Descension (18 page)

“What you’re seeing is my aura,” he revealed, “an abstract look into my soul. All magicians can see them, from the moment they’re born, and I’m sure it was the same for you. But while most magical babies have families who acknowledge auras, point them out and talk about them, you were raised by a woman who wouldn’t have been able to see them no matter how hard she looked. Without her validation, you likely ceased to believe, and you must look for auras to notice them.”

With every second that passed, his aura became clearer. Layla could distinguish different colors now, whereas before they were blurry and pale. “It’s very pretty.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, “because you’ll probably see it from now on.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Looking for someone’s aura comes as naturally as looking for their face. Now that you know about them, you’ll find them without even trying, and you’ll quickly figure out how to read them.”

“Read them?”

“Yes. You’ll learn to recognize emotions, musings and magical power.”

“Oh.”

“I’m going to lift the concealment spell,” he warned.

“Okay,” she agreed, and his body filled the empty space inside the fog, which somehow sharpened his image instead of obscuring it.

“You really like it,” he observed.

“Very much,” she admitted. “I’m afraid to look away.”

“Don’t be. Give it a try. Look at the waterfall then back to me.”

Layla watched him and his aura for another ten seconds before forcing her gaze away. Then she whipped it back around, already missing the sublime view. “It’s still there,” she beamed, searching the mist. It had gotten thinner, and the colors had dulled, but the longer she stared at it, the more vibrant it became.

Quin knelt and took her hand, scanning the air around her as he pulled her to her feet. “Would you believe me if I said your aura is the most beautiful I’ve seen?”

Layla looked from his colorful haze to his dark gaze. “I don’t know. You say things like that a lot.”

“Because I mean them,” he assured. “Your aura captivated me the moment I saw you. It’s unlike any before it, and it’s only gotten better since yesterday.” He paused as he searched her eyes. Then he moved a little closer. “I know hundreds of witches, Layla, and most of them have beautiful bodies, faces and auras, but they’re average compared to you, and none of them have affected me the way you do. You’re the only thing I’ve thought about since meeting you.”

Layla didn’t disclose that he was mirroring her feelings for him; she didn’t have the courage and admired him for his.

A flash of green caught her eye, and she looked at the mist surrounding him. “Will I ever not see it?”

“You can make it go away anytime you want,” he answered. “Just ignore it, pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“I don’t want to,” she blurted. Then she blushed and looked down, hiding her flustered face.

“Good,” he whispered, pulling her palm to his heart, “because I don’t want you to. But if you’d like, you can make it softer without losing it altogether. Just imagine what you want to see.”

Trembling from head to toe, Layla doubted her ability to concentrate, but after a long moment of silence, her heart rate mellowed and her focus sharpened. She turned it to Quin’s aura, imagining the mist fading, and the colors blanched. When she yearned to see it more clearly, the colors flared.

“You’re advancing quickly,” he noted.

“How can you tell?” she asked.

“Your aura,” he answered. “I can see your power improving.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to try something different?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “The possibilities must be endless.”

“We could try some elemental magic.”

“Elemental?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, waving his free hand through the air, and a breeze floated into the clearing, lifting the curls framing Layla’s face.

“You did that?” she asked, glancing around.

“Yes. That was a form of air magic. You also have water,” he said, motioning to the creek, and three liquid fish jumped from its surface. “Earth,” he added, stretching his hand over the jellybean shaped boulder, and the moss quickly grew, veiling the stone in greenery. “And last but not least,” he finished, raising his palm, “fire.”

A perfectly round fireball with a diameter of at least seven feet shot into the air, halting and hovering near the treetops. Then it began slithering, constantly changing form until it had taken the shape of Layla’s name—burning cursive letters stretching across the cloudy blue sky. When Quin closed his hand, the flames dissipated.

“Which would you like to try?” he asked.

Layla continued to watch the sky, mesmerized. “That one.”

“Okay,” he agreed, “but don’t be disappointed if nothing happens. Out of the four, fire’s the hardest to work with.”

“Why?”

“Because it rarely has a base. I had air, water and earth at my disposal, but no fire.”

“But that was fantastic,” she countered, pointing toward the sky.

“It wasn’t bad, but I’m a fire child, so it was easy.”

She snapped her gaze to his face. “You’re a what?”

“A fire child,” he repeated. “All magicians know basic elemental magic, but each of us thrives at one element in particular. Mine is fire.”

“Can you tell what mine is?” she asked. “By my aura?”

“No. That’s something you’ll figure out when you start reaching your limits.”

“Oh,” she breathed, shoulders sagging.

Quin reached up, lightly tapping her pout. “What’s that about?”

“It’s overwhelming,” she explained, “how little I know.”

“I see,” he whispered, pulling her into a hug.

Layla’s fingers flexed over his heart as she rested her cheek to his chest, her lungs stuttering as tingles slid down her spine to her fluttering tummy. The move felt monumental, like the earth’s axis had shifted and nothing would ever be the same. Layla was a changed woman, enlightened as she stared at Quin’s hand, inhaled his scent, and listened to his pulse.

“You’ve handled everything beautifully,” he commended. “If you want to learn, I have no doubt you’ll do it in record time.”

“It’s not just that,” she countered. “There’s twenty-one years of knowledge missing. My background, my parentage… my identity, it’s all a mystery. I’m afraid I’ll never catch up.”

He leaned in, touching his lips to her hair, and her scalp buzzed with tickling energy. “I know some really great people who could shed some light on the situation,” he noted.

Layla’s bones softened at the idea of meeting her family. What would she say?
Hi, nice to meet you. I hear you’re a bunch of witches and wizards
. Talk about inappropriate.

“No one’s going to force you to do this,” Quin added. “We know it’s hard. If you need more time, take it.”

What was to gain by keeping her head in the sand? Nothing, there was nothing to gain by avoiding the truth, but the things she could gain by facing her fears—abundant. “They know I’m here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“They know you’re with me?”

“Yes.”

“So what now?”

Quin leaned back and found her eyes. “That’s up to you. Your family wants to see you when you’re ready. They want you to join the coven and live the life you were born to live. They want to know you. But if these things aren’t what you want, you’re free to go on with your life as you please.” He paused, taking her face in both hands as he moved a little closer. “But I should probably warn you—choosing not to join the coven doesn’t necessarily get rid of me. Now that I know you, I have no desire to stay away from you.”

“I don’t want you to,” she whispered.

“Good.” He watched her lips for a moment then released her face, taking her hands instead. “I’m not rushing you, but I’m curious. Do you know what you want to do?”

She knew, and it only fueled her nerves. Making the decision hadn’t calmed her at all. “Yes,” she answered. “I want to meet my family, but not until I get some food and coffee.”

A huge sigh whooshed from his lungs as his lips curved toward dimples. “Food and coffee sounds great.” He held out a hand, and his water glass and raincoat flew from the ground. After offering her a drink, he drained the glass and tucked the items into his bag. “Ready?”

“Not quite,” she refused. “I didn’t get to try my elemental magic.”

“That’s right,” he remembered, stepping behind her. “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t,” she objected.

“You won’t always have to close them,” he assured. “It’s a beginner’s tool, to help block out distractions and increase focus.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Are your eyes closed?”

“Yes.”

“Raise your right arm, palm forward, straight out in front of you.”

She obeyed, and he touched two fingers to her right temple.

“Start to imagine the fire here,” he instructed. “Think about every detail—color, movement, sound, feel. Picture it as clearly as you possibly can. When you feel like the image is complete, nod your head.”

Layla put the pieces of the blaze together in her mind, creating a surprisingly clear vision. Then she barely nodded, afraid too much movement would shake the image away.

Quin felt the tiny nod and quietly continued. “The goal is to transport that fire down your arm and out your hand. When I move my fingers, try to make the flames follow.”

The slight pressure at her temple crept downward, and she mentally urged the blaze to follow. She was quite pleased that it did and nearly lost the image as excitement jarred her concentration, but she forced the pride to cede so she could maintain focus.

Quin’s fingers slowly trailed over her jaw then down her neck, and heat penetrated inside and out. The inside burn was a result of the vision, while the warmth on the outside stemmed from his touch. As his fingertips made their way across her shoulder, the heat followed, flaring from her temple to the top of her arm. The trail was several degrees hotter than the rest of her body, but it was exhilarating rather than painful.

When Quin got to her wrist, he pulled his hand away, but stayed close. “When I count to three, take all that heat and push it from your outstretched hand as forcefully as you can. Make a point to imagine it traveling away from your body, not around it, and don’t drop your hand until you’re sure the heat’s gone.”

The warmth pulsed from Layla’s head to her fingertips, and she thought of it as a single unit that couldn’t be divided, so when a portion went, the rest would go.

Quin was at her ear again, whispering. “On three. One…”

She pulled in a deep breath.

“Two…”

She braced herself.

“Three…”

She mentally pushed then flipped her eyes open, finding an imperfect sphere of flames shooting from her palm. About the size of a large beach ball, it soared several feet then evaporated with a loud pop.

Layla was thrilled. She’d never felt anything like it. The flames had left, but their power still surged her body. She felt like she could do anything, like she could fly to Mars and find a cure for cancer, or dive to the depths of the ocean to solve world hunger.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“To say the least,” Quin mumbled, staring at the puff of dissipating smoke. Then he shook his head and looked at Layla. “I practiced magic for years before creating a fireball that big. Maybe you’re a fire child.”

“That felt wonderful,” she beamed, vibrating from head to toe. “It still does.”

“I can tell,” Quin whispered. “You radiate emotions like body heat.”

“What?” she asked.

“Never mind,” he replied, smiling as he pointed toward her trembling body. “We like to call that post-power euphoria.”

“Will it go away?”

“Yes.”

Her smile fell, and he laughed. “You’ll feel it again soon,” he assured. “I still feel it often.”

Layla brightened as she considered trying the magic again, but then her stomach growled.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Quin suggested.

Layla bit her lip, afraid leaving the clearing meant leaving the magic. “I feel like everything I’ve learned this morning will cease to exist as soon as I walk away.”

“That won’t happen,” he countered.

“I know. It’s foolish.”

“Not really. Everything you’ve witnessed here are things you’ve never seen anywhere else. It’s natural to relate the two, but it’s you who holds the magic, not the clearing.”

“I guess,” she agreed, reaching for the ponytail holder on her wrist, but Quin closed a hand around it.

“You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You’re a witch,” he answered. “Tangles are no longer a problem.” He lightly ran his fingers down her curls. “If it gets messy, I’ll show you how to fix it with magic.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” She wrinkled her nose, wondering what other perks lay in wait. “How convenient.”