Page 40 of Witches of Dubious Origin
“Tomorrow, we start your magical training. Miles will teach you magical theory and safety protocols, Tariq potions, Jasper energy manipulation, and I will cover the basic spells.” She spun on her heel and with a wave of her arm, the door opened, she stepped through it, and it slammed shut after her.
I had to give it to her; it was an impressive exit.
• • •
Having managed to float Freya and myself without any particular effort, I thought learning to use my magic would be like cleaning out a closet. Open boxes, sort the contents, and learn how to use things I’d shoved to the back. It was nothing like that.
Potentially, it was my nerves, but I found I couldn’t concentrate when someone—Olive—was watching me. Frankly, I had performance anxiety.
“Again, Ziakas,” Olive ordered. We were standing in her office, which was as austere as her wardrobe. The furniture was black leather; the bookcases were oak stained a deep walnut brown. There were no art pieces or photos. In fact, it felt exactly like a dark version of my own home. I would have thought this would make me comfortable. It did not.
“I can feel the magic in you, Ziakas.” Olive frowned. She was holding a blue orb of light in her palm. She’d been trying to teach me how to create a ball of light for more than an hour. I was tired, hungry, and grumpy. “This is the most basic of spells. Children are taught this before their third birthday. We’ve been at this for days. Why are you struggling?”
“If I knew the answer to that, I likely wouldn’t be struggling,” I said. She closed her fist and the light orb disappeared into nothing.
“Cup your hands together as if you’re packing a snowball.” She demonstrated the position, and I mirrored her.
“Relax your shoulders; you can’t call the craft if you’re tense.”
“I’m always tense.”
She ignored me. “Close your eyes. Picture the light you want to manifest, imagine it filling your palms.”
I did as I was told. I felt the warmth inside me answer my call. I could feel the magic shoot down my arms and into my hands. I kept the vision of the light orb firmly in my mind. I was certain that this time I’d nailed it. I opened my eyes and unclasped my hands. A squiggle of light the size of apolliwog wriggled off my palm, did two loop the loops, and shot straight up to the ceiling, where it disappeared with a splat.
Olive heaved a beleaguered sigh while I stared at the ceiling, wondering what I’d done wrong.
“Ahem.” Miles stood in the open doorway. He’d clearly seen the whole thing. “Sorry to interrupt, but Zoe is due for her magical theory lesson.”
“Take her. She is beyond my help.” Olive dismissed me with a wave of her long-fingered hand.
“Olive.” Miles’s tone was chiding, but she turned her back on us. As I watched, she held out her arms and suddenly Sir Napsalot appeared, hanging on her like she was a tree. Clearly, she felt she needed his calming influence. I scuttled out of her room, feeling like an utter failure.
“Don’t take Olive’s words to heart,” Miles said as we strode down the hallway to his workspace.
“I’m not, but even I know she isn’t wrong,” I said. “I can feel the pull of the magic. I know it’s in me, but I can’t get it to manifest the way I want.”
“You’re potentially blocked by the vow you made to your mother. You’ve carried it for over two decades. That’s not something that can be set aside by a few classes,” Miles said. “Perhaps our sessions on magical theory will help you embrace your heritage.”
“Maybe, but I’m concerned that I’m not working on decrypting the grimoire as much as I should be,” I fretted.
“A better understanding of exactly what witchcraft and magic are might give you some insights.”
I nodded. Truthfully, the two lessons I enjoyed most during the day were magical theory with Miles and potion makingwith Tariq. Olive was simply terrifying, and Jasper—well, energy manipulation required a lot of focus, which was nearly impossible with him in my orbit.
Miles’s office was cluttered much like Agatha’s house, which was likely why I felt at home there. I had to clear a stack of books off one of the armchairs in order to sit while he conjured a silver carafe of hot coffee with a mismatched sugar bowl, a pitcher of milk, and two mugs.
I looked at him in question and asked, “Any chance you can manifest a chocolate bar?”
He smiled. “The carafe only makes coffee—tea if it’s sulking—but that’s it.”
“Another magical object.”
“They’re everywhere; most people just don’t recognize them.”
“How do they exist?” I asked.
“A witch or mage bespells them,” he answered.
