Tests and Assignments

TESTS AND ASSIGNMENTS

A s I arrive at the community center the next morning, I shiver from the cold. It snowed again last night. Only a light dusting, but not having a car will get old once the snow gets bad.

If not for Aspen, I’d still be snuggled up under my warm blanket. But no, he had wanted to hit the ground running with the Hutchen brothers, starting with a demonstration on the Grim Project.

Good times.

I pause outside the door, inhaling deeply to gather my nerves.

Steeling myself, I push open the door.

Aspen glances up from where he sits at a table with the council members and gives me an encouraging nod. “Excellent. You’re right on time.”

Gael lifts his hand in greeting, like we’re BFFs now that he’s stood on my roof, while his brothers stare at me like a bug under a magnifying glass.

Aspen gestures for me to approach. “Don’t be nervous.”

“Why would I be nervous?” I take in the projection screen set up at the front. I didn’t know we had one of those. “No Mel today?”

Aspen smiles. “I thought it might be easier for you with a smaller audience.”

“You have so many interesting thoughts of late.” I spot my laptop and slide it over to an empty seat across from them. “How do you find the time to make every single one of them happen?”

Gael’s lips twitch before he smooths his expression.

Aspen’s smile tightens. “I thought you might be grumpy at this early hour, so I grabbed you a peanut butter and banana milkshake from Nesse’s Diner.”

He reaches down and produces a Styrofoam cup as big as my head. Setting it on the table, he slides it over.

“Ice cream with fruit doesn’t make it a health drink,” I grumble as I take the offering .

“You have an…interesting relationship with your apprentice,” Aven observes, his face not giving away any hint of his thoughts on the subject.

“That’s me, super interesting.” I take an annoyed pull on my milkshake as I load up the Grim Project app.

“Rowe has a unique way of viewing the world that I’ve come to value. I learn as much from her as she does from me.” Aspen gestures to the projection screen. “Case in point, her idea to create an online grimoire to foster a community of open sharing within the covens.”

Aspen raises a controller, and the projector hums to life, displaying my monitor and filling the room with a soft blue glow.

Waylon stifles a snort with his hand. “Why does it say the name of the website is Free Spells for All Witches Oppressed by the Council Project ?”

“We only just settled on the official name.” I clear my throat, remembering what I practiced with Owen last night after everyone left. “Esteemed council members, what you’re about to see is the future of our craft. A digital grimoire that combines the wisdom of our ancestors with the convenience of modern technology. ”

A click on the table of contents pulls up the categorized lists of spells and potions.

Curious, Gael leans forward. At least one council member seems intrigued.

“No more sifting through dusty tomes or losing precious spells due to fire or misplacement. Or an elitist family curse,” I add on a mutter, remembering how my cousin hadn’t been able to use her Rothaven grimoire because of an adoption in the family. “With a few taps, you can access any spell, anywhere, anytime. And that’s only the beginning.”

I demonstrate the search function, the hyperlinked references, the ability to collaborate with other witches across distances.

Gael nods along, clearly vibing with what I’m putting down, but murmurs rise from his brothers.

“But what of security?” Waylon demands. “How can we ensure our secrets stay safe?”

“The Grim Project will be heavily warded,” I assure him, swiping to reveal the protective charms woven into the code. “Stronger than any physical lock. Only witches can access it.”

“And what of our traditions?” Aven frowns at the screen. “You would have us abandon centuries of sacred practices for the sake of convenience?”

I suppress the urge to snap and meet his gaze. “ This isn’t about abandoning traditions. It’s about evolving them. Adapting to the changing world, so our craft can thrive instead of wither.”

A click pulls up the sunlight spell, and I point to the screen. “The loss of this spell when my family founded Hartford Cove sparked a feud between the huntsmen and wolf shifters. Had this database existed earlier, it could have prevented sunlight poisoning, feuds, deaths, and the torture of witches decades ago.”

Gael speaks up. “I, for one, believe Rowe is onto something. Failure to embrace technology has left us behind in advancements. We must embrace innovation to continue to thrive.”

His support fills me with unwilling gratitude, but the other council members still don’t appear convinced. Doubt coils in my stomach as their skeptical stares bore into me. I clench my fists at my sides, refusing to crumple under the weight of their disapproval. I’ve come too far to back down now.

Gael turns to his brothers, his expression alight with enthusiasm. “Imagine the possibilities. No more lugging around heavy tomes, no more wasted hours flipping through pages. All our knowledge, all our spells, at our fingertips in an instant. Think of how much more we could accomplish, how many more witches we could help.”

He gestures to the projection screen. “This is the future of our craft. We can’t afford to ignore it.”

His brothers exchange doubtful glances, their brows furrowed.

Aven rubs his jaw. “What of the risks? The security concerns? We can’t entrust our sacred knowledge to untrained witches.”

Aspen straightens. “That’s where you and other council-approved graders come in. The protective charms woven into the code can be designed to recognize our council-approved credentials. Only those with the proper initiation can access approved sections. It’s safer than leaving our grimoires lying around for anyone to find.”

Waylon scoffs. “You speak of initiation, yet you would have us abandon the very rituals that define us. What’s next? Virtual circle castings? Digital scrying?”

I cut him a sharp look. “Mock all you want, but the world of witchcraft needs to change. A collaboration between witches means more knowledge for all. It’s growth in a world that’s dangerous without proper training.”

I hold my breath, watching the two dissenting council members’ faces for any sign of yielding, but their expressions remain stony.

Come on , I plead silently, my heart in my throat. See reason. See the potential.

But as the seconds tick by, I realize with sinking certainty they cannot—or will not—see beyond their own stubborn ways. My vision blurs with unshed tears of frustration, but I blink them away.

Gael leans back in his chair. “Okay, I have a proposal. What if we do a trial run of the online grimoire in a controlled environment? Allow us to test its capabilities and security functions to see if it holds up.”

“That’s a great compromise. It would give us a chance to identify any vulnerabilities and fix them.” Aspen turns to me, pleading. “Rowe, I think you should agree to this. It’s an opportunity to prove the Grim Project is viable and secure.”

Mind racing, I chew my lip. A trial run would be exposing my baby to scrutiny and possible failure. But it may be my only shot at getting the green light from the council.

“Okay, I’m in. Let’s do the trial run. But it has to be a fair test.” I glare at Waylon and Aven. “No deliberate sabotage attempts.”

Gael holds up his hands. “My brothers may be cautious, but they would never sabotage your project.”

“Fine.” I hate leaving this decision in someone else’s hands, but a test run is a good idea.

I just hope I don’t regret it.

As the discussion about how to perform the test run ends, Gael lingers behind.

“I’ve decided on your first-ring trial,” he announces. “It’s a tad unconventional, but I think that’s fitting for you.”

I arch a brow. “Oh? Do tell.”

His lips quirk. “I want you to create fulgurite.”

“Lightning glass?” I sputter. “But it’s the dead of winter! The beach is frozen, and there aren’t any storms this time of year.”

“That’s the whole point.” His eyes dance with challenge. “Aspen says you have a unique way of thinking, so show me that in action.”

My mind spins into motion. Lightning glass is only formed when lightning strikes sand, fusing and melting it into twisting tubes. But with no storms and the beach frozen solid …

“No problem.” I grab my laptop. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Not so fast.” Gael raises a hand to stop me from running off.

Sighing, I turn back to face him. “There’s more?”

“Indeed. Once you procure the fulgurite, I want you to develop a spell to recreate the process. One that other ethereal witches can follow.” His fingers drum against his thigh. “And work with three other members of your coven—not Aspen or Mel, mind you—to invent three unique spells utilizing the lightning glass.”

I gape at him. “Three spells? Do you know how much fulgurite I’ll need to experiment with? It’s not easy to make!”

“Then I suggest you produce an ample amount.” Mirth laces his tone. “You have one week. Good luck. I look forward to your results.”

Leaving me sputtering, he takes off after his brothers and Aspen.

How the hell am I supposed to pull this off? My temples throb as I shuffle out of the room, already racking my brain for ideas.

My boots crunch through the icy slush coating the sidewalk as I exit the building, cold air nipping at my cheeks. The first order of business, securing transportation.

I scan the limited option of parked vehicles lining the street, settling on the sleek black and white sheriff’s SUV.

Bingo. Haut leaves a spare set of keys behind the sun visor, the silly, silly man.

With a check of my surroundings to ensure the coast is clear, I sidle up to the driver’s side door and pop it open. I climb behind the wheel, inhaling the familiar scent of pine and rich leather that clings to Haut and has the Pavlovian effect of making me drool.

Focus, Rowe. We can climb the sheriff later.

Fishing out the keys, I rev the engine to life and head down the street to the home improvement store.

If I’m going to make fulgurite from a frozen beach, I’m going to need lightning rods and a pickaxe.