15 of Witchy Woman

“Instead.” She claps her hands. “We are going to focus on summoning. Hazel, you will demonstrate how you can summon air in your hands. I will demonstrate how I summon earth. And we will have Laura make her first attempts at summoning fire.”

This? This could be okay. No whispering magic, no unbearable heat. And fuck, I just did a pretty good job of heating the backyard. This will be a piece of cake.

“Sounds a lot more fun than making weird noises while sitting crisscross applesauce,” I reply.

And feeling like I’m burning alive. Much more fun than that.

“Right.” The look Grandma gives me is full of playful judgment, and I’ll be the first to admit I deserve it. “Hazel?”

Hazel adjusts herself on her fluffy pillow. She carries herself differently ever since she met Noah, with more surety. She knows exactly who she is now. Like I used to.

With a flourish of her hands, she conjures a small tornado in her palm. It whips and turns in its own small area, not disturbing anything else.

It’s cool. I guess.

“Wonderful, Hazel. Your speed with conjuring has improved significantly!”

I resist an eye roll.

Grandma lifts her hands in a similar motion, keeping one steady and one twirling above in a wave. Out of thin air, an orange poppy appears. The manifestation of the magic is a little different based on their elements, but the theory is the same. Create something where nothing existed before.

“Clear your mind and—” Grandma starts.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” I don’t need Grandma to tell me to connect to my element again. If anything, I’m too connected to the whispery fucker.

I lift my hands; the left is palm up and the right held above it, palm down. Nothing hard about it, just conjure fire out of literally nothing.

I close my eyes and listen to the crackle of the bonfire Grandma set just like last time. I am fire and fire is me, or something. Magic slips down my spine, running along my body like a comforting hand.

“Laura, that’s beautiful.” Hazel’s gasping breath makes me open my eyes.

Between my hands is a twisting blue flame. It licks at my right hand but doesn’t burn. Itiskind of beautiful, actually. The way it undulates almost looks like it’s dancing, beckoning me closer.

I gaze at the fire, and there they are. The little indistinct whispers I always hear. Sometimes they’re quiet, sometimes they’re louder, but they’re always gibberish. Except when someone asks about the funeral.

About Mom.

I’m back in the heat. That sweltering, overwhelming chasm of darkness. I don’t see anything but the flame in front of me, don’t hear anything but the crackling roar of the fire.

Help.

HELP!

“Laura, come back now!” Grandma’s voice is far away, like she’s at the end of a long tunnel. I follow it. Just her voice, until I can feel her fingers on my temples and see the fear in her eyes.

The heat fades away.

It takesa few moments for the last vestiges of smoke to clear from my mind, for me to feel safe. And even when I’m finally convinced I’m not in the heat anymore, I don’t really feel that safe.

“What the hell is happening?” Hazel murmurs.

“Laura has to be ready to tell us,” Grandma replies. “And that will only happen on her own time.”

She’s being surprisingly nonchalant about this entire thing, and I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. She’d be full-on panicking if it were really bad, right?

“You both are under the impression I know what’s happening.” I meet their stares. Hazel looks back with frustration and Grandma with barely restrained amusement.

I’m glad one of us is having a good time.