Page 30 of Magic Touch
"Should we burn it?" He looks at the fire.
Prudence nods. "It should be done in ritual fire on the new moon if you wish to rid yourself of it."
"I want no part of anything that will do harm." He pulls his shoulders back. "If it is evil, it should be destroyed."
Prudence looks at the first page, and says, "The spells in this book are not all evil, nor is the book itself. The user is where evil may lie." She points a thin finger at the page. "This spell is to make a man do one's will. This spell is forbidden by our laws as it does the man harm. Someone thought it important to keep this book for hundreds of years."
Putting the book aside, Prudence rubs a finger along her temple. "Why would your father and his fathers before him have saved this book? It was not written by Samuel and Sarina. It is far older. Yet, good witches, healers, Samuel and Serena presumably kept this, too."
A shiver runs up my spine. "The new moon is not for ten days, Great Mother. Perhaps we should use that time to learn if this has some value in the light."
Prudence's grim expression eases. "Yes. We should find out what made the Meriwether family hold onto this, despite their resolve to leave behind their magic."
Worry emanates from William in waves that I feel to the bottom of my soul. The idea of something evil in his possession torments him. "If the keeping of this book was deliberate, why didn't my father express it to me at some point? He never said you may never touch these books, but you are ordered to keep them and pass them to the next generation. In fact, he never mentioned them in any way after the day he raged at me for touching them."
"I cannot answer that," Prudence says. "Perhaps whatever we discover will tell you what you need to know."
Anne walks in with a tea tray full of treats.
My stomach growls and my cheeks heat. "I suppose we did miss luncheon."
Chapter
Nine
WILLIAM
The power coursing through my body is at once familiar and foreign. At first, the bubble of blue light seemed like something apart from me, like a being who lived inside me but separate. The longer I live with my magic, the more I realize it's an extension of me, like an arm or a leg. It was only that I didn't know to miss it until it was awakened.
Behind the cottage is a stillroom, and for the three days we've been in the country, I have met Esme there to work magic spells. It is small, and I like that she must stand close to me. Wild scents of herbs, flowers, spices, and earth fill the room. With walls full of shelves stocked with jar after jar, and a table stretching from end to end, there is barely four feet of space for two people to stand and work. One window lets in light, and we leave the door open, lest we feel trapped.
I have not repeated my confessions of deep desire for Esme, nor has she indicated any admiration for me beyond friendship.
Being near her is both pleasure and torture.
"You will work a water spell today, William." Esme hands me a bucket of water from the floor.
Holding the handle, I place it on the table. "Last time didn't go very well. Are you certain I'm ready for elemental magic?"
Her pupils dilate, and I wonder if she's recalling the intimacy that followed our drenching on the pond shore. "You have improved and have a better understanding of magic now."
"Still," I say, and scoop a fraction of the water to a bowl and return the bucket to the floor, "perhaps a smaller risk."
Just the hint of a smile appears before she raises her eyebrows. Her shoulder touches mine, and she points. "All right. Now ask just a drop of water to rise from the bowl."
A touch of shoulders while standing in such a place shouldn't arouse me, but I'm distracted by her closeness. Pushing that aside, I want to impress her. A stupid reason to wish to pull a drop of water from the bowl, but desire is important.
I focus on the bowl, then the water inside, and then each drop separates from the whole. The bowl is made up of smaller pieces. Everything around me is a kaleidoscope of infinitesimal dots making up the whole. The water shimmers in every direction, but remains in the bowl, which also shimmers.
Reaching out a hand, I call a drop of water. "From one element to the other, water to air."
A blackbird's heart beats soft and quick from the tree outside. A white rabbit scurries under some brush to hide from a hawk. I hear both of their pulses and their intent.
"Focus, William." Esme's voice brings me back to the water.
As I lift my hand, one drop rises above the rest. It shakes, as if it weighs heavy on the air.
"Now release it slowly." Her voice is soft and calm.
