Page 19 of The Witch's Heart
Claim it,I hear a voice in my head say.Claim it and it’s yours.
"Estelle?"
Keep going. Claim your power. Tell it what you want.
“It’s not working,” I say. “Last night—”
Last night you had my help. I can’t come now. But you can do this on your own.
I don't know what she means, but I send out my prayer like a life raft into a tumultuous sea threatening to swallow us all.
And then I feel something waking up inside of me, like a flower blossoming and releasing a glittery kind of energy into my bloodstream.
I open my eyes and look down to see my skin blinking with silver sparkles, like stars shining across my body. As I watch, light pools at my fingertips and into the metal bars I'm still holding.
And then the lock clicks and the door swings open.
My eyes widen and I hear a soft laugh in my mind.
You did it.
I knew you could.
I knew you were the one.
I don't stop to question myself, or the voices. Instead, I grab the bars of his cell, pushing my power into them, and they unlock and swing open just like mine did.
I run straight to Declan, whose moans have faded into gasps as his body twitches on the ground.
Kneeling on the ground, I pull him to my lap. "Declan, I'm here. You're not alone. I'm here."
I don't know what else I can do but hold him and send this silver light I have into his body. I caress his hair, and his eyes flicker open, catching my gaze with his as his form slowly begins to settle into pure human again.
Sweat beads his forehead, and his skin is on fire. I cool him as best I can with my icy hands, selfishly enjoying the heat emanating from him as I do.
While I cool him, he warms me.
“Tell me what your life should look like now if you weren’t here,” I say, holding him as his breathing starts to settle.
“What?” His voice is raspy, but there’s less strain.
“Tell me about your life. What it would look like right now.” My voice is barely more than a whisper, as if talking about life outside of these walls already feels taboo and dangerous.
Declan sighs and leans into me. “Dean and I have always dreamed about starting our own bakery.” He glances up at me, waiting.
“I love bakeries,” I say.
He looks relieved by my response. “Dean is the genius at recipes. I’m more on the business side though I can bake any recipe you give me. We planned to settle down, start our shop, make a life for ourselves.”
“Don’t give up on that dream,” I say, as his body finally relaxes into its human shape and he sits up.“Dreams are dangerous currency in this place.” His expression still bears traces of pain, but when he finally smiles, I melt a little inside. I tell myself it’s the satisfaction I feel at seeing the darkness in his eyes chased away, but the flutter in my stomach says it could be more. Being this close to him, I see details I couldn't from across the hall. Like his dimpled chin and flecks of gold in his green eyes.
"Told ya," he says.
"Told me what?" I ask, my hands still on his, our bodies so close I can feel the energy coming off him in waves.
"You're a witch. And a powerful one by the looks of it."
I glance at our cell doors, both wide open. "Did I really do that? Or am I still sleeping? Or hallucinating? I can't…" my voice breaks. "I can't tell what's real anymore," I confess, voicing my fear aloud for the first time.
