“Close your eyes and ground yourself,” I announce, rising to my feet and steadying my breath. It won’t do to let her see how unmoored I’ve become. “Clear your mind and prepare for the lesson.”
“But—”
“We’re losing the light, Miss Bonnivarde, not to mention my patience. You were late as it is, and we’ve already diverted too much time to pointless digressions. If you can’t follow simple instructions, we’re not going to get very far in this endeavor.”
Because if you keep looking at me like that, I’ll have no choice but to kiss you… and ruin us both.
nine
LIZZY
I ground. I center. I breathe.
I donot, despite a desperate urge to do so, puke. But only because of the muffins; they were too freaking good to yack up in the grass.
So now I’m just standing here like an Instagram yogi whilst trying not to literally die from mortification. Everything inside me burns with shame.
And yet… I’m also turned on?
Apparently Ilikebeing scolded by stern British man-demons from the nineteenth century.
Wow. If only I could afford therapy. Just think of how normal and well-adjusted I could be!
“I think you’re ready now,” the professor says, almost kindly, and when I open my eyes, he’s shifting back and forth on his feet, avoiding eye contact, wearing a grimace that’s probably supposed to be a smile.
Speaking of needing therapy!
Okay, so he’s not mad at me. He’s just a Very Socially Awkward Demon. That’s my official diagnosis. Who would’ve thought that was even a thing? Well. If it helps me avoid dealing with myowninterpersonal failings, I’mmakingit a thing.
“We’ve returned to the cemetery today,” the VSAD continues, still not making eye contact, “because I have a theory about your innate powers that I’d like to test. I thought if we could connect more deeply with the origin of your magical lineage—the resting places of your ancestors and the woods in which magic was first bestowed upon them—we could more easily stimulate those powers and conduct our experiments. Are you comfortable with that?”
“Absolutely.” I smile at him. A real, non-awkward one. Lead by example, and all. “Consider me grounded, centered, and ready to be stimulated.”
“You… right. Exactly. As I was saying… I thought… Sorry.” He clears his throat and pushes up his glasses, glancing around as if he just woke up from a decades long coma and is all confused because no one’s wearing middle parts and skinny jeans anymore. “Where were we, again?”
God, it’s fun to mess with him.
“The innate powers thing, Dr. Sutherland.”
“Ah! Yes. Thank you. Innate powers.” He claps once, like,here we go!and I guess that’s his teacher-mode power move, because the change comes over him at once. Confidence suddenly animates his face, and he paces back and forth, gesturing with his hands. “Your core magic comes from the demonic realm—think of it like a battery that powers all your spells. Other witches have different kinds of batteries—elemental magic, storm magic, blood, the moon, the sun. The sources are nearly infinite. Some witches can even access multiple sources.”
“Which they can then channel to summon and bind demons, even if their source isn’t demonic. Like you were saying last night.”
“Exactly.”
“So where does the innate stuff come into the mix?”
“That is the specific and most naturalexpressionof a witch’s magic. You see, Miss Bonnivarde, many magical workings can be learned and accomplished through general spellcraft, powered by each witch’s own magical source. But a witch is also born with a unique signature power that she can hone and strengthen above all else. One that she will always excel at, and this power will inform all of her other magical acts in perpetuity. Think psychic abilities, telepathy, telekinesis, divination, animal communications, dark magic… the list goes on.”
“Ooh! What’s mine?” My stomach bubbles with new anticipation. “Can I fly? Or turn invisible? Wait, no… Let’s curse my ex with incurable hemorrhoids and perpetual erectile dysfunction.Exceptfor when Kenny G comes on his Spotify. Then, I want him to get a massive hard-on that lasts for two days straight with no relief.”
“What on earth…?” He stops pacing. Crosses his arms. Does the stern-professor glare. “How much of Oliver’s little gift have you already imbibed?”
“Irrelevant! He’s obsessed with Kenny G! None of his friends even know. He swore me to secrecy. It’s fiendish, Dr. Sutherland. He deserves to be punished.”
“And we are moving on.”
“Fine,” I huff. “Assuming it’snotrelated to the fine art of genital cursework, which is a total bummer, whatismy innate power?”
