Chapter Sixteen

In Which We’re Back on the Subject of Journals Again

“ I t was an accident,” I respond without thinking. I don’t mean to sound so defensive, but it comes out that way.

Esmer holds up her hands. “Woah, no one’s accusing you of anything. Honestly, I find it incredibly impressive. I’ve been a fire witch for fifteen years and I’ve never come close to a spell like that without some major prep beforehand. Can you tell me how it happened?”

I look at Darla. She nods encouragingly, so I begin retelling the story of that night. Esmer listens to the entire thing, nodding along. “That is insane, girl. You have so much control! I would have wanted to take him out.”

“I almost did. If Darla hadn’t been there…”

Esmer waves it off. “Yeah, well, it’s good not to have murder charges against you, I guess. Darla’s good like that, always watching out for everyone. Though if anyone deserved it, it was that guy.”

“Yeah.”

Esmer claps her hands together. “Well, let’s get started.”

“Now?”

She nods. “No time like the present.” She digs through her bag and pulls out a huge metal plate and candle. She sets the candle on the plate and looks at me expectantly. “Alright, kiddo, go for it.”

“I-I can’t really control it.”

She smiles. “Of course you can.”

I close my eyes and think about the candle burning. It hasn’t done anything to make me mad or embarrass me, and I’m not feeling super emotional at the moment, so I have my doubts.

“What are you thinking about?” Esmer asks aloud.

I huff a laugh. “That I’m not emotional enough to do this right now.”

“Open your eyes,” she says. I do as she asks and find the candle is lit.

“Did I really do that?”

She laughs, “Nope, I did.”

“Oh.”

She laughs again. “There’s a point, I promise. I’m just sitting here with you and Darla. We aren’t emotional, nothing crazy is happening, no one’s being attacked. We’re just here, sitting at a picnic table, and I’m able to light the candle without even touching it. Yes, magic is easier when you’re emotional, but it’s also very unpredictable. You kinda got lucky, as horrible as it sounds, that you were able to attack that asshole with the magic. What if it had been off and you’d burned down the stage you were on? Or hit some innocent bystander? It can’t be emotion-based. That’s an incredibly dangerous way to work magic. For you to control it, you’re going to have to work on grounding yourself and controlling your inner self.”

“Like meditation?” I ask.

She raises an eyebrow at the tone of my voice. “Is that a problem?”

I sigh. “When I was younger, my brain always felt… messy. My thoughts would run and I couldn’t sleep. The therapist my parents took me to tried to help me with meditation, but the thing that actually worked was journaling.”

“Do you still journal?” Esmer asks.

I shake my head. “I stopped after my younger brother got into my things and read it aloud for an audience.”

Esmer grimaces. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but…”

“You want me to start journaling again?”

She nods, her lips a thin line. “Yes, please. You’ll need to write twice a day for a while–once in the morning when you wake up and once again before you go to bed. You need to get in the habit of clearing out your thoughts before we get started on anything that remotely looks like control.” She pulls out a plain appointment calendar and flips to September. “We also need to get on a regular schedule so you can practice. Darla says you have a familiar. Can you and your familiar come by my house on Wednesday afternoons?”

“Uh, sure.”

We exchange information as I’m getting ready to leave. “Don’t forget,” she says as I stand from the table. “Journal, every morning and every night.”

I nod. “Got it. Won’t forget.”

When I get back to Marcus’s, he’s doing the sluttiest thing a man can do: he’s making dinner for us–a real dinner, with sides and a salad. He’s standing at the old beige electric range, searing a steak in a cast iron skillet, as Freddie K. watches on. The tiny old man may not be able to see very well, but he can smell just fine. He’s got both tiny front paws on Marcus’s leg, looking hopeful.

Marcus turns to me and smiles. “How was witch school?”

“Good.”

“Are you ready for dinner?” he asks, shutting off the stove.

“I am. You didn’t have to go all out.”

“I have to keep your strength up.”

I can’t help but snort a very unlady like laugh at that. He grins as he sets a small steak on my plate. “I have mashed potatoes and salad, too,” he says, setting mismatched bowls on the table.

“This looks amazing. Did you make Freddie K. anything? He’s looking hopeful.”

“Did I make Freddie K. anything? Of course I did. What kind of pet parent do you take me for?” I giggle at his vehemence as he sets a tiny piece of steak in the dog bowl and then makes a plate for himself. We dig into our food and for a while, there is silence as we work through the food on our plates.

“What time do you have to leave for work tomorrow? I can have something ready when you get back from class.”

A prick of nervousness fills my belly. I look up at him. His face is neutral–there’s no hint at all about how he feels. Are we pretending my job is just a regular job? Are we facing it head on?

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. Um, today was my last day at witch school. I met the fire witch and she’s having me come by her house on Wednesdays with Freddie K. to work on control.”

“So I just need to have dinner ready before you head in?”

“I can cook, too.”

“Not if you have to work. What time do you need to be there?”

I hesitate for a moment longer and then decide to just go with it. “The show doesn’t usually start until eight. I usually try to get there by seven because Ginger, our house mom, cooks a big meal and sells plates to everyone, but if you’re making dinner, I probably don’t need to head out until seven-thirty.”

“What’s a house mom do?”

Okay, so maybe we’re just acting like it’s a regular job? Questions are good, I think.

“She does a lot of things. She keeps the dressing room clean and stocked. She runs out to buy things we need, she fixes shoes, sews, cleans the bathroom. During the afternoon she’ll sometimes work at the bar if the rest of the Lamars are busy. She gets paid hourly by Randy for that, but everything else is tipped from us.”

“Tips?”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of fees involved in dancing. Some clubs will charge for dancers to dance, for their outfits, for their shoes. Randy only does that Friday and Saturday nights. We bring our own outfits and shoes. We tip the DJ and Ginger, and the bouncers.”

“And it’s still worth it financially?”

“It was,” I nod.

“What do you mean was ?”

I run a fork through my mashed potatoes. “The Lamars got a little weirded out by my sudden ability to cast spells. Earlier on the night we met at Soojin’s, a man tried to attack me and I—”

He raises an eyebrow. “You what?”

“I accidentally cast a spell that burned him alive from the inside.”

He chuckles. “Damn, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“It was an accident. I didn’t even know I could–”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m not judging. In fact, I’m sure he got exactly what he deserved.”

“Anyway, after that, they cut me from four days to the two that Darla works. They want her there to be able to counteract anything I might accidentally do.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I have savings. It’s just frustrating… and honestly, I thought…” my voice trails off.

He stops and looks at me. “Thought what?”

“It’s going to sound really stupid. I should know better.”

“Know better about what?”

I look down at my plate, embarrassed. “Most clubs I worked at were pretty cut-throat. Everyone was competing with everyone else. No one gave you a break. But the Lamars always made me feel like part of their pack, and so I thought…”

“They’d take care of you when things got tough? When you needed them the most, when something beyond your control happened while you were doing your job? I don’t think I have any idea what that feels like, honestly.” he says deadpan, but with amusement in his eyes.

I offer him a half smile. “Well, it sucks, and this doesn’t come close to comparing what happened to you and Lugh, but I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

“Don’t ever feel bad about trusting people who went out of their way to make you feel like you could, only to leave you on your own in the end. That’s a problem on their end, not yours.”

I nod. “But I should have known. It’s just a job and I’m just a human. Of course, I’m not part of the pack. I’m just some chick who dances at their club.”

“Unless that whole witch thing comes with mind-reading, there’s nothing you could have done.”

I sigh. “It sucks.”

He nods and takes another bite. “Tell me about it.”