Chapter Fifteen

In Which They are Forced to Write in Blank Notebooks

I cannot get enough of Marcus, and the feeling seems to be mutual. We drag ourselves out of bed only to eat sandwiches before heading back to bed. We stay there all night and well into the early hours of the morning, making love and napping. I pass out hard at five and wake up at noon to find Marcus coming out of the shower with a single towel wrapped around his waist.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

I check my phone for the time. “Fuck, the animals.”

“No, you’re fine. I took care of it. I figured it was the least I could do after wearing you out.”

I laugh as I stretch. “You did wear me out.” I roll to the edge of the bed to look for my clothes. “Ugh, have you seen my shirt? I need to get up and put some clothes on.”

“Or you could let me join you.”

I lift up the blanket in an invitation for him to come back to bed and he drops his towel, letting me enjoy the view for only a moment before sitting down. I reach up and scratch his back as he works on removing the prosthetic.

“Does the prosthetic go in the shower, too?”

He shakes his head as he finishes up and turns to pull me close. “No. I take it off before. It’s safer to sit with only one leg to balance on, so I have a stool I keep in there.”

I tangle my legs up with his and rest my head on his chest. “I probably need to go see the fire witch this afternoon.”

“What about after that?” he asks.

“I don’t have anything.”

“Can I take you to dinner? I’m not big on crowds, but I owe you a date night in the city.”

I squirm in his arms as I think of how to best respond.

“Could we just stay here… close to the bed?”

His hand reaches for my breast, his thumb gently tracing the outline of my nipple before reaching down and latching on to me. He works his tongue around my nipple, sucking and licking until I’m squirming, my fingers digging into the dark flesh of his ass. “Why would you want to be close to the bed?” he teases.

“No reason,” I say, tugging his head back to my breasts. He starts to work on the other one as his fingers find my clit. I run my nails across his scalp as he works me until I’m nearly ready to cum on his hand for the millionth time.

“Can you be inside me?” I ask.

“I’d love that more than anything, but my leg is–”

“Say no more,” I tell him, throwing my leg over him and rubbing my pussy over his very hard cock. I’m soaking us both and steal a moment to finish what he started, rubbing my clit against him. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, almost a hum of approval as I work myself against him. His hands smooth over my backside as I move, taking my pleasure from him as his eyes are locked on mine. It’s a sexy staring contest I lose almost immediately as I reach my peak. The orgasm fills my belly and limbs with heat for a long moment and I close my eyes, letting it wash over me until I find myself aware of the world.

“I still want your cock,” I murmur, my eyes still closed. His chuckle is a low deep rumble.

“It’s all yours.” He looks up at me with a smile as I get situated. His calloused hand cups my breasts. Then he uses his thumbs and forefingers to roll my nipples while I get us lined up.

“Hmmm… I love this view.” Marcus says, his voice almost a growl.

I can’t help but smirk down at him as I lean forward just a little to maneuver him to just the right spot before slowly sinking down onto him. He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes as I press down on his cock. I’m going to be sore later, but now that I have him, I can’t seem to get enough of this.

I lean over and rest my hands on his shoulders, lifting my hips up and down in a slow rhythm until he’s gripping my hips and helping me move.

“Am I moving too slow?” I tease as I slide down on him.

He lets out a breath. “I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

I like that answer and start to move at his pace until his fingers are digging into the flesh of my hips, locking me in place as he cums. His body is rigid for a moment as he pulls me as close as he can, his breath labored until he lets it all go and relaxes.

I rest my head on his shoulder for a moment, before rolling to his side.

“Thank you,” he murmurs in my ear, scratching my back.

I could definitely get used to this.

After a string of texts back and forth between Darla and me, it’s decided that the witch she thinks can help me will come by witch school, so I should come to one last session.

By the time Marcus and I are washed, dressed, and ready to actually leave the bedroom, it’s getting close to time for me to leave. I feel a little weird stepping out of Marcus’s bedroom in front of my familiar, as if he’s a person and we’re doing the “walk of shame” in front of him, but he doesn’t call me on it. I guess in his world sex isn’t really a big deal.

I plop down next to him on the couch and he stirs, sending me a picture of Marcus scratching his back, so I scratch him while Marcus finds his treats.

Outside in the driveway, Marcus and I say our goodbyes, kissing way too long before I head back home to gather my things up for class while he heads to the grocery store. No one’s home to tease me about being out all night, so I pack up and head out as quickly as I can.

I arrive extra early to apprenticeship class with a whole bag of things–yarn, hooks, and the newest notebook I own for my Book of Shadows. I may not be staying on with the baby witches, but I’m sure I’ll need a Book of Shadows eventually.

Alyssa is already there, sitting at Darla’s picnic table, munching on a peanut butter sandwich, and reading a completely different tome than the one she had just two days before. I look longingly at the book. If only my brain would sit still long enough to let me read like that. I haven’t been able to dig into a long book in ages.

“You still want to learn to crochet?” I ask as I sit down next to her. I push my overstuffed tote toward her.

She peeks into the bag and rifles through the various skeins and balls. “Yes, please. Can I use the yellow yarn?”

I hand her the ball and a hook then get started showing her the basics. Someone has shown her a little because she takes to the chains and single crochet right away, so I start her on a granny square. Like everything else, she’s a natural. She has a whole complete square done by the time Darla steps outside with a couple of plastic grocery bags and a tote. Wordlessly, she drops Alyssa’s bag at her side and then sets the tote and other bag down at the end of the table.

It doesn’t take long for the other baby witches to start straggling in. Adrian shows up last, his hair in a million directions, no helmet this time. “You will wear a helmet,” I hear Darla tell him. “Your mama lost her baby brother that way.”

He pales and nods. “Yes, ma’am.” Without another word, he takes his seat, looking anywhere but at Darla.

Darla comes to stand at the end of the table and clears her throat. “I hope you’ve all come prepared. If not, I have a few small notebooks you can get started with, but it’s very important we get started on your magical books today.”

She pulls out a very unmagical plastic tub with craft-store journals and looks around the table. “Does everyone have something to start out with?”

None of the kids say a word, but I remember being that age. I wouldn’t have said a word if I was on fire in front of other kids. I’m sure someone forgot a notebook and we’ll find out about it in a minute. Darla waits a moment, replaces the lid on the tub and continues her lecture.

“It’s important that your Book of Shadows and Grimoires are a reflection of you.” Darla tells us with all the seriousness of a college professor. “In order for your magic to come to full strength, you must understand your own strengths and weaknesses. Your Book of Shadows will serve as your everyday journal. In it, you will keep detailed notes about any magic you do, records of any magical occurrence that happen in your day-to-day life, interpretations of dreams, and oracle readings.

“Your grimoire will be much more formal. More like a reference book. In it, you will keep histories of your life, spells that have proven to be reliable, correspondences that have worked for you, and so on. Magic is much like science–trial and error. Observation is a key component. Your mothers and fathers look to family grimoires for answers when they cannot find the solutions to magical problems. And, one day, your ancestors may use yours in the same way.”

“Alright, pull out the notebook you’ve brought to use for your Book of Shadows. All the kids around the table dutifully pull out beautiful books. Every single one is leather-bound, handmade with pages that look like they were individually pressed. Next to me, Alyssa fidgets with her own backpack. Slowly, she pulls a plain composition notebook from the bag. It’s a little beat up, the corners frayed at the edges. She keeps it on her lap, hidden from the rest of the table. My bag sits between us, so I do the only reasonable thing, and snatch the composition notebook from her hands, laying it on the table in front of me as if it’s mine.

Terror crosses her face for a fraction of a second until I pull the new blank notebook I brought for this assignment out of my bag and place it quietly on her lap. Her face brightens and she whispers, “thank you,” before setting it out on the table in front of her. It’s not as fancy as the other girls’, but it is sturdy and well-made. It will make a good Book of Shadows for her.

Darla raises an eyebrow at me as if asking me a question, but I just smile. It’s not like I was going to be able to write in it anyway. My perfectionism would never allow me to start in a brand new notebook.

“Now where was I?” Darla starts to dig around in a box at her end of the table without answering her own question. She pulls out a notebook covered in flowers and hands it to me, then begins passing around pieces of paper. “Today we’re starting with a book blessing. Blessings take many forms. They don’t have to be fancy or poetic. They just have to be from the heart.”

“But how can we bless anything if we don’t even know how to use magic yet?” Mariah asks.

Darla isn’t phased this time. “Because it’s about intention, Mariah. All magic is. Normal mortals perform magic all the time without realizing it using intention and, today, you’ll do the same. So right now, I want you to close your eyes and think about yourself at the end of your apprenticeship. What kind of witch do you hope to be? How will this Book of Shadows help you get there?”

Alyssa’s small hand taps mine as we all settle down to work. She places a small folded up piece of paper in front of me. I open it up to find the word THANKS written in all caps. I’ve barely had time to read the word when the piece of paper turns into a small butterfly and flies away. I guess some of these kids can use magic already.

I suck in a breath of surprise. Here I am at 27, accidentally burning people alive, and this little girl can turn paper into living things at 17. I look up and find myself staring into Darla’s eyes. She nods as if she can read my thoughts.

“That was amazing,” I whisper. It’s the first time I get a good look at Alyssa. She’s wearing an old faded t-shirt that is a few sizes too big and the hem of her jeans seems worn. Her long, dark hair covers her face as she works.

She turns to me and shrugs. “Daddy says it’s a waste. If only it was something useful, like turning paper into food.”

“Magic doesn’t work that way,” I tell her.

She sighs. “Oh, I know,” and goes back to her paper.

I wonder how useful her daddy finds this class.

The six of us baby witches work on our blessings until Darla is satisfied and allows us to copy them down in the front of our journals. We end the class with a quick practice Choracle reading with our partner and then it’s time for everyone but me to go.

Alyssa, as usual, is the last kid to finish packing. We are both caught up in packing up our belongings when I hear Alyssa suck in a breath.

A tiny woman close to my age with short brown hair and a nose piercing enters the yard. She’s a little on the gothy side, but looks fairly normal as far as people go. She is wearing a tank top, jeans, and Docs and has full tattoo sleeves on both arms. Darla greets her with a smile and they begin to talk, ignoring us.

“Do you know her?”

Alyssa nods, awestruck. “That’s Esmer Rodriguez.” Alyssa looks down at me. “She’s, like, the most famous fire witch in the state.”

“Oh.” Why did I expect a matronly woman my mother’s age?

Alyssa smiles. “What’s wrong?”

“Darla wants me to start working with her instead of coming here.”

“So you won’t be coming to class anymore?” she asks.

I shake my head.

“Oh,” she says, then after a long pause. “Well, it was nice knowing you.”

I look up at her and smile. “It was nice knowing you, too. Here–” I tear off a piece of my notebook paper from my blessing rough draft and write my name and number on it. “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to call or text. I live next to the old fire station and if no one’s there, my, uh, friend lives in the fire station. He’s usually there. His name is Marcus. He’ll know where to find me.”

She folds the paper up and slips it in her jeans pocket. “Thanks. Good luck.”

“You, too.”

Alyssa hurries off past Darla and Esmer, who wave as she rushes past.

“Sarah,” Darla says as she walks over to the table, followed by Esmer. “This is Esmer.”

Esmer reaches out and shakes my hand with a bright smile on her face. “I’ve been dying to meet you. It isn’t everyday I get to meet someone burning men alive right out of the gate.”