Page 7 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

It took a minute, but gradually, she brought the training mat beneath her into focus. It was made up of squares of foam rubber that created a checkerboard pattern across the training floor. “The mat.” Her head turned to the right, taking in the reception desk at the front of the building. “The trophy cabinet and reception.” Her voice sounded like gravel.

“One more,” the voice urged gently. “And keep breathing.”

Saga pushed against the mat to sit back on her heels. Her drowsy focus landed on the voice’s owner. Daniel. He wasn’t much older than her. He had kind eyes and zero body fat. How did anyone survive a London winter like that? “You.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “Good. Three things you can hear?”

Her own heartbeat in her ears, her breathing, the sound of the door locking right before Osian Goff attacked her. No. That wouldn’t do. Breathe in for five. Hold. Breathe out for six. What do you hear around you? Be present. Be in the now. What is actually here with you? Her grandmother’s grimoire, in her bag just a few feet away. No. Not yet. Be here. Her shoulders relaxed, and it was as if someone was turning a volume knob. “Tinka correcting someone’s form, other students…exerting?” Saga laughed at herself, unsure what to call the noises one made when going through sparring practice. “And what sounds like…Caspian Starr’s ‘Ah-Musing’ on the radio.”

“Good.” He placed her water bottle in front of her. “Two things you can touch.”

Saga’s entire body felt a bit like when her foot fell asleep, but she gratefully took a drink of her water. “Bottle.” She clicked her nails against it. “And mat.”

Daniel nodded. “And the one I am always terrified to ask in a gym: one thing you can smell?”

“Antibacterial spray.”

“Thank God.”

“I’m really sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Is there anything I can be doing differently?”

Saga shook her head and took another drink. Since the attack, she had been adding mint to her water for its properties of healing and aiding mental clarity. Grounding exercises were important, but a little added magic didn’t hurt. “I think it’s more an ‘only way out is through’ situation, but I appreciate it.”

Her instructor nodded thoughtfully. “Do you know where you’re losing it? Your form is good, you know the pattern, but I think when you have to apply it in the moment, you get in your head.” He held up a finger to stop her from interjecting. “I know that’s an obvious statement, but I am not talking about the trauma response, I am talking about what happens before that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You second-guess yourself. I can see the hesitation. But when we go through our drills, you have the movements down cold. So, why are you doubting?”

Because she should have been faster that day. She should have been smarter. She shouldn’t have put herself and Avery in danger. She… Saga sighed and let her head fall back. “Because I’m still blaming myself.”

“And how can you trust your own instincts when you’re still blaming yourself?” asked Daniel.

“Damn.” Saga laughed.

This was why out of every gym she’d audited, she’d chosen this one. Tinka and Daniel approached their teaching with compassion and understanding. Daniel had inherited the space from his grandfather, and while he had kept a few classes honoring its years of perfecting the Muay Thai tradition, his focus had shifted to self-defense that pulled from multiple disciplines. When Tinka and Daniel were teaching the women’s self-defense class, they understood that the students wouldn’t only be women taking preventive measures, but also those determined to prevent something from happening again.

“Do you want to go again then?”

“Please.”

“You’re getting better,” Daniel reassured, helping her stand. “It’s hard to see now, but you’ve improved a lot in the past two weeks. You just need to stop fighting yourself.”

He didn’t know the half of it. “Then come at me and give me something else to fight.” Saga bounced on the balls of her feet, bringing her hands up in their defensive stance.

“I’m going for your neck again,” Daniel forewarned.

“I’d like to see you try,” Saga joked as if she hadn’t been battling a panic attack on the floor just moments prior.

Daniel took one slow controlled breath. It always reminded Saga of a theater kid taking a moment before entering a scene. Then he lunged.

She took it for what it was this time: his hands settling on either side of her neck but posing no actual threat. As taught, Saga raised her forearms between his and struck outward, breaking his grasp and giving her the opportunity to kick his groin.

Thank God the poor man wore a cup.

“Much better, much, much better!” He glanced at the clock. “Do you want to run that as a drill with me for the last five?”