A Night to Celebrate

A NIGHT TO CELEbrATE

T he day for testing arrives, and I sit in the back row, my sweaty palms gripping the rumpled spells as my heart races. The fresh scent of paint and herbs fills the air in our practice room at the community center, mingling with the nervous energy coming from the witches who wait their turn.

One by one, my fellow witches step up to face the tribunal, demonstrating their hard-earned magic.

Delilah raises stones from a barrel of packed earth with confident ease, Ambyrlynn summons water up through the same barrel, Ginny makes it fly through the air, and Tris juggles without using his hands.

Each receive nods of approval from the council witches and thumbs up from Mel and Aspen, who stand behind them. And one by one, they beam with pride as they rejoin the coven as official apprentices of the thirteenth-ring.

As the line ahead of me dwindles, pressure builds inside me like a gathering storm.

Should I have tested the spells again? Tried harder to get Aspen to summon lightning, even though he said it was too advanced for his ethereal skills?

Second-guessing every choice, I finger the crystals and charms in my box.

“Rowe Branning Wendall Rothaven.” Aven’s voice snaps me to attention. “Step forward.”

Pulse crashing like waves in my ears, I make my way to the front, red curls bouncing against my shoulders. Ros had brushed it out for me this morning and helped me pick a professional outfit when all I wanted to do was don my bunny sweatshirt as armor.

With a soft thunk, I set my box on the table where the three council members sit, meeting Aven’s piercing hazel gaze. The flecks of gold within them brighten, seeking any hint of weakness for which to judge me on.

I lift out the crystals, dangling them from their chains. “Delilah and I developed these long-distance communication crystals together.”

I set them on the table, along with the spell.

Eyebrow arching, Aven picks them up and studies them with skepticism. “And why is this superior to a cell phone?”

Ready for the question, I square my shoulders. “They’re perfect for kids too young for phones, or hikes in the woods with no cell reception. Or for people who want to stay connected and off the government grid.” I tick the reasons off on my fingers. “Fool-proof. Weatherproof. And sparkly.”

Aspen clears his throat, shaking his head.

I clear my throat. “I mean, they can pass as common jewelry around humans. They also won’t run out of battery life.”

A smile plays at the corners of Aven’s mouth as he sets the crystal aside with an approving nod.

Relief surges through me, but I tamp it down. One spell down, three to go.

I reach into the box once more, pulling out a bundle of slender wooden rods topped with jagged fulgurite. The petrified lightning crackles with energy against my skin.

Arranging them on the table, I set the spell beside them. “Each of these rods can attract magical energy to a garden plot of about one-hundred square feet.”

Aven leans forward, interest piqued.

Before he can quiz me, I plow onward. “They’ll extend the potency of herbal potions and fortify wards against pests and blight.”

“Mom would adore those,” Waylon murmurs from beside his brother, his tone excited.

Aven shoots him a quelling look, but I catch the softness in his expression. Seems even the formidable Hutchen men have a soft spot for their mother.

Aven examines one rod, testing its heft. “Innovative. Practical. Well done.”

He sets it down and gestures for me to continue.

My heart soars, but I keep my face impassive. No celebrating yet.

I lift out my next offering, a delicate glass charm shaped like a miniature thundercloud. It catches the light, flashing with an otherworldly iridescence.

Aris had added her signature cuteness to the project, and I want to add it to the end of my wand alongside the potion bottle. “This one was a long-distance collaboration with a charm-crafter. We used the Grim Project to coordinate our efforts to develop a way to alert the wearer to an incoming storm. Storms are key to many weather crafters and the news channel sucks.”

“Are you here to take your ring test or pitch your pet project?” Aven asks with a warning note to his tone as he takes the corresponding spell from me.

“Both. The Grim Project allowed us to combine my ethereal magic with her charm-crafting expertise in real-time, from different states.” I risk a glance at Aspen, who gives me a surreptitious thumbs-up, blue eyes filled with pride.

Aven weighs the charm in his palm, frowning. “It’s quite dainty. How do we know it works without a storm?”

With a deep breath, I turn to Gael, the only other higher-level ethereal witch in the room besides myself.

Mischief sparks in his eyes when I hand him my final spell. “I thought I’d let Gael here put it to the test.”

Murmurs ripple through the assembled witches as I produce a clay pot filled with sand from the beach and set it on the floor atop a fireproof blanket. Into it, I stab a slender metal rod.

Gael grins and bounds up from the table, ponytail swishing. “This should be fun.”

“You’re wearing your wool socks, right?” I ask .

“Chucked out all my synthetic ones as soon as I left your house last time. I’m a purist now.” He skims the spell, brows climbing with each line.

He glances at me, both impressed and incredulous. “Seriously? That’s it?”

An anxious knot forms in my stomach as I shrug. “There is no try, only do.”

Gael chuckles and shakes his head, but strides over to the pot and rod. Kicking off one shoe, he rubs the bottom of his wool sock against his corduroys.

A tiny spark builds on Gael’s fingertip, and he drops his foot to the floor, standing still.

The air grows heavy, and the fine hairs along my arms raise. After another minute, Gael’s shoulder-length brown hair lifts and sways as if caught in an invisible breeze.

I let my vision slip into the magical world, studying the swirl of magic from the room gathering around him, drawn to the minuscule point of light dancing on his fingertip.

“Careful,” I warn, keeping my voice steady despite my quickening heartbeat. “Remember that we’re inside, and the lightning rod is right there. No need to blow the roof off.”

Gael’s head turns toward me, the gold flecks in his eyes glowing so brightly that they paint shadows on his face. “How much can we let it build?”

“Never tried to find my limit.” Tension coils in my gut. “How about you just focus on zapping the rod and making some glass for now?”

An exhilarated grin spreads across his face, and he turns back to the pot of sand, pulling his wand from his pocket. As he focuses, the magic he gathered narrows, funneling down his arm.

With a fluid sweep, Gael aims the wand. Lightning cracks through the air, nearly deafening in the enclosed space. I clap my hands over my ears as the clay pot explodes, sand spraying everywhere, and the metal rod pings off the wall.

“Whoops.” Gael quickly put his wand away. “Guess I used a smidge too much juice.”

“Ya think?” I pull pot holders and a pair of metal tongs from my box, then crouch in the debris, sifting through to dig out a small chunk of still-glowing fulgurite, the hollowed tubes beautiful and otherworldly.

I rise to show it to Gael. “One piece of lightning humming with your magic.”

He grins and spins to face his brothers. “So? Did the storm crystal do its thing?”

Aven gives himself a little shake and lifts the charm. The cute little storm cloud glows red in warning.

Dizzying excitement jolts through me. I wasn’t certain the charm would function as intended, seeing as it was the one spell I didn’t test. But I put my faith in Aris, trusting her expertise wouldn’t lead me astray.

“Looks good to me.” Waylon picks up one of the garden rods. “Of course, we’ll need to run the other spells through their paces to ensure the results are replicable. But if they all work like they should, I’d say you pass with flying colors.”

My knees go weak, and I stumble over to where Tris sits, collapsing onto his lap.

He hugs me. “This calls for a celebration! Milkshakes at Nesse’s Diner on us!”

After hours of celebrating at Nesse’s, Tris and I head home, where we continue the celebration with the people closest to us as night sets in.

Wine warms my belly as I snuggle against Owen on the couch in the family room, his arm wrapped around me. Tris sits on my other side, fingers entwined with mine .

Zane and Esme snuggle on the L-section, Esme’s face flushed despite her glass only holding sparkling cider.

She raises her glass to me. “Congratulations, Rowe. I knew you would pass.”

“You already said that twice.” Zane nuzzles her throat. “I think you’re tired.”

She giggles. “Rowe deserves all the congratulations.”

“I can’t believe we passed.” My words come out slightly slurred. “And the council witches will finally be out of our hair soon.”

Leaning across Owen, I thrust my glass toward Esme. “Cheers to that!”

We clink glasses, the liquid sloshing, and we both giggle.

I take another sip, savoring the rich flavor of red wine. It makes the sides of my tongue tingle and drool flood my mouth, and it’s now my favorite.

“Okay, you’re cut off.” Tris plucks the glass from my hand and dumps its contents into Ros’s when he holds his glass out. “When you start cooing at booze and professing your love, it’s time to switch to water.”

I blink at him. “Did I say that out loud?”

He taps my nose. “You did. ”

Okay, fair. I’ve probably had too many, but hell, we earned this night of celebration.

I snuggle back against Owen, resting my head on his chest, inhaling his piney scent. “You smell like Christmas.”

He cups the back of my head and presses his lips to my forehead. “You smell like win—” He stiffens beneath me. “Someone’s coming.”

Panic flares through me. No, not now, not when we’re so close.

Zane and Esme bolt upright, abandoning their wine glasses on the coffee table to dash for the elevator in the back hall, Esme’s skirt swishing around her long legs.

Before they can make it down to the basement, a perfunctory knock sounds at the door.

It swings open, and Aspen pokes his blond head inside. “Everyone decent?” He spots us on the couch and steps into the house. “Oh, good, you’re all here.”

To my horror, the council witches follow right behind him, and dread pools in my stomach.

“Rowe, I wanted to give you the news right away, so you’re not stressing about it until morning.” Gael strides toward me and takes in the empty wine bottles and glasses. “Though, it appears you’ll be sleeping just fine. ”

I push myself up from the couch, suddenly stone-cold sober. “Wow, what a pleasant surprise.”

As I walk around the couch, Gael extends an envelope. “Congratulations. You’ve earned your full witch’s license.”

The others rise to join me, forming a half-circle at my back. I stare at the crisp paper in his hand, not quite processing his words.

How is this happening now? I glance toward where Zane and Esme hide in the back hallway. Did they slip into Haut’s room to take cover?

Aspen clears his throat to fill the awkward silence. “This is quite an accomplishment, Rowe. You should be proud.”

Gael’s smile turns uncertain, and he wiggles the envelope. “I promise it won’t affect your street cred as a rebel witch.”

“Haha, you’re funny.” My laughter comes out strained as I take the envelope.

With trembling fingers, I slit open the envelope and slide out the laminated card inside. My eyes widen as I scan the information. “Seventh ring?”

Aspen’s grin stretches from ear to ear. “Surprise!” He lifts a covered dish I hadn’t noticed before, the rich scent of pumpkin pie wafting through the air. “I talked Jesse into baking you a pie to celebrate.”

“I don’t understand.” My fingers tighten on the card. “Wasn’t I taking my basic licensing exam? How did I jump so many levels?”

Aspen’s expression turns serious, and he sets the pie on the entryway table. “The magic you’ve been performing is far beyond that of a novice. I spoke with the Hutchen brothers, who conferred with the council, and they decided to give you more advanced tests to assess your true capabilities.”

Pride and fear war within me as I struggle to process this unexpected turn of events. “That’s… Incredible. I had no idea.”

Gael nods, his smile returning full force. “You’re not the only one who’s advanced. Delilah has been elevated to the sixth ring in her earth magic. She had a solid foundation before her lessons were disrupted, and she earned it.”

I want to be excited for my sister-in-law, but all I want is for all the outsiders to get out of my house. But how do I convince them to leave?

“We should celebrate in Rowe fashion!” Aspen turns toward the kitchen. “Why don’t I grab some plates for this pie?”

As he strides forward, panic rushes through me. If he goes into the kitchen, he might discover Esme and Zane, or proof there are other people here. We’d been high on celebration and careless with hiding.

Heart in my throat, I catch his arm. “No! Don’t go back there!”

And too late, as silence falls, I realize my actions may have given us away faster than anything else could have.