“Yes and no. All witches are born with magic in our blood, we also have natural gifts for different kinds of magic. It takes a lot of practice to unearth our unique talents and hone them into something useful.”
Something that helps rather than harms.
At that thought, my gut tightened, a low murmur of magic humming inside me.
“So, everything you’ve done so far was just an accident?” he asked.
“Kind of? I mean, I was learning things as a kid, but the—” I still couldn’t bring myself to saynecromancy, so I opted for Liam’s much less offensive term instead—“the Shadowborn stuff is new to me. I guess it’s kind of like that whole sex-vibe you’ve got. It’s an inherent part of you, right? But you still had to learn how to control it.”
Asher’s normally cocky grin grew into a full-on laugh. “Excuse me, but…sex vibe? Really?”
Oh, hell. I didnotmean to take us down this road.
“I’m paraphrasing!” I said. “I’m talking about your… whatever you call it. Your magnetic… force… thingy. The one that erases women’s brains so they’ll throw themselves at you.”
“That’s not magic, Cupcake. That’s just my natural charm.” He grinned, taking a little more pleasure in my awkward discomfort before finally moving on. “Can’t you just write some new spells?”
“It’s not that simple. A spell is just part of the equation. Controlling magic is largely about intent. The words and ingredients in a spell can help focus that intent and amplify its effects, but that’s all.”
I paged through the book, settling on a section on the properties of crystals.
Smoky quartz is a good grounding stone,I’d written.Apophyllite helps with my tarot readings. Calla says it opens up the channels to allow me to receive messages more clearly. I’m not sure what the amethyst does, but it’s purple, so I automatically love it.
I smiled at my younger self. Like most witches’ books of shadows, mine was equal parts spellbook, scrapbook, workbook, and diary. Every page was wrinkled with age, indented from the frantic scribbles of a teen witch who’d embraced hyperbole and melodrama as if they were long lost sisters.
Some of it was insightful and interesting. Some of it was downright mortifying. But all of it was mine. Part of me. Part of who I was, who I became, who I was still in the process of becoming.
It was a time machine, simultaneously bringing me back to my yesterdays and launching me into my tomorrows.
I couldn’t believe I’d left it buried for so long.
“Okay, now I’m totally confused,” Asher said. “If it’s mostly about intent, why do you need spells at all?”
“I don’tneedspells,” I explained. “But a witch’s book of shadows is deeply personal, and that in itself is magic. There’s a little bit of my soul in here, and reconnecting with that will only strengthen my magic, waking up the parts I put to sleep. It’ll make me a better witch, Ash.”
I didn’t want to say the rest, and fortunately, Asher didn’t push. I had a feeling he already knew what I was thinking, anyway.
Reconnecting with my magic, tapping into that power—it would make me a more attractive target for the hunter. That’s what this was all about now. Saving the other witches and making that vile man pay for what he’d done to Sophie. For what his father had done to my mother. For what their family—their kind—had done to the entire trajectory of my life.
“What about the whole personal gain thing?” Asher asked, peeking at a prosperity spell I’d flipped to.
“Urban legend perpetuated by TV.”
“Seriously?”
“There’s nothing inherently wrong with using magic to make your life better—that’s kind of the whole point. The thing we have to remember is that magic has consequences, and they’re not always predictable.” I considered him a moment, wondering again about his past. About what his life had been like before he’d come crashing back into mine. “I take it you don’t know a lot of witches?”
Asher shook his head.
“Not even from… before?”
“Before I became a big scary incubus?” He wriggled his eyebrows in jest, but it was too late—I’d already seen the flash of hurt in his eyes.
I lowered my gaze, unable to bear the intensity of his. “You’re not that scary, you know. Especially after a little soap and water. A few more showers, and who knows? Maybe one day you’ll be a real boy again.”
I’d meant it as a joke, but Asher didn’t find it funny at all.
“I’m not like your loverboy, Ronan,” he snapped. “I was never human, Gray. I wasbornthis way. Throw me in a tub of boiling water and bleach and set my ass on fire, and guess what? There’s still no changing what I am. Sorry if that bothers you.”
