Page 39 of Magic Touch
Shaking my head, I put my empty teacup down. “I would never use any of those spells. Not in this lifetime nor in the next.”
Her lips twitch. “Then we shall make a good fire under the new moon and rid your family of its burden.”
As the sun wanes in the west, we light the fire in the yard.
Simon sits watching from the porch with Anna and Samuel.
“Henry, you need not be here. We’re only burning a book.” I attempt to lighten the grim mood.
“The fact that you feel the need to burn this particular book out of doors with some ritual is reason enough for me to remain close.” He cocks a brow. “With your permission, sir.”
I laugh. “Of course. Stay if it pleases you.”
As soon as the sun leaves none of its light behind, Esme hands me the book. “As we practiced, William.”
I stare at the fire, take a long breath, and clutch the old leather. “Guided by not even the moon, I send this evil tome to ash. With salt and Goddess blessing to see, as I will, so mote it be.”
I hurl the book into the fire.
Flame as red as blood flashes straight up in a rush that throws me backward and off my feet. The ground knocks the breath from me.
Esme holds on to Prudence, keeping them both on their feet.
Offering his hand, Henry helps me up. “Was that supposed to happen?”
I shrug and caution closer to the column of unnatural fire. “With my will unscathed. I pray the light. I seek Goddess’s will. I abolish the dark’s plight. My test is complete.”
The fire recedes as if doused. A heaviness lifts from my mind and my heart. It feels as if the old hidden book had shrouded me all my life, and now it is gone, and I am free.
As I look across at Esme, my heart is light and full of something I dare not name.
She offers her smile, and it fills my heart with joy.
Time seems to move more slowly in the country. It’s been over a week since we burned that old book, but it feels like months.
As I concentrate on the wick of a white tapered candle, the flame flickers in my mind. It's small and soft, can only light the wick, not set the room aflame.
I have to push aside the memory of nearly burning the stillroom to ash. If Esme wasn't ready with a water spell, we would have perished.
Refocusing, I only see the wick. The stillroom fades from my peripheral vision. Esme's breathing and even her words of instruction shift to nothing. I see the wick. I see the flame. I breathe and flick my fingers lightly toward it.
The wick lights.
As I hold my breath, the room comes back into focus.
I blink. "I did it?"
"You did it." Esme's voice is full of pride.
Turning, I pull her into an embrace and lift her from her feet.
We've hardly touched since the night we made love. I've waited for some sign that she wishes me to return to her bed, but she's been all business ever since. The most wonderful night of my life had little effect on her, it seems.
As I lower her, our noses nearly touch.
Passion lights her eyes but dims a moment later. Her smile fades, and she pushes against my forearms. "I'm proud of you. That was well done."
Releasing her, I move back. "Thank you."
