Page 9 of Of Poison & Pumpkins
“I have plans tonight,” I say.
“I know. You have plans with me.” Elias chuckles adorably and bumps his hip against mine. “You wouldn’t turn me down.”
All my reasons for denying him pop clearly into focus. It’s impossible for someone to be this cocky. Did he sleep with a supermodel to get this confident?
“You’re so …”
“Hopeful?” Elias smiles. “Lucky to have found you? I agree.”
I cross my arms tightly as the council leader holds up the traditional bowl of stones, all representing spells chosen last month. One at a time, the Fuzers step up to the front and slash their palms, enabling the magic from the past month to drain the last spell from their veins. They each pick a new stone, then select a fresh magical spell. After the Nergs grant permission, the magical power fuzes into our blood until next month.
“I hate that we’re turned into a show,” I mumble to Elias. “We should be able to perform our rituals without an audience.”
“Yeah, but I get it. The Nergs want that feeling of control.”
“Our magic is personal. We shouldn’t have to declare what spell we use.”
Elias faces me, serious for once. “True. But if the roles were reversed, would you feel safe being someone without magic, knowing a bunch of Fuzers had an unknown strength?” He nods toward the stages. “This way, at least they feel a sense of security.”
“Who’s side are you on?” I grit my teeth.
“There doesn’t have to be sides,” Elias says.
“Alice Allers,” the leader calls and the owner of a flower shop in Northern Oakmar steps forward.
To save everyone’s time, she moves with fluid swiftness. Blood splatters on her stone and a new symbol is etched into the surface. If anyone else were standing next to me, I’d be calm and relaxed while awaiting my turn. However, every nerve in my body is tense, anticipating Elias’s next move.
“Alice chose to magically maintain the ideal temperature for her roses to thrive,” the leader announces. “So, this is the time to go to Alice’s for roses in case anyone’s getting married soon ... okay, next is Bailey Barnes.”
They fly through the list with ease. Elias has stayed uncharacteristically quiet. When he shifts his stance and accidentally bumps against me, jolts of electricity surge through me, like I’m being awoken from a violent dream. There’s no rational reason to react this intensely.
I need to focus on anything other than his all-consuming presence. On stage, an author casts a spell to type without having to move her hands. Then, a notable gym rat chooses the ‘most insane pump-up music to follow him around at the gym without using a phone.’ Next, a businesswoman I’ve never met casts a spell to wake up on time without snoozing an alarm. A college student from out of town asks to not experience hangovers. The last one I hear is a dog walker who picks the ability for the dogs’ poop to clean up itself.
“They called your name, Miss Pozinne,” Bob says and points to the front of the crowd.
All of a sudden, I realize how silent the crowd is. I pivot slowly. Every eye on me … curious … watching.
I make it to the front stage without tripping on my heels. Selecting a cool, smooth stone, I place it in my hand, then grab a fresh knife from the unused pile and slash my palm across the scarred line. Blood trickles down my wrist and I stare at the crimson flow. My last spell whooshes out of my body like I’m attacked by a gust of wind.
Emptiness follows. Then comes the short period when magic ceases to exist, when I feel like I’m suffocating and want to curl into a ball on the street. There’s no chance I could live for an entire month without a spell running through my veins. With eyes locked on Elias, I open my mouth to declare my selection.
“I choose the magical ability to mix purple paint for all my business needs.”
Since I’ve asked for the same spell for years, it’s no surprise that the Nergs approve it. Little do they know I carefully word my request so all my businesses are covered, even illegal ones.
Once my turn is complete, I breathe out a needed sigh and make my way through the crowd. My phone vibrates in my pocket, because yes, this terrible dress has amazing pockets. The screen shows my brother’s face, but I ignore the call. Orion always calls on Ceremony night. Which is ironic, because for the years I participated in them while living at home, my family didn’t support me. It was naïve of me to ever expect them to ask what it was like to have magic, or how it felt to be gawked at while standing on stage, or to question every friendship, waiting for when a Nergs would use me for magical enhancements.
Elias clips to my side like a magnet, and starts asking questions about my life.
Ten years ago, I’d be honored to be the center of his attention, but now, it’s confusing as shit. Why does he have his sights set on me?
“Did you know I’m also afraid of anything sticky?” Elias continues to ramble nonsense. “Yeah, I had an intensely traumatic event. I can’t be anywhere near peanut butter, playdoh, stickers, honey, syrup, jelly, birch sap, glue, tape, or tree frogs.”
“Tree frogs?” I glance up at him, understanding settling deep in my bones that he’s trying to get me to relax.
“Don’t ever offer me a tree frog, Rynnlee, or gum, or a particularly gooey booger, unless you’d like to witness a severe panic attack.”
I honestly can’t tell if he’s joking.
