Page 83 of Road Trip with a Vampire
“It’s cold out here,” I protested, but sat beside him anyway. He wrapped a strong arm around me and pulled me close. His body provided no additional heat, but I burrowed into his side nonetheless, enjoying being near him.
“Do you want to make a fire for us?” he whispered into my hair. When I turned to look at him, his eyes were shining. “Your hands are shaking. You need to use your magic.” Gods, he was right. I was so exhausted I hadn’t even noticed. “Also, if I’m being honest, I’d like to see what you can do when your mind is not occupied with…other things.”
He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, and I knew he was thinking about those poor exploded wineglasses at our last hotel. My hard blush that rose up in response was so warm I briefly forgot I was freezing.
“I probablyshoulduse my magic,” I agreed. “I was preoccupied with the long drive and then finally getting to a place you remembered, but—”
“I apologize for that,” he cut in.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I was going to do a spell soon anyway, even if you hadn’t suggested it.”
Peter nuzzled my temple. I closed my eyes, relishing the touch. “Should I get some firewood?”
The sheer intimacy of him wanting to be a part of something I hadn’t shared with anyone in years made my heart ache. I shook my head, burrowing closer into his side. “No need.” I’d get it myself through a conjuring spell. Without anyone around to see me do it, there was no reason not to. And the extra expenditure of power made it the perfect next step in my experimentation.
“You sure?” Peter asked.
“I have all I need right here.” I waggled my fingers at him, laughing when he teasingly made to bite one of them.
I carefully extricated myself from his arms, then moved a few feet away so he wouldn’t get hit by an errant conjured log. And then I began.
Calling what I didconjuringwasn’t quite accurate. I couldn’t simply pluck anything I wanted out of the ether with a flick of my wrist and have it drop into my lap. The only person I knew who could dothatwas Matilda Evanston, the worst bowler on our old league by a mile. We’d lost more than a few matches because of her, but her unusual talent kept us in unlimited breadsticks on league nights. On balance, it was worth keeping her around.
Relative to Matilda, my conjuring powers were limited. I could grab things from a fair distance away and bring them to me, yes—but only if they were carbon-based, as all my powers derived from the elements. And I could only do this with objects that were within about a half-mile radius of where I was.
Still, though. It was nothing to sneeze at as abilities went. Back when I had used my magic more regularly, I’d use it to grabthings I needed without having to go up the stairs. And there was plenty of driftwood within a half-mile of where Peter and I were, which was what mattered now.
Gathering enough of it to create a fire would also be the most significant use of my power I’d indulged in since moving to California. We would be so far beyond my old candle-lighting party tricks, it wouldn’t even be in the same zip code. Whatever happened next would tell me a lot about whether—and how—I could use my powers safely in the future.
I closed my eyes and reached out with my senses to find pockets of carbon that would be useful in a fire. I felt a school of fish swimming in the lake and then, a quarter mile farther down the shore, sensed a group of gulls napping on a blanket of seaweed. This place was teeming with life despite the frigid temperatures. I brushed past them all, leaving them as undisturbed as I could, before moving down and down the coastline.
“Zelda?” Peter’s voice drifted to me from where he still sat a few feet away. He sounded worried.
“I’m fine,” I said, answering his unspoken question. “Just…sensing.” An unused lifeguard tower, a pile of rocks someone must have stacked on a recent beach visit, and—
There.
Lying on the ground nearly half a mile away, at the very edge of my limits, was a pile of driftwood. A quick scan showed it was likely dry enough to serve my purposes. It was such a random collection that no one would notice or care if it was gone.
Perfect.
I extended my fingertips towards the pile, sensing its size and general shape with another whisper of power. There were six pieces in all, and they were lighter than they looked, which boded well for them being dry enough to burn. Moving closer tothem would make this process easier, but I stayed put. This experiment was meant to test what would happen if I taxed myself. Taking shortcuts would defeat the purpose.
Besides. A not-insignificant part of me wanted to knock Peter’s socks off with what I was about to do.
I took another deep breath and dipped into my core of power. The incantation needed to move the driftwood came back to me in a rush, and I spoke it quietly. If this worked, it would first pull the wood into the dimension where all lost objects went, then shove them back out again right where I stood.
It did work. Sort of. It must have been longer than I’d thought since I’d done this, because instead of reappearing one piece of driftwood at a time, the entire pile appeared less than six inches in front of me with a giant whooshing sound. It was so loud the nearby flock of seagulls shrieked in surprise and took to the air.
I nodded to myself, satisfied with a job well done. I felt good. Spent, but still in control.
Then my legs gave out and I crashed, bottom first, to the ground.
Peter was at my side faster than I could blink.
“Are you all right?” he asked, worry lacing his tone.
I nodded. “I’m fine.” Truth be told, now that it was over I was dizzy as hell. Probably from using more power in one go than I had in a decade. But telling him that would only make him worry more.
