Callie grins, the expression taking over her entire face. “I really did.”
For too long I stare into her eyes, content to get lost in them and all they have to tell me. Her gaze drops, another blush settling across her cheeks, and I become too aware of the feel of her in my arms, the trapped body heat between us, and the way our breaths have synced, each inhalation pressing us tighter together.
I clear my throat, lean down, and gently place her on her feet.
Turning to look out at the skyline, she puts her hands behind her back, her fingers twisting together. “Where are we?”
I take a step away, flattening my wings tight against my back, and smile gently at her. The one designed to put people at ease.
“This is where my parents taught me to fly when I was little,” I share, then point to a large fir tree behind us. “I actually broke my arm when I was five running into that tree-- I was chasing after a Western Tanager and didn’t notice the branches.”
She giggles, covering her mouth with both hands. “How did you not notice the branches?”
“I was a kid and the bird was brightly colored,” I answer with a shrug. “Seems I’ve always been prone to tunnel vision.”
Callie shifts so she’s once again standing next to me and bumps my arm with her shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with being dedicated and focused.”
“As long as I don’t miss the forest for the trees?” I chuckle with a light bump back.
“More like the branches for the tree,” she teases.
We’re both quiet for a moment, simply existing in the stillness of the night far away from the demands of our lives below.
It’s only when Callie shivers, rubbing her arms, that she pokes me in the side and grumbles, “How are you shirtless and not cold?”
“Well, there was the workout I just had doing flips and stuff in the air while holding a roughly hundred-pound girl in my arms. That can generate some body heat,” I reply, opening my arms to invite her to share my warmth.
“I’m a hundred and ten pounds, thank you very much,” she mutters, snuggling in close. “Remind me if we do this again to wear my leather jacket. Up here, I might as well be wearing tissue paper.”
I can’t help the smile that skates across my lips at the idea of doing this again. To see her laughing and cheering and know that it’s because of me. Expanding my wings, I curl them around us into a small cocoon that the breeze can’t break through.
She sighs, resting her head against my chest, with her hands hidden in her sleeves and arms around my waist. I rub her lower back, then when she groans, I slip my hands underneath her baggy sweater so I can better get at the tight muscles.
“That feels nice,” she murmurs, her face shifting until I can almost feel her lips on my skin. “I’m glad I can do this now. For years no one really touched me… well, in a good way. I don’t think I’m ready to hug random strangers or anything, but this… I like this.”
Warmth blooms within me at her words. This is all I’ve wanted for her. Safety. Peace. Happiness. I know this is only a slice of a stolen moment and that our lives will rush back in as soon as we leave this cliffside, but I feel good knowing I could give this to her.
“I like it, too,” I reply, my fingers climbing up her spine to work on the next set of knots.
“Can I tell you something?” she whispers, her tone having the fragile quality of a confession.
I swallow heavily and nod, pulling one hand out from under her sweater to cradle the back of her head.Back to serious conversations.
“You can tell me anything,” I murmur into her hair.
Her fingers slide from her sleeves and press into my back. “I’m scared.”
“Of who started the fire? One of us could stay with you or you could stay with one of us if it’d make you feel safer.” I wince remembering this afternoon. “I wouldn’t recommend staying with Connor, but Nolan’s or my house would be fine.”
She shakes her head, her face now fully pressed against my bare chest, and I can feel the words that pour from her lips, “I’m scared of myself. Every day, it feels like I learn something new about what I am, and it just keeps upping the scale of destruction I can unleash.” She releases a shuddering breath. “I have nightmares about it now-- and my nightmares already sucked; I didn’t need new ones.”
“What do you mean ‘destruction you can unleash’?” I question, making sure my voice stays even and soothing.
“Right, you don’t know. I really need to start a newsletter,” she laughs wetly. “Short version, I may be called a witch, but I have power close to what people consider god-like. Think old-testament-- can create life or destroy it based on whatever I feel like. I don’t want to die, but I kind of get where the council is coming from. Even now with zero control of my power, I risk blowing up the town. No one should have this kind of power.”
I close my eyes and press my lips to the top of her head, honestly not surprised to learn the scope of her power. As beings meant to rule over the world and force balance when needed, spirit witches would have to be powerful beyond measure.
“Columba mea,” I whisper, the pet name slipping from my lips without thought, “You can’t control what you were born as, but that doesn’t mean you should fear it. Spirit witches wouldn’t have been created if they weren’t needed. You have a purpose, but also a choice on how you use your magic.”
