Soul of a Witch: Chapter 29
Soul of a Witch (Souls Trilogy)
As eager as I was to get back down to Sybilâs laboratory and dig through her notes, Callum insisted I couldnât until I was confident in my ability to protect myself. I needed training; I had years of magical knowledge to absorb, and a very short time to do it.
Grams warned me the training would be exhausting â I still wasnât fully prepared.
The weather was clear, so I took the radio out into the yard, to the rose garden behind the greenhouse. A fountain trickled nearby, crowned with a statue of a faun spouting water from its mouth. The roses were in bloom, the fruit trees were blossoming, even the vegetables were growing. The season didnât matter to these plants; magic sustained them, and they were tended to by Darragh.
Callum accompanied us, remaining quiet throughout my lessons but watching me carefully, occasionally giving his input to adjust my technique or change my stance.
âKeep your feet planted firmly on the ground,â he said, as I attempted to shatter a row of crystal goblets set atop the garden wall. âAs you release the spell, shift your weight forward as you exhale.â
He made it sound so damn easy. At least I had leather gloves now; Iâd found them locked in a chest in one of the other bedrooms, alongside a grimoire written by Aunt Cynthia, my grandfatherâs sister. Iâd never known the woman existed, but her grimoire now sat on my bedside table, filled with her notes and experiences using fire magic.
âLet the heat build within your chest,â my grandmother said, the radio turned up as loud as possible. âFocus it there as you breathe in, then release.â
Widening my stance, I inhaled deeply. Heat gathered within me, throbbing in my chest like a ticking bomb. My hands twitched. My legs felt unsteady.
When I shifted my weight, I was off-balance. Bolts of fire shot over the wall and exploded in the sky, with a bang loud enough to hurt my ears.
âAgain,â Grandmother said. âSteady yourself.â
Again and again, I tried and failed. Sometimes the explosions were massive and fiery; others were barely more than sparks. I burnt several rose bushes to a crisp. I singed the grass around my feet until it was blackened.
We were at it for hours, and my excitement dissolved into frustration.
Then fury.
What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldnât I control it? Why was it so goddamn hard?
âYour shoulders are too tense,â Grandmother said. âYou must relax them. Flow through the motions.â
âIâm trying!â I snapped. My hands clenched into fists. Every breath was quick and shallow as anger filled me, and with it, came panic.
What if my father had been right? My magic was wild, and I wasnât strong enough to command it. I was just weakâ¦stupidâ¦ignorantâ¦
Flinging my hands forward with a yell, scorching bolts of flame flew from me like arrows, and the goblets exploded into sparkling shards of glass. My heart was hammering, my breath coming in quick shallow bursts. Flames surrounded me, licking my face as if I was standing in the middle of a bonfire. The fire grew hotter and more vicious with every second, my chest so tight I could barely breathe.
Suddenly, cold water splashed into my face. I sputtered, my fire instantly doused, my hair and clothes now soaked. Callum stood beside the nearby fountain, shaking water from his hand.
âPerhaps itâs time for a break,â he said, folding his arms.
I wiped the water from my face, biting my lip. The tips of my hair were singed, and my clothes were dirtied with soot. The surprise of being splashed with water had at least halted my panic attack, but anxiety was still tight and roiling in my chest.
My grandmother chuckled. âYou are indeed a fire witch, with that temper. Anger is more productive than fear, but just as difficult to control. Your mind is your greatest weapon, Everly, but it can also be your greatest weakness.â
âAnd what the hell am I supposed to do about that?â A wave of exhaustion made me squeeze my eyes shut. I wanted to sit down somewhere quiet, before more angry words burst out of me. Perhaps it would be better to dunk my whole head into the fountain and simply never come up.
Grams was only trying to teach me. I was the one failing.
She was silent for a moment, and my shame grew until I wanted to cry.
At last, she said, âCallum, would you show her the meditation room? Learning to guard her mind and calm her thoughts is imperative if weâre going to make any progress.â
Callum led me into an area of the house I hadnât explored before. The stone walls were covered with creeping vines, grass and flowers were growing through the ancient floor. The air was cool and smelled like dust. As if no one had been there for a long time.
We were both silent. My doubts were choking me. How could I possibly hope to fight against a being as powerful as the Deep One if I couldnât remain calm enough to practice? I was trapped in an endless cycle of anger and fear: fear of my failures, then anger at my fear, then more fear of my own anger.
It was a whirlpool, sucking me down, drowning me. Too powerful to fight.
Ahead of us, down a short staircase, was a familiar sight: a doorway sealed with black rope, that dissipated slowly as we approached. The doors swung open, the ancient hinges creaking, and we entered a large open room. There were no windows, but elaborate tapestries and vines hung from the concave stone walls.
âTake off your shoes, and your jacket,â Callum said.
The smooth stone floor was cool under my bare feet. Stepping onto a large, richly colored carpet, I curled my toes in its plush surface and sighed.
Overhead was a massive mechanical model of the solar system. The planets were formed of brass, with shining copper arms moving them slowly through their rotations. A backdrop of stunningly painted constellations covered the ceiling.
âThis is the meditation room,â Callum said, as I stared in astonishment. âWhile you are free to meditate anywhere in the house, this place was built for exactly that. The spell work within these walls is meant to promote peace, calm, and focus. Every day, before you begin your lessons, come here first.â
The effect was subtle, but I did feel calmer. My churning anxiety had faded, leaving me exhausted. My muscles ached, and my face stung as if Iâd been sunburned.
âWhy donât you look at me?â
Startled, I finally did look at him. âSorry! I meanâ¦â I grit my teeth, but I was unable to come up with anything more than another lame apology. âIâm sorry I lost my temper. Iâm sorry I couldnât finish the lesson today. I couldnât do it.â
He frowned, tipping his head curiously to the side. âYou did do it. You broke the goblets. You summoned fire. As for your temperâ¦â He chuckled as he folded his arms. âI like seeing you in a rage. Itâs sexy. The way your power fills the air is divine. But offer an apology to your grandmother. Sheâll understand your frustration. Iâm sure every young witch went through something similar.â
Tears welled, and I immediately looked away again. In a blink, Callum was at my side, cupping my face, tipping my head up. âSshh, youâre alright. Donât look away. Everly.â I met his gaze, straining not to let a single tear fall. âTraining will exhaust you. It will push you to your limits. Thereâs no shame in the work you did today.â
My throat was tight, but I said, âI wish I knew what it was like to know other witches. To train with them. Be surrounded by them. But Iâve alwaysâ¦alwaysâ¦been alone. Ugh!â I scrubbed my hands over my face in frustration. âI shouldnât feel sorry for myself. This is ridiculous. I have work to do, I need to study â â
âNot tonight.â Callum gripped my arms, preventing me from storming away. âNo more tonight. Youâre exhausted. Youâve given all you can. Stop.â He placed a finger over my lips, silencing my protests. âMake yourself comfortable. You need to clear your head.â
He stepped back, giving me space as I wandered to the center of the room and sat cross-legged on the round green carpet. Straightening my back, I closed my eyes and took slow deep breaths.
This was the opposite of relaxing. I didnât have time for this. I thrived on keeping myself busy; it was the only way to keep anxiety at bay. If I wasnât studying, I was jogging. If I wasnât jogging, I was reading or painting.
I needed to be down in Sybilâs laboratory. I needed to be out in the garden practicing, or in the library studying, or running up and down the stairs until my lungs burned and my brain was too tired to worry anymore.
âSo much tension.â Callum grasped my shoulders and squeezed. His breath was warm on my neck, his cheek brushing softly against my own. âRelax your body. Every muscle. Let your bones go limp.â
His claws scratched lightly over my scalp before he gripped my hair, easing me backward until I was lying flat on the floor. Arms and legs splayed, eyes closed, I released a heavy breath. My brain grasped at my swirling worries, clinging to them, determined not to let go.
Callum moved down my body, rubbing my arms, massaging my muscles. He worked down my legs, to my feet, then back up again, working at a slow pace as he spoke to me softly.
âLet your mind slow down. You donât need to be thoughtless. You only need to let your thoughts go. Allow them to pass through and disappear.â
Easier said than done.
His touch was so soothing. My thoughts stalled, and I began to feel as if was floating.
âThere you are, darling. Let yourself drift.â
My worries didnât seem so important anymore. I ached too much to move; weariness weighed me down. Callum kept massaging me, speaking to me gently, his words like a lullaby.
I opened my eyes just enough to see the twirling planets overhead. The mechanism spun with a slow and steady tick, lulling my mind into a state of half-sleep.
Driftingâ¦
Almost dreaming.
The thoughts that floated through my mind took greater form; images of people, familiar voices, pungent smells I could have sworn were real. They played like a movie, whether I focused on them or not. But when I did finally allow my attention to hone in on them, I saw a face Iâd never expected.
Juniper Kynes.
The girl who got away was now a woman, covered in scars and tattoos, with dark eyes full of anger. She carried a gun on her back, and at her side, an unfamiliar, golden-eyed demon.
My eyes flew open, although I hadnât even realized Iâd closed them again. I lay there gasping softly, and Callumâs face appeared as he crouched over me.
âIâ¦I saw something,â I choked out. âSomething real.â