Page 19 of Strike It Witch

“You might want to think about extending the wall to the ceiling after this,” I said.

“Already on my to-do list,” she replied.

We chose a spot in a quiet corner. I set my bag down and opened the back door, my eyes stinging from the difference between the dark storeroom and the bright sunlight. I found a mound of unhappy grass in a cement planter a few feet from the door. It was blackened from car exhaust and as dry as the Sahara.

I bent down beside it, sinking my fingers into the clumpy, hard-packed dirt. Sent magic into the roots.

“Got a deal for you,” I whispered. “Interested?”

The grass rippled. I closed my eyes and gave over to the push-pull sensation of connecting with my element.

I walked back into the storeroom with the soil, my connection to it slight and weak. Sweat beaded at my templesand under my nose. My hands trembled as if I were carrying a load too heavy for my muscles to bear. The magic was more pull than push today. I didn’t have enough power to keep this up for long.

This was part of my pain, the part I hadn’t shared with Ida.

The longer I stay in Smokethorn, the weaker my magic becomes.

“Betty, what in the world?” Bronwyn’s mouth fell open. “Did anyone see you?”

It was a fair question. After all, it wasn’t every day that a five-by-five clump of dry grass and dirt dug itself out of a planter and floated through the air.

Still, I didn’t bother answering. I was using all my energy to guide the soil to a spot on the floor beneath the plant’s destination. Bronwyn had pushed the crate there to use as a container for the soil—a place for the plant to take root.

I fed magic into the soil square, and it sent it back to me as best it could. The crunchy, limp grass perked up and turned lush green as I lowered it into the crate.

“Florecer,” I chanted.

My skin was like fire. My head felt as if it were floating somewhere in the rafters with theNepenthes, and that wasn’t by design. Darkness drained most of the light out of my vision. Despite this, I pushed with all my might, and magic rose from the soil in the crate, licking the walls and ceiling in the space like invisible flames.

“Luz. Agua,” I chanted, welcoming light and moisture into the space. My magic squeezed water from the atmosphere and quadrupled it. The temperature was a cool seventy-five, which was fine for daytime.

“Turn the a/c up to sixty-five or so before you leave tonight. That’ll mimic the night temperatures in his natural habitat. I can’t do anything about the elevation, but this is temporary,anyway.” A sharp pain spiked through my head, and I gritted my teeth against the urge to scream.

“What did you do to that soil? I could’ve sworn it was beyond saving. Building maintenance ignores it.”

“I had a talk with it,” I said, my voice more normal than I’d expected, considering how bad I felt.

The pitcher plant hadn’t yet appeared. Bronwyn made a kissing noise. “Come here, Mr. Plant, we’ve got a nice spot for you.”

“Are you seriously trying to summon a giant carnivorous plant by making kissy sounds at it? Bronwyn, that’s not going to?—”

A slender green vine slithered above us, forcing me to eat the words I’d been about to say. It snaked around a wooden beam and waited—or at least, that’s what it appeared to be doing. When more of theNepenthesappeared, the slender vine dangled into the crate.

Testing.

I pushed more magic into the soil, breaking up the clumps and incorporating the criminally tiny amount that had already been present inside the crate.

“Looks like he approves,” Bronwyn said.

The giant pitcher plant crept across the ceiling, using vines like hands, grasping the overhead beams. A thick purple-green vine speared into the crate, releasing roots, and planting itself. I felt the sigh of relief that went through the plant and the soil. It was a symbiotic relationship: the soil needed the plant as much as the plant needed the soil. As much as I needed both.

“He’s hungry.” I rested a hand on the crate and shut my eyes while my head did its best to return to the rest of my body. “They eat insects and small animals, but orchid fertilizer should suffice for now. You can have some delivered from a home store. For the moment, the soil’s enough.”

“What in the name of the goddess do I do with him?”

My vision was so dark it looked like midnight instead of midmorning. “There’s a witch in Tucson who operates an exotic greenhouse. I’ve worked with her before. She’ll not only take him in, she’ll probably pay you a lot of money for the honor.”

Bronwyn worried her lower lip with her front teeth. “Feels wrong to profit. I just want him to go to a good home.”

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