Page 61 of Magic in the Woods
“The sand—it’s too soft to push off of,” Brooke whispered.
Petunia, finding purchase on a large rock that hovered just above the sand, regained our attention. I could see the white teeth of her smile from across the cavern.
She was the only one smiling.
We watched as she kneeled on the rock, leaning over the side, sticking both of her hands into the sand. She stuck her tongue out between her teeth in concentration as she stared at her hidden hands. Only when we heard the screams of the witches on the floor did she look up, the smile back on her face.
The witches on the floor were sinking, being drawn beneath the sand by some invisible force. Sand blew up around them from where they tried to use their air magic, trying to raise themselves up to escape the pull of the sand.
“They’re all sinking!” I yelled, looking around for a way off the bleachers. Maybe I could help them, make the sand wet so their air magic would have a more solid place to land.
Brooke grabbed hold of my arm, steadying me.
Once again, this task wasn’t fair. The witches couldn’t use their air magic in the sand and Petunia was up to something. I just knew it. I wanted to do something, anything besides just standing here. There was nowhere to go. I was trapped in the middle of the bleachers, surrounded by witches. My fingernails pushed through the skin on my palms. I’d have to push and climb over them to get to the floor.
“Look at the wall!” Brooke pointed at the wall of the cavern she had tried to make her way through several days ago. Sandbubbled up, breaking the surface. It looked like boiling water. “She’s made an air current beneath the surface. The sand is moving so quickly below, it’s created something like quicksand…”
We could do nothing but watch as the witches on the floor fought and clawed against the current, trying to keep their bodies from sinking.
The instant Petunia pulled her hands from the sand, the witches stopped sinking. Her steps were quick as she bounded across the now still sand, dodging the heads and shoulders of the witches trapped. She stopped at a group of ten witches who’d been clumped together, pushed next to one another by the quicksand, their hair and faces brushing against each other’s on the surface.
Petunia looked back at the stage, checking to see if Robinson and Gideon were watching before she placed a foot on a witch’s head, then, like balancing on lily pads, she stepped on the next head and the next until she was in the middle of the group. The witches winced, and their faces scrunched with the pain of holding her weight and the heel of her boot.
Pointing her index and middle fingers at the tops of the witches’ heads, she blew a gust of wind down at them, the ten of them a solid surface to propel her upward. They cried out from the wind that whipped their hair and pushed them further into the sand. She floated up steadily, touching the ceiling before lowering herself back down onto the ground.
Robinson was standing on the stage, clapping, his mustache curved up, following the smile on his lips. “We have a winner!”
Petunia made her way to the stage, walking around the sunken witches, sand kicking up from the back of her boots. She didn’t look at the crowd who were politely clapping or at Robinson, who was beaming at her through his beady eyes. Her gaze pointed directly at Gideon.
Climbing up on the stage, she walked toward where Gideon sat, bypassing Robinson, who was still smiling and clapping. She stopped, hands on her hips, in front of Gideon. With her back to the crowd, I could no longer see him. Petunia’s ringlets bobbed as her head tilted, then shook back and forth. She took a step back, looking back into the crowd, scanning the witches until her eyes landed on me. I gasped as both she and Gideon stared at me.
“Oh shit,” Brooke whispered.
“Let’s congratulate the winner!” Robinson interrupted, grabbing Petunia’s wrist from her hip and raising it above her head.
Everyone in the crowd mechanically clapped while Gideon and I continued staring at each other.
“I don’t believe anything will be able to top that performance. Let’s not wait around a few days for the water element’s evaluations. Instead, we’ll hold it tomorrow—then Gideon can choose his partner.”
“Oh shit,” Brooke said, louder this time.
Tomorrow. I’d be competing tomorrow.
I looked around at the witches Petunia had buried to further her scheme. I looked at the witches standing and clapping, that look of rage still on their faces. They needed me to help, needed me to encapsulate the anger they were feeling, mix it with my own and unleash it onto the Coven. There only needed to be a single spark for flames to erupt.
Was I ready? Probably? But I wasn’t sure what I was ready for. I refused to compete for a man. He could choose whoever he wanted, tradition or not. Gideon would have to decide he was done with the Coven’s customs and make that choice himself. If he couldn’t do that, couldn’t stand up for what was right, then he was better off choosing Petunia.
Tomorrow I wouldn’t compete for him, I’d compete forthe Academy and the witches trapped here. I’d show them I was a powerful witch and a capable leader.
The witches began to file out of the bleachers as soon as Robinson lowered Petunia’s arm. Brooke and I wove through the crowds and made our way toward the floor. The sand was as soft as it looked, and my boots sunk down in the grains.
I fell to my knees in front of one witch who was buried and began digging around her shoulders. “Help me, Brooke,” I directed.
Brooke fell to her knees next to me, and we worked on digging out the witch’s arms. As soon as she could bring her hands to the surface, we dug in our boots and pulled her from the sand. She lay on her back, catching her breath from the exertion. I waited until she sat up, and she nodded at me signaling she was okay before moving onto the next buried witch, digging in the sand to free her hands.
A cloud of sand bloomed to my right as knees covered in dark-green pants hit the ground and large hands began digging, helping free the witch I was digging up.
Gideon.
