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Chapter 12

Quentin pressedhis hands to his temples, hoping his head was not about to explode or his brain wasn’t going to leak out of his ears. Magic required focus, something which was hard to do when other people”s thoughts were pushing past his skin and whispering in his ear. He’d forgotten what this was like, and he wanted—no, needed—the clarity his medication brought. But if he used it, then he couldn’t even feel his magic.

After three days of training, he could at least sense the magic—it had taken him an entire day of trying to grasp the invisible inside of him to even do that.

Since then, the witch teaching him had been trying to get him to shield his mind so that other people’s thoughts weren’t derailing his own. He was extremely de-railable.

He wasn’t even sure he had rails.

He wouldn’t be surprised if all he had were unmarked trails going in multiple directions.

Not only that, but they hadn’t even ventured outside the witch’s office into the real world, where there would be hundreds of people all jostling his thoughts.

“Witches often think of their magic as something tangible. The idea of the shield and the train aren’t working for you. I know another mind reader who thinks of it as a fishpond. Other people’s thoughts are the fish. She can see them, and watch them, but they don’t impact her unless she puts her hand in to seek more information.”

He had thought the train idea would be a winner and that he could watch other people’s thoughts go past on their own tracks. The visualization that she used was of a shield, which didn’t work for him either.

Quentin glanced up at her. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. “Have you ever hated being a witch?”

“Have you ever hated breathing?” she countered.

Right now, with the headache thumping between his hands…possibly. If he passed out because he wasn’t breathing, he wouldn’t be in pain until he woke up.

“This is the most important thing you will learn about your magic. Back in the day, mind readers who didn’t control their magic ended up in asylums.”

“Why is this one so difficult? There must be easier magics.” He dug his fingers against his scalp, hoping to find some relief. His nails caused a different pain, but it wasn’t enough to distract him. The irony almost made him smile. When he wanted to be distracted, nothing worked.

“Every magic is difficult when you’re learning. Your type of magic doesn’t have a high fatality rate.”

That implied that some people did die from mind reading, which wasn’t reassuring at all.

“Would you like me to call the healer so we can continue?”

“No.” He lowered his hands and sat up straight. That was a mistake he’d made on the first day. While he could imagine there were some situations when magical healing was great, and the pain far outweighed what would happen otherwise. It was unpleasant, and there’d been a couple of heartbeats where he was sure he was about to have an aneurysm, or a stroke, or some other medical disaster.

All he really wanted was to see Kaine. It had been five days. An entire weekend had disappeared, and all he had done was work, study, or try to learn his magic. He had been hoping to spend time in bed fucking, not recovering.

“Okay, then. Find a way to visualize your magic. You need to have a separation between your thoughts and everyone else’s. Yet you also need the ability to reach in and examine, because there will be times when you need to study someone else’s thoughts.”

He doubted she would think assessing if his mate was actually into him was a good use of magic. In the hotel room, he’d believed Kaine had wanted him. Now?

The absence stung even though he should be used to people walking away from him.

Her lips curved in a sad smile. “I know the idea is unpalatable, but it might save your life or the lives of those you care about.”

But did the people he cared about care about him? He could find out once he knew what he was doing. Did she also know about Kaine?

“You should be able to scoop up my most surface thoughts, which is different from digging. Remember, when dealing with other paranormals ethically, you need to ask permission before using magic on them.”

The Fates hadn’t asked permission before tying him to Kaine.

“But not when it comes to humans because they don’t know about magic.” Maybe if he kept her talking, the clock would run down, and he could leave this for another day. Perhaps he could demand that Orion take him to see Kaine.

He doubted the shifter would as he took orders from Kaine, and clearly, Kaine didn’t want to see him. What had he done wrong?

“That is a gray area. They don’t know about us, so how can we ask?” She leaned back and sighed. Her gaze flicking to the clock. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave until you can protect yourself.”

Quentin closed his eyes. “What if I choose wrong? Can I change it later?”

“Of course you can. It’s your magic. Some advanced users don’t need to think of a tangible. They feel it within themselves so deeply, it’s like another limb.”

They must be like monks or hermits who did nothing but practice magic to reach that point.

Okay, come on, brain. We need a way to describe this magic so we don’t lose our shit. And maybe if I can do this, I’ll be able to see Kaine.

He was sure he felt the other witch’s thoughts dancing around him, touching his, like a sweep of…of butterfly wings.

The butterfly house in the hotel.

For a moment, he was sure that Kaine was standing next to him. He should’ve asked to walk through the butterfly house. Should have grabbed Kaine’s hand and dragged him inside so he could feel the tiny wings.

Imagining other people’s thoughts as butterflies was safer than imagining them as trains, which would take him out if they crashed into him or if he accidentally stood on the tracks.

As much as he wanted to imagine walking through the butterfly house. Instead, he stood on one side of the glass and stared in, watching them flutter and fly. Although, at the moment, there was only one butterfly, and she sat opposite him. She bounced against the glass, and he felt nothing. The pressure in his skull decreased, and he relaxed back into the chair, feeling as though he’d done a lap of the country. He was sure he was sweating.

He was also hungry.

“I think I’m doing it.”

She smiled and also appeared relieved that he’d accomplished step one of the training process. He suspected she’d never had a student so slow on the uptake, but then he hadn’t touched his magic in seven years, and it had taken a day just to find it.

He had it, and he could block out other people.

Take that, psychiatrist. I’m off my meds and fine.

“Now, I want you to dip in and brush the surface of my thoughts.”

He did not have it.

How the fuck was he supposed to do that?

As soon as he reached for her thoughts, it felt as though the wall would fall, and then the other much smaller and more distant butterflies would swarm him.

“I’m not sure how to do that without being inundated again.”

She was still smiling. She hadn’t expected him to get it. “Have a think about it. You might need to review and tweak your visualization. I suggest doing it in a quiet place away from other people in case whatever you’re testing doesn’t work. For the moment, though, you have one that does even though it’s not functional.”

“I mean, it’s stopping all the thoughts from getting to me. Isn’t that functional?”

“Only at a very basic level. It’s enough to protect your mind but not enough to be useful. You seem like the kind of person who wants to explore what you can do sooner rather than later. You aren’t going to be happy knowing enough to be safe.”

He didn’t know if the psych had written something in his file or if she had made that guess about him. But she wasn’t wrong. Now the headache was gone. He wanted to see what other people’s thoughts looked like, even if he didn’t touch them.

“Does it help that I can see your thoughts?”

“That depends on what you’re seeing.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to share the butterfly visualization, but if it helped…

“I’m using a butterfly house. I’m on one side, other people’s thoughts are on the other. The further away the people and their thoughts, the smaller and more distant they are in the house. You are close and curious and a nice soft blue.”

“The first problem with that is that you have tried to enclose other people”s thoughts. You need to adjust that. But since the strength and distance to other people”s thoughts are already represented, the colors may also mean something. What they mean is something you will have to figure out as they are colors your mind is assigning.”

He’d achieved one thing, and now he had a dozen other things that he needed to focus on. “What happens if I forget to think about the butterfly house?”

“Nothing. You’ve tapped into your magic now, and your mind recognizes it. If you feel as though there are too many pressing against you, you can shore up your defenses, increase the thickness of the glass, or do something that works for you. But for the most part, you should be able to hold it without thought. You aren’t going to forget how to use your magic, either.”

Quentin frowned. “So now I have connected to it. It’s just about learning to use it?”

“You’re a witch, Quentin. All you needed to do was to find your magic and feel it. It will become instinct if you let yourself breathe. How do babies learn to walk?”

“I really have no idea.” Sure, he’d been one, but he didn’t remember what it felt like to learn to walk.

“They stumble round and hold someone’s hand, and then they take their first step, and instinct takes over.”

“They still fall over.” As he spoke, he was sure he felt Kaine’s warmth against him, his hand on his lower back as if to encourage him. He wasn’t sure either of his parents had done that.

“Everyone does, including witches and shifters. Some are just better at hiding it.”

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