Page 24 of Until the Stars Fall

He peered intensely at my hand and ran a finger down the center of my palm to my wrist. I took a breath, trying to ignore the shiver that went through me at his light touch.

“Your fate line…” he said, turning my hand this way and that in the scarce light, “...is broken.”

I laughed an unfunny laugh. “That seems about right.”

He shook his head and resumed in his normal voice. “It’s not a bad thing. It usually means a career change, a change in life direction. Some kinda change. Ooh—” He paused, looking up through his long lashes. “I hate to tell you this.”

I scrunched up my face. “Oh God. What?”

He looked down, licked his lips, and looked back up. “This is the palm of a witch.”

I shook my head. “If you’re trying to get my buy-in, you’re not gonna get it.”

“No, really. Look.” He pointed to the base of my pinky. “Over a dozen lines. It’s a Samaritan sign. You’re a great healer.”

I narrowed my eyes. I did used to do healing magic. Little things, like zits and scrapes. Some bigger things, too, like a twisted ankle from volleyball. Hannah must’ve told him. I leaned in closer to him, peering at my palm.

“Psychic cross under your ring finger—somebody’s gonna be lucky in love.” He grinned, and my heart sped up. “One under your index finger too. Ever consider teaching?”

It was hard to return his gaze with my brain caught on the words lucky in love. He really sucked at palm reading. I shook my head to answer him.

He dragged his fingertip from my ring finger to the center of my palm. “You’ve got a mystic cross. Did your magic come in at a young age?”

“I was twelve. Is that young?”

He nodded. “A lot of people don’t get theirs until they’re thirteen, if not older. And ooh, this is rare. Your life line meets up with three bracelets on your wrist. That indicates a long, healthy life, and a lot of happiness.”

“When’s that supposed to start?” I scoffed.

He smirked and released my hand. Sitting back and resting his elbow on the back of the sofa, he sat his chin on his hand. I pulled my own hand back awkwardly into my lap. His green eyes were bright, and he spoke gently. “You know, having magic is more of a blessing than a curse. Is there a reason why you’re trying to shut it out?”

I nodded but didn’t answer.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. But can I at least try to help you?”

I tucked a foot up and peered down at my hands, at the lines at the base of my pinky that supposedly proved I’m a witch. “I can’t control it,” I said quietly, willing the tears not to come. They came anyway, slipping down my face. I wiped them away. “I’m sorry I put us all in danger. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s alright. We’re all okay.”

I risked looking up at him. His eyes were soft as he waited for me to go on. He genuinely meant what he was saying. The open kindness on his face cracked my shell open.

“I’ve tried to hold it in, honestly I have. For years. But it keeps breaking out of me at all the wrong times. I do okay when things are going okay. When I’m calm. But if I’m scared, or angry, or upset—really any strong emotion—it barrels out of me.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “If you can help me control it and keep the ship safe, I should let you. Do you really think you can? For the sake of the ship?” I added hastily.

His smile was almost fond. “Does bionic electro-plasma resynchronize erbium microfilament?”

I laughed through my tears. “Yes. Yes it does.”

“But just so we’re clear,” he said, sitting up and taking on a more serious tone, “the only way I know to help you isn’t by getting you to suppress it. Tell me if I’m wrong. I definitely don’t know all the answers.” He tilted his head. “You seem like you just want it to go away.”

I looked down, nodding, crunching my face up against the tears falling faster.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t think—” He breathed out heavily. “Trying to subdue it is like trying to shove down all your feelings. Or mixing dry ice and water in a closed container. It’s gonna explode out.”

I cried harder at his apt description. The harder I pushed it down, the wilder it came back up.

“Aww, Gemma,” he said, scooting closer and laying his hand briefly on my forearm. He jumped up and came back with a tissue box, handing it to me and continuing softly. “I think maybe that’s why you’re having so much trouble. From what I know about it, the only real way to control magic is to use it. If you focus it in ways you want it to work, and don’t let it build up unspent, it won’t come barreling out when you don’t want it to.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him about Madam Indigo. But no, she warned me the process might be painful, and I didn’t want him to try and talk me out of it, or even worse, tell Hannah about it, who’d tell Noah and anybody else who’d listen.

---