Page 25 of Until the Stars Fall

“I really don’t want to use it,” I cried. “Isn’t there anything else we can do?”

He bit his lip, frowning empathetically and rubbing his upper arms like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “I don’t think so, but maybe we’ll come across something. I hate that you’re so sad, Gemma, I just wanna hug ya,” he said. “Can I hug you?”

I nodded, still crying, and he stretched his broad arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. He murmured softly, “Hey, it’ll be okay. I’ll help you. I promise.”

I leaned against his chest, and the persistent pressure of my magic eased. Gradually, my sobbing calmed, my tears lessened. Being in his arms made me feel protected. Cared for, even, like when I was a child, and my mother would rock me to sleep. I couldn’t think about what that meant, that being near this witchy man who finally started smiling at me brought me so much comfort. Even a few days before, I couldn’t have imagined talking so honestly to anyone about my magic, especially him.

Did I overshare? Embarrassment washed through me, and I pulled away. His shirt was wet where my face had been. “I’m sorry,” I said, avoiding his eyes. I was such a pain, such a burden. Such an embarrassment.

“Sorry for what? You don’t need to be sorry for anything.”

“Sorry for being such a mess. You would’ve had a peaceful trip if I hadn’t been here.”

“Nah.” He chuckled. “It would’ve been boring. I’m glad you’re here.”

His smile was genuine, and warm, and I ducked my head, feeling even more embarrassed and not knowing why. “Thank you.” I pulled out another tissue and cleaned up my face. “Okay. I’ll accept your help. But can we start in the morning?”

“Of course! Whatever you want.” He yawned. “It is gettin’ late. I’d better go check the antimatter drive before I go to bed. Probably shouldn’t have bothered with the shower.” He stood up but narrowed his eyes at me. “You good?”

I nodded. “I’m okay.”

He patted my head twice on his way out the door. “Sleep tight.”

I missed him the second the door closed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After lunch, Beck and I sat cross-legged on the rug beside his hammock, facing each other with a spare candle sitting on the floor between us. The engine room purred and hummed around us.

“I had trouble controlling my magic too, when I was thirteen,” he said. “But my grandpa worked with me to harness it. Lighting a candle by blowing on the wick requires a lot of focus, which makes it good practice.”

He held the candle in front of his lips and blew as if trying to snuff out a candle. Instead, the flame leapt to life out of nothing, and his minty breath wafted my way.

“Amazing.” No less miraculous than the first day I’d seen it.

He blew it out and pinched the wick. “Here, you try.”

I took the candle from him, my fingers grazing his. The black wick was an island in a little pool of wax. Dead and lifeless. No way could I coax a fire from it. I looked at him doubtfully.

“Ok, position it right here.” He put his hands around mine and brought the candle up so that it was in front of my lips. “And close your eyes. Reach in and grab onto the first bit of magic you find.”

I complied, finding it hard to concentrate beyond his hands over mine. But once I went looking for my magic, it sprang right up like it had been expecting me. I bit my lip, trying to keep it in check.

“Don’t bite your lip,” he gently admonished. “You wanna channel it, not choke it off. Envision this candle, show your magic in your mind’s eye that you want it to light the wick, only the wick, and when you’re ready, open your eyes and blow out. Let your magic ride on your breath to accomplish your task.”

My magic danced inside of me, a dog eager to grab a treat from its mistress’s hand. I cleared my mind, focusing on the image of fire lighting a candle, opened my eyes, and blew.

A bright orange flame was born on the wick, but it flickered and went out. Its ghost curled into the air between us.

My shoulders slumped, but Beck whooped.

“I saw it! It almost caught. I’m impressed. It took me a whole day to do what you just did.”

I relaxed a little, pleased that he was pleased with my efforts.

“Okay, now try it one more time,” he said, not lowering his hands. “Then we’ll try to replace the crocheted net with that stuff you found yesterday. You don’t want to try too long in one sitting. It can be frustrating, and you have a much better chance of it all going sideways.”

“Wait, there’s no danger I’m going to set you on fire, is there?”

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