Page 22 of Muddled Magic

I obeyed, paying more attention to her words than I ever had before, and I’d been very obedient growing up. The hallway of the not-dog and the grimoire was very narrow—there wouldn’t be a lot of room to maneuver, so I had to be very careful.

“This is a compounding incantation—the more you say the spell, the more long-lasting and effective it will be,” she continued. “You’ll just have to experiment with how much you can handle. I’ll show you first. You keep grounding yourself while you watch, okay?”

Nodding, I focused on my breathing, of feeling the power of the earth move up through my feet and legs and into my magical core where it swirled around the dozing seed of my power.

“Quick as a rabbit, one, two, three.

Speed my steps to keep me free.”

My mother became a blur of color zigzagging around the training yard. Occasionally she would pause long enough for her image to resolve halfway into the woman I recognized, then she was off again in another direction. It was dizzying to watch her, and suddenly my skin blanched and my stomach heaved.

She came to a full stop as I braced my hands on my knees and fought to keep my breakfast in my stomach.

“Sorry, honey,” she soothed, rubbing my back and offering me a ginger candy. I unwrapped it and shoved it into my mouth. “I forgot to warn you not to watch too closely.”

“You were like a moving shadow,” I gasped, fighting another surge of nausea as I straightened. “I think I need another candy.”

She handed me another, Aunt Peony’s magical blend of ginger and other herbs soon calming my twisting stomach.

“Care to give it a go?” she asked when the color had returned to my face. I nodded. “Alright. Now remember what I said about grounding yourself. This is the epitome of multitasking—you must keep your frame of reference—the ground—in mind, just as much as where you want to move.” She backed away ten large steps and conjured green light to her hands. “Come to me. I’ll make a net so you won’t slam into me.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I focused on the grass between my toes and the solidness of the earth. I recited the words Mom had taught me, and while I felt the magic blossom, nothing happened. It was like all I’d done was thought about taking a step, but my body hadn’t completed the action. There was a feeling of waiting, as if my body were a computer stuck on a loading screen.

“Quick as a rabbit, one, two, three.

Speed my steps to keep me free,”

I whispered again, and I jolted forward a step.

“You’ve almost got it!”

I repeated the rhyme twice more in quick succession, and suddenly I was slamming into a wall of green light.

Looking up from where I sprawled on my back on the grass, I wheezed, “It felt like I’d only taken one step!”

“You did only take one step.” Mom smiled down at me. “A very quick step. Try again?”

I spent all morning trying the Rabbit Step to varying degrees of success. While I ended up mostly on the ground, I was beginning to get the hang of it. And it wasn’t like I was going to try to steal the grimoire away from the not-dog tonight anyway. I still needed a distraction for my family to look at instead of me.

“I think we’re at the point of diminishing returns,” Mom said gently. “It’s better to end on an encouraging note than a depressing one. But you’re doing very well for a beginner. Let’s get some lunch and then go help your aunts in the vegetable garden.” She pointed to the clouds rolling in from the west. “We’ll get the rest of that one patch cleared before the rain hits.”

As we headed towards the manor, one of the family’s unmarked cars crept out of the converted stables. Marten, dressed all in black, and in modern clothes too, glanced our way as we paused under the honeysuckle arbor to let the car pass. He nodded once at our mother before turning his grim expression back towards the long driveway.

“Mom?” I prompted.

“Never you mind, honey,” she replied briskly. “Official coven business.”

“Already?”

“Never mind, Meadow.”

But I still paused on the brick walkway, watching him go, my stomach sinking somewhere past my knees. Something told me I had less time to plan the theft of the grimoire than I originally thought.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The rain was coming down hard after dinner, faraway thunder tolling in the distance. Marten wasn’t back yet from wherever he’d gone, or, if he was, I couldn’t snoop around to find him because I’d drawn the lot for the hearth vigil that night. While I’d had a chance of persuading Boar or Otter to swap chores with me, there was no way they’d sacrifice a good night’s sleep to switch with me. Unless I was in labor. Maybe.

But since I was unwed and unpregnant, much less been touched by a man in that fashion, I was doomed to remain by the hearth until dawn sipping rabbitfoot clover tea—aka Perky Juice—and tossing logs onto the fire whenever it got low. A hearth witch’s fire could never go out, you know.

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