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“Do you know why it’s a special bucket?” I don’t wait for him to answer, because he’d never bothered to ask. “It’s the bucket I used to scry to speak to Delilah when she and the others were trapped in a well.”
His eyes widen, but I keep talking. “It carried the water that Delilah used to help lead us to where they were being held prisoner, where many of them had already died, so that we could dig them out of the ground.”
Aspen’s brows pinch together. “You were able to scry?”
Of course, that’s what he’d latch onto. “Yes, using that bucket. If it had been a more conventional bowl designed for scrying, would you have accorded it the significance it deserves? Is a witchy aesthetic more important to you than a tool that’s forged a genuine connection, even if that tool happens to be a bucket decorated with puffy paint?”
Something close to shame crosses Aspen’s face. “The connection always outweighs the appearance.”
I exhale, my shoulders slumping with fatigue at having this conversation with Aspen again. “I fear that our differences are too insurmountable for you to be an effective teacher. Both for me and for my coven.”
I turn my head away to stare down the driveway. “Hartford Cove is a small town with small dreams. The coven here is filled with witches who were first hurt by witches like you, who didn’t think they were worth training. That’s how they ended up in the Sunlight Project. They were so desperate to find a place to belong that they walked straight into Bryant’s trap.”
Aspen takes a sharp breath.
I look back at him. “Bryant saw them, not as people, but as a means to gain magical blood. And you don’t see any of us as people, either. You see us as notches on your magic belt toward the next step up in your rise to power. We don’t need someone like you. We need a teacher who will help us practice our magic quietly and build a haven where we can exist without fear.”
Aspen rakes a shaky hand through his hair. “May I be granted one more chance to show that I can be the teacher you all need?”
“Why should I give you that?” I shake my head. “I told you what we needed when you first arrived. I warned you, but you ignored me. Why should I think you’re capable of change?”
“Yesterday was a low point for me. I’m not used to failing.” His eyes meet mine. “You’re right that I cherry-picked witches to train. I chose the ones with talent so that their success would make me look better. I forgot what it was like when I first started training, how much I questioned my teachers. I lost that spark somewhere along the way.”
If I had to guess, he lost it when he cut Mel out of his life.
“But yesterday was eye opening,” Aspen continues. “Let me try one more time to help you find your magic by starting with your wand.”
I don’t really want to go through that whole experience again, but his earnest expression cracks my defenses, and I find myself holding up a finger. “One more chance. That’s it.”
Relief relaxes his features, and he eagerly steps back toward the stairs. “Get your shoes on and come with me. Our time to do this is limited.”
Confused, I go back inside and find Haut already there with my shoes, while Owen leans against the stairs, attempting to look casual. I take my shoes from Haut and walk to the formal living room, where I find Tris and Ros casually straightening the small space.
I shake my head. “Don’t pretend you weren’t listening at the window.”
Tris steps forward. “I’m going with you.”
I don’t argue. I may be giving Aspen one more chance, but there’s still a killer we haven’t uncovered, and if it’s a witch, Aspen is my number one suspect as the villain.
With my shoes on, Tris and I step out onto the porch.
Aspen now stands at the back of his sports car in the driveway, its trunk open and what looks like branches sticking out of it. With a grunt, he heaves two potted trees out onto the driveway.
Next, he reaches into the trunk and pulls out a long duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
A warm smile spreads over his lips. “Oh, good. Tris, can you help carry one of the trees?”
“Don’t you think we have enough trees around here?” Bemused, Tris jogs down the steps and hefts one of the large pots into his arms. “What do we need these for?”
Aspen’s eyes twinkle with excitement. “We’re going to help some magic along down at the beach.”
I balk at his suggestion. The beach and I are still on the outs since I almost died down there.
Tris jerks his head toward me in a come-on gesture. “Don’t worry, sparky. I’ll protect you from the evil ocean, even if I have to sit on you again.”
Aspen’s brows lift. “Why do you think the ocean is evil?”
I glance at the vast, churning expanse of water just past the dunes. “There are fish in the ocean that eat people.”
