Page 40 of When Storms Awaken

“He willneverdo that again.” His voice was almost a whisper as he tucked the lock he had between his fingertips behind my ear, sending a shiver down my spine for an entirely different reason. All I could do was nod.

“Are you going to tell us what this ‘business’ is, now that we’re involved in it?” I asked.

“No,” Nik and Puck replied in tandem.

“We will handle it,” Nik replied resolutely. He kept saying that. He had said that the night Fletcher had come to my house, but then we saw him again at the club. And now we would have to see him at school every day if he was going to be our permanent substitute. Tess and I exchanged a glance across the table as they pushed their chairs back and stood. “I mean it. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Nik said, squeezing my shoulder and heading towards the door.

“Text you,” Puck told Tess with a wink as he followed Nik out into the building snowstorm.

The snow had started to fall harder while we had been in the bakery. I took my hot chocolate with me and drove Tess down the street to her shift, so she didn’t have to walk in the frigid whiteout.

As I made my way out of the town center and towards my house, the snow only deepened, covering the roads in a thick powder. How Tess planned to get home after her shift was beyond me. Hopefully her dad had four-wheel drive and a set of chains. I parked my car in the driveway as a plow went by, doing its best to salt the streets before the storm took a turn for the worse.

I shook the snow out of my hair in the foyer, kicking my boots off and moving to warm my hands by the fire. I could smell my mom’s famous lasagna from all the way out here. Had she gotten out of work early today?

“Is that you, honey?” I heard her call from the kitchen.

“Coming!” I called back, moving towards the scents of fresh basil and oregano.

“What’s the special occasion?” I asked, pulling out a barstool and taking a seat at the counter. My mom turned to me with a smile, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, a dish towel thrown over her shoulder.

“Not only did we hire another anchor today, but they gave me a promotion!”

“That’s amazing, Mom! Congratulations. After all the hard work and over-time you’ve been putting in, I’m glad they are showing how much they appreciate all that you do.”

“This means no more crazy hours.” She smiled, cutting up slices of warm French bread.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been helping out around the house as much. I’ve been a little distracted,” I apologized, the guilt settling in my stomach heavy as a brick.

“You know, if there is anything you want to talk about, you can always come to me.” She peered at me over the rim of her glasses. I grabbed a piece of the fresh bread, dipping a piece into the dish of olive oil before me and popping it in my mouth to buy me a moment.

“I know.” I smiled around the mouthful of food. There was a lot I could talk to my mom about, but I didn’t think this was one of them. Would she even try to understand? Would she immediately think I was crazy? If she saw with her own two eyes what I could do…maybe it would be different. Everything was so fresh and new, I was still trying to figure everything out about my magic. I needed more time to process, then maybe I could talk to her about it. The thought of broaching that conversation with her made me feel nervous all over. I wanted her to understand me, and to believe me.

“Where’s Jake?” I asked, dipping another piece of bread into the oil.

“Study group, as always,” she laughed. “You know him, always the overachiever.” I rolled my eyes. Jake and I couldn’t be more opposite. While I didn’t have bad grades by any means, I could never put in the type of work Jake did. He may only be eleven, but he already had his sights set on medical school, at the least.

Mom and I had a quiet dinner alone, catching up on all the details of her new position at work and telling her all about my classes. It was nice to catch up with her like this. We almost never had one-on-one time together. The lasagna was exactly how I always remembered. I picked all the crusty parts around the edges for myself.

We washed the dishes together, then curled up by the fire, me with my history book and her with a novella and a glass of red wine. I loved nights like these. There was nothing better than curling up with my mom under the blanket and spending time together, not talking.

After a few hours of studying, I could feel my eyes getting tired. As soon as I lay down and my head hit the pillow, I was pulled down into a dark and familiar dream. A dream with a long dark corridor and a cracked wooden door.

Ipressedmyhandto the wooden door, and it opened under my touch, creaking loudly, revealing a long, dark corridor. I glanced back, but there was nothing, no indication of where I had just come from. There was nothing but suffocating darkness in every direction.

The only way out was onward, down into the dark passageway. I tentatively stepped over the stone threshold into the corridor, the door slamming shut behind me of its own accord. I started down the windowless passage and I could see the faint glow of torchlight that lit the path further down. I needed to get down there, get down to the light, then I could see. I ran my hand along the stone wall to guide me, the only noise the soft sound of my shoes against the uneven rocks.

When I reached the part of the hallway that was lit by torchlight, I picked up my pace. Where did this corridor go? Where did it end? I walked on for several minutes, and when I turned back, I could no longer see the door that had led me here. Did this corridor ever end at all, or was it infinite?

Just when I thought I might be stuck in this eternal tunnel, I could see something in the distance. Another door. This door was also wooden, but was adorned with a stained-glass window and a large iron handle. It wasn’t nearly as old or as worn as the door that had led me here. This door appeared well maintained, not aged by the weather of time. Where did it lead? I grabbed the handle and pushed, bracing myself for what might lie beyond.

When the door swung open, it revealed a long spiraling staircase made of stone, lit by the same sparse torchlight. I gripped the iron railing and started down, down, down, into the infinite darkness.

After many long minutes of descent, the staircase came to an end on a shallow landing, with only one way forwards, another door. This door was made of stone and appeared as if it had been built into the walls itself. It seemed as if it was meant to be hidden and not easily discovered, blending into the adjacent masonry seamlessly. When I grabbed the large iron handle, it didn’t budge. I tried pushing with all my strength, but still the door did not move. Would I be stuck here, in this endless maze, forever? What lay beyond this door? Was it stuck, or was it locked?

I could feel a surge of energy deep in my core, begging to get out, begging to be released. I pressed my hand to the door again, closing my eyes in concentration. I pictured that energy traveling up my body, through my arms and out my fingertips, seeping into the cold granite stone.

“Open,” I commanded, snapping my eyes open. The door did as I commanded, swinging open to reveal what appeared to be an old laboratory of sorts. The windowless room had a large wooden table running the length of it, covered in books and beakers, herbs, and liquids. The back wall shelves were filled to the brim with bottles of different Elixirs and concoctions, ripped out pages of a spell book tacked to the wall. I ran my hand along the table as I walked the length of the room.

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