Page 59 of Her Dreadful Will
“I have a stuffed owl from when I was a kid. You’d cut a piece off that and smash it into your hyacle?”
“I try not to be destructive,” she said haughtily. “A few threads would do, if I could get my hands on the object. An earring or another piece of jewelry would work. I’ve even used a dollar bill before—shredded it up, mixed it right in. People treasure their money.”
“Clever girl.”
Soleil’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Then I’d need to know where you live, so I could get the Touch of Nature and the Charmed Essence. Although I suppose your workplace location would do, in a pinch.”
“How convenient for you that I live where I work,” he said. “I have an apartment above the dental clinic.”
Soleil tucked away that bit of information for later. “So I’d get some plants or earth from the land you tread every day. And then I’d need bodily fluid—saliva, or blood—or other kinds of fluids—”
“What kind of other fluids exactly?” His eyes twinkled at her.
“You know what other kinds.” She couldn’t help smirking back. “In your case I’d use water from your home, tinctured with marigold or bay leaf for psychic power, or dried cornflower for divination. Once I have everything, I grind it up, coat it, and create the hyacle using glass or resin. Glass is better for clarity. After the orb is made, it sits out in the sun for a while to charge.”
The recitation of the familiar ingredients and methods had settled her spirit—which was probably what Achan intended all along. She couldn’t help thinking about how he had calmed Carebear on the trail.
“Have you ever used your magic on me?” she asked abruptly.
He looked down and picked at a bit of broken rock, his lashes dark against his pale cheekbones. “I considered it, for a second, when you were in the chair at my clinic, wearing—well, you know.”
She’d gone to his clinic braless, in a thin tank top and tiny shorts. Her cheeks flushed at the memory.
“You’re very tempting,” he said. “So yes, I thought about working a little magic to make you want me, right then. But I didn’t.”
Soleil couldn’t decide if she was angry, or grateful, or just very deeply embarrassed. Instead of sorting out the emotions, she asked, “Do you have to be touching the person or object you want to influence?”
“For certain mind effects, yes. Like with him.” He nodded to Carebear. “But the tattoos give me power and focus so I can perform other spells without physical contact. And of course I use tethers as well.”
Soleil’s arms slid from Carebear’s neck. “Wait, what? You use tethers? Do you have any active ones right now?”
Achan sighed, briefly closing his eyes as if he regretted mentioning them.
“Youdo! Naughty boy.” She gave him a glare that was only half-pretend. “You’re interfering in my townspeople’s lives.”
“Just a little. Mostly for harmless observation. Okay, and a little bit of chaos. Once you jumpstart the chaos, it grows, and you can feed off it—an endless source of energy.”
“How do you keep it from getting out of control?”
“Practice.” He grinned, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his hands. “Watch.”
He turned to the maple tree she had punched and quirked his fingers at odd angles. A dark dot formed on the tree, widening to a splotch, creeping higher and spreading even as its center burst with yellow foam and white fungus. The tree’s lower branches turned a mottled charcoal and white, sickly and sour, while the leaves shriveled into crispy curls, flaking down to the stony earth. The bog oak ring around Soleil’s finger pulsed, picking up the agony of the maple and siphoning it into Soleil.
“Stop!” she cried. “You’re hurting it.”
With a glance her way, he swiveled his wrist and closed his hand. The tree’s limbs reverted to healthy gray-brown, pushing out fresh leaves, and the corruption shrank, sucking in on itself like a black hole until it vanished.
Soleil laid a palm to the tree, her bog oak ring pressing against its bark. The rot was gone, and the trunk was whole, but all was not well.
“It still remembers the pain,” she said.
“An unfortunate side effect.”
“And you do this topeople?”
“Mostly to things. To people, only if they deserve it.” The unrepentant gleam in his eyes fascinated Soleil almost as much as it scared her.
She’d thought about using her mind-flex power to punish people—or rather, to force them to punish themselves. In fact, she’d done it once, with consequences so terrible she vowed never to do it again. She nearly broke that vow in fifth grade, when a friend whispered about the things her cousin had made her do in the closet at the family reunion. But Soleil hadn’t been able to find out the cousin’s name, or where he lived. The most she could do was tweak the will of her friend’s mother—awaken a suspicion, give her the strength of will to pursue the truth. The family had moved away shortly afterward and Soleil never found out what happened.
