“Filter out pain, let in truth, absorb what intends to do harm. Filter out pain, let in truth, absorb what intends to do harm. Filter out pain, let in truth, absorb what intends to do harm…”
She squeezes my hand, and I join in, chanting along with her. Our voices blend and our chant speeds up until our whispers become nothing more than a low hiss. I sink into the restful, all-consuming darkness, letting it close in on me as I feel the last of my energy drain into the crystal.
Avery lets go of my fist. “Open your hand.”
I uncurl my fingers to reveal the necklace and the red marks its pointed edges have left on my skin. The amethyst looks different somehow. Brighter, maybe. And it’s burning hot. I swear I can feel it vibrating when I touch it with my other hand.
Avery wears a satisfied smile. “It’s charged and ready.”
“Holy shit.” I did it. Magick. And it was incredible.
I exhale and sag against the couch behind me.
“Tired?” Avery asks.
“I feel half dead. Like PMS tired.”
She laughs. “That means you did it right.”
“PMS?” I’m so wiped, I’m slaphappy.
“Ha ha. The ritual, you dork.” She comes round the table to settle beside me. “You’re a natural born witch.”
I’m too exhausted to consider the weight of that assessment. “What now?”
“Now we ground again so we can balance our energy.”
She takes me through another meditation, this one faster, until we’ve both played give-and-take with the earth long enough to feel replenished. At least now I’m able to get up off the floor. I perch on the couch and put the necklace back on. It feels as if it’s alive—with a heart that’s beating in time with mine.
“Last step of any intense ritual—” Avery licks her lips and grins. “Chocolate.”
So that’s what the M&M’s are for. While she snuffs out the candles, I dig the bags out of my backpack and flop onto the couch next to her. We take handfuls of each flavor and go to town.
“This isn’t just a reward,” Avery explains as she crunches the candy shells. “Chocolate revitalizes you. Magically and chemically.”
“I’m not sure M&M’s are real chocolate.”
She smacks me playfully on the leg. “Quit splitting hairs.”
I laugh and toss another handful of the peanut butter variety into my mouth.
For the next hour, we eat chocolate and talk. I’m hanging out with Avery like she’s no less a friend than Liv. And it’s good. Maybe even better because we talk about things only the two of us understand. Namely, what it’s like to be psychic.
“It feels good to know now, doesn’t it?” she asks.
“I suppose it does.” I don’t feel quite so…broken.
We discuss mundane things too, like our families. I’m surprised to find out she’s from Atlanta because she doesn’t have a Southern accent, and she’s the polar opposite of a Southern belle. All the same, her wealthy, elite family was hoping to raise her to be one.
She pokes me in the arm. “It’s what you’re being groomed for, too.”
Well, maybe not a Southern belle exactly, but for a life I’m not sure I want. “Is it that obvious?”
“No, just to me. Because I’ve been there.” She met my parents; she would recognize the signs.
Idly, I fiddle with an M&M’s bag, feeling the round candies through the plastic. “How did you get out?”
“I figured out what I really wanted, and I started doing it.”
