Page 90 of A Bond with the Dark

“I think it’s cause you’re trying too hard, love.”

“Why won’t fire listen to me? All the other elements are behaving!”

“Think of it like writer’s block. Something is blocking you from that fire, and you have to get to it. Imagine it is yours—or, better yet, your son’s. Someone took it from him, and now you’re trying to get it back. Picture it in your mind, igniting your insides and coming to life at your fingertips. Visually see it happening in your mind.”

Listening to me, she closes her eyes once again and mumbles something with her lips. I know she’s having a silent conversation with her powers, so I remain quiet and watch her. In a fleeting second, everything stills, like the Earth is listening to her request. The wind suspends, the birds quiet, and even the distant sound of the highway muffles. She leans forward and exhales once more, this time, the tiniest flame ignites on the tip of the candle.

“That’s it!”

“Oh my gods!” she exclaims with excitement. “I did it!”

“You did it!”

A profound relief washes over me. Even though it is the tiniest of flames, like a miniature version of an actual one, it means she’s tapped into that power.

It may be enough to save her life.

For now.

The next day, I’m meeting Sayah and her family at the little art studio nestled in the foothills that she chose for the celebration of life.

As I wait for the cars to arrive—as I am the first one here—I text my mom about all the magick that Sayah and I have been doing lately.

But is that enough, Dom? A tiny flame is a little to work with.

It’s a start. We’ll keep working on it. Please tell the Nyktorim to hold off.

I will let them know. But that isn’t enough to stop them or anyone wanting more significant results. That tiny flame did nothing to suppress the grims taking over our city.

I get that. But like I told you before, the spell she made for me with the moon and helping me walk in sunlight—that’s huge. It should show for something,

I know Dom. I do. And I know you love her for it. I’ll do what I can from my end.

That is all I am asking. Thank you.

I close my messages and turn the car off when Sayah’s vehicle pulls up.

Sayah disembarks the vehicle first, followed by her dad and stepmom.

Her dad is easily six foot, has a head full of hair that’s graying, a gray mustache, and square glasses that frame his eyes. He stands firm and proud as I approach him, extending my hand.

“Hello, sir. I’m Dominic.”

“Dominic. I’m David. Nice to meet you.”

His grip is firm; I can tell by the tension he is measuring what kind of man I am by the firmness of my hold. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. And you, madam?” I hold my hand out in a gentler manner to meet her stepmom.

“Lydia,” she says, offering me her hand. I take it gently and kiss the top of it in a bow.

Lydia is about as tall as Sayah, wearing white hair in a short pixie cut. She also has glasses that accentuate her pretty brown eyes. She is skinny and wears a lovely flowery dress with a jean jacket.

My eyes track back to David to see if he’s impressed with my other-timely charm, but he doesn’t seem phased. In fact, a glint in his eye is almost sinister.

After meeting her aunts and also the ex-husband who brought her son, I help Sayah through most of the day, lending her strength as she reads the eulogy she wrote to her family and friends.

While working on our magick last night, we devised a spell to bring a storm with no clouds while she played the slide show she made for her parents.

The picture slide show is twelve minutes long, and as she sits next to me in tears, watching her mom and stepdad’s life on the screen, she squeezes my hand when the songHurricanecomes on.

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