Page 55 of Practically Witches

I nod because I’m so overcome by my need for power that I can’t speak. I’m also a little freaked out at the idea of cords shooting out of my stomach to drain the power from it. And even more freaked that someone might see me that way.

“What does it feel like? Draining someone’s power?” I could find out. It would be so easy. He’s got witch power and he’s standing right next to me. But he’s also holding the scepter because no one—my parents included—thinks I should have it until it’s time to be used. It’s too much power for someone so young, they said. But they were all thinking that it was too much power to put in the hands of syphoner when she’s standing in the most magically infused building on the face of the earth. I didn’t need to be able to read thoughts to hear their hushed whispers.

“It’s like…” He closes his eyes for a second. “It’s like that first bite of cake while you’re on a diet.” That didn’t sound terrible. “But then after that first bite, you have to have all the cake and you have to gobble it down as fast as you can, and when the cake is gone, you have to go find more cake because you’re sure you’ll die without it. And the more cake you eat, the more you want. The more youneed. Until you can’t think of anything else.”

I nod. I like cake.

“RJ, you have to be stronger than the desire. You can’t let the darkness get you.” He shakes his head and looks atme. Whatever he sees, I can’t guess. But it’s enough to make him look again, to stare, to stand in front of me and shake my shoulders. “You listen to me, RJ. You have to be stronger than all that desire to take. You like brownies, not cake, you hear me?”

I nod again.

“When this is over, I’ll tell you what I do to fight it.”

He thinks I didn’t hear the whispers in the dining room after their little parents meeting. They were all guessing, saying whichever kid it was who had the power to syphon would have to be sent away. Locked up. Taken far from the Institute. It’s what they should’ve done with Elizabeth. I understand they’re scared. That, however, doesn’t make it easier to hear. To know.

“Better tell me now.” I could really use the advice.

But before he can speak, one of the lights overhead flashes brighter, dims, then explodes in a shower of sparks.

“She’s here, RJ.”

I nod because I can feel her. I can feel the stolen power inside of her.

“Remember, get her into the Hall of Greats.”

I’m not particularly fond of the idea, but I nod. The others are going to throw a spell that locks us in there until I can cast the killing spell and zap her with the scepter. If all goes well, she turns to dust. If it happens not to go well, she’ll break the spell, drain all their magic, and the lines of the first-family magic will die. No pressure.

The doors blow open and it’s like something out of a movie. The lockers in the hallways open. Papers are sucked out and into the gymnasium as she stands in silhouette from the lights outside and the brightness of the moon.

She’s got my hair—full, thick and curly—and Aimee’s build—petite and athletic. But when she steps inside, hereyes glow and she stalks across the lacquered hardwood, her heels clicking on the surface with every step.

Her eyes are glowing red, and it reminds me of some of the old pictures in Mom’s photo albums from when we were kids. It looks like this woman is in a permanent state of having Mom take her pictures.

I stand still, well aware that I am supposed to be leading her toward the Hall of Greats, but I can’t move. I can feel Aimee’s power in her, and Zane’s, and I want them. I want them so badly I can taste it.

She looks at me and laughs. For a second, I wonder if she knows how intensely I feel it. It’s in my bones, in my blood.

The wind whips around me, blowing my hair into my face. It’s a nice trick and I can tell she’s using Aimee’s magic to make it happen. I laugh because it’s very 1980s movie magic. I leech off her stolen magic to slam the doors shut and make it stop.

She yanks away my hold on Aimee’s magic and I stumble backward. I never realized using magic was that physical before. I thought it was all mental. Not for the first time, I wish someone would’ve fully explained all of this—what I am—to me and how it works. For now, all they’ve told me is how to handle this.

I’m going to do this for Aimee because as soon as I touched her power, I could tell the difference between when she had it and what it is now. With Aimee, her power is light and bright, not dangerous. In Elizabeth, Aimee’s power is darkness and terrifying. She better not have destroyed my sister’s goodness. I will make her death decidedly more painful if she has. Mom gave me that spell too, just in case.

When she gets close to me, she stops. “You?” Like shecan’t believe little old me is going to be the one who takes her down.

I nod. “Me.”

Although, up close, she’s beautiful in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. She glows with magic. She has the magic of four of the first families inside of her. And when I look close enough, I can see the lines of power in her eyes.

“It’s not your magic.”

She circles me. “It is.” Her voice is low, hoarse, as if she’s been screaming.

“It belongs to them.”

“They’re children. They have no need for it.” She shakes her head. “My magic was stolen from me.”

“No,” I say. “We never had magic. You and me. We were born without it.”

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