Page 104 of Magic's Rise

“Hey.” Haut brushes the tears from my cheeks as the flames engulf the turret. “We’ll figure this out, okay?”

“How? Generations of witches couldn’t do it.” I tear my gaze away, unable to watch the fire consume our last hope for Owen. “And what if that grimoire was our only chance of recreating the barrier? All these werewolves, who’ve never experienced moon madness… What will happen to them?”

“There’s still hope.” He pushes the hood of my bunny sweatshirt down. “We have something those generations of witches didn’t.”

Sniffling, I look up at him. “What’s that?”

He hugs me tight. “One incredibly stubborn, resourceful witch who never gives up.”

“I do, though.” My eyes threaten to spill over again. “Plenty of giving up in my history.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I think your noodle brain is messing with you, because I’ve never once seen you give up. Not when it counts. Not even fire was strong enough to snuff out your determination to survive.”

“Bunny sweatshirt for the win.” I look toward Aspen, who now sits upright, his injured leg sticking out in front of him. “You owe Mel an apology for calling it childish. Her spell just saved my life.”

“No, it didn’t.” He uncurls his tight grip on my wand and holds it out. “That spell stops high-impact projectiles, not fire. That was all you.”

“Impossible.” My hand shakes as I take the wand from him and slip it back into its sheath. “I’m not an elemental witch.”

“You found the ethereal. Trial by fire.” He grimaces. “Never do that again.”

“No problem. I now hate fire more than oceans.” I turn to Tris, who sits nearby, staring at the flames. “Thanks for pulling me out, sparky.”

His golden-brown eyes shift to me. “Thank you for being alive to be pulled out.”

As if the words released whatever self-control held him back, he crawls over and burrows under Haut’s arm to hug me.

My sweatshirt muffles his broken whisper. “I want to go home.”

I mash my cheek against his smoke-scented hair. “Yeah, me, too.

Aspen grabs the grimoire and inches over, not cuddling, but close. “I’m glad you came to look for me when you did. A few minutes more, and we both would have died.”

My gaze returns to the burning building. “At least I did one thing right.”

His eyes lift to the turret. “You broke the lock on the Rothaven book?”

“Yep. A fat lot of good it did.” Anger sizzles through me as I gesture. “The ancient grimoire is now ashes, along with my personal spell book.”

“Did you see anyone when you came downstairs?” he asks.

“The front door was already locked from the outside, and the fire was blazing.” I return my attention to him. “Did you hear anything?”

“No, I was…resting my eyes when the smoke woke me.” He runs a hand through his soot-darkened hair. “I ascertained the source of the poison, though, before my untimely nap.”

Tris lifts his head. “What did you discover?”

“It was hemlock.”

I straighten with alarm. “Something an earth witch would use?”

“Or anyone with forestry knowledge. It grows wild pretty much everywhere.” He shrugs. “The discovery doesn’t absolve any of our suspects.”

Haut’s bow furrows. “Wouldn’t a witch make a potion or something to make sure the attempt was successful?”

“Same with the poisoning of the forest,” I add. “And a witch wouldn’t have needed Aris’s reverse moon madness charm.”

“No, they wouldn’t.” Aspen contemplates the fire. “I’d bet money that an investigation will prove that this blaze was set with something like a Molotov cocktail. Basic, but efficient in getting the job done.”

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