Aiden steps forward and yanks out a couple of his hairs, offering them to me. “Where do I put them?”
I could kiss him right now for showing me support, except I don’t want to make a spectacle out of myself in front of all his people. I hold out a small ceramic bowl, and he drops the hair inside. Then he presses a quick but hard kiss on my lips and walks back to his spot in the circle.
Jack joins me next, bringing several strands of his brown hair. “Will this do?”
“How many did you rip out?” I gasp, looking at the hairs. “I only need one.”
He grins and drops them in the bowl. “Better safe than sorry.”
He gives me a kiss on the cheek and makes way for Ty, who doesn’t say anything, just gives me a beautiful, loving smile and a scorching kiss that has me wishing we were alone. My cheeks radiate heat as the rest of the villagers make their way toward me one by one. A mother gently pulls a hair from her four-year-old’s head while he howls with indignation, and even baby Amelie’s gets added to the bowl.
The last villager returns to their spot in the circle, and I take a deep breath. I hold out a hand to Ty because he’s always the easiest to start with.
“Wait,” says Maya. “You haven’t added yours.”
I open my mouth and close it again. She’s right. I haven’t. “I don’t have to,” I tell her. “I’m creating the spell so I’ll always be able to pass through it.”I hope.
Mrs. Hobb motions at me. “You should do it anyway.”
“Yeah,” Jack’s father calls out. “You’re staying here, right?”
I am. This is my home.
My throat closes up, and I press my lips together to keep from crying, but my eyes still water when I go to pluck a single short hair from my head. They can’t know how much this means to me. That they’re offering freely to make a place for me in their community.
Then I look at Miss Georgia’s wry smile, and I realize that maybe they do.
The world blurs for a moment until I can pull myself together. I inhale through my nose and let out a long breath through my mouth.There.
Ty opens up for me, and I take a scoop of his brilliant yellow magic. I turn to Aiden next, then Jack, adding their power to my own well of energy, that shimmering, calm pool that I’ve come to love so much in the recent months. One by one, the villagers walk up to me and offer some small, intangible portion of themselves for our cause.
This kind of spell has never been done before, not with the unique melding of tech and dragon magic. Apprehension grows in the pit of my stomach with every minute that I hold on to the vast amount of power now resting inside me. The Norwegian village that Aiden told me about, the one with a massive barrier spell, was protected by a witch who died in the process. And she hadn’t even tried to invent a new kind of spell like I’m doing here. I donotwant to die today.
When we come full circle and I collect a scoop of magic from Juniper, who stands right beside Ty, I am so filled with light I can barely keep it all contained. I feel like an overflowing cup, about to start spilling magic all over the place.
Hurry.
Instinct guides me as I kneel on the wet, cold ground and bring my laptop closer. The bowl of hair—which is kind of gross now that I think about it—rests beside me, ready to be used. First, I release a tiny burst of my own magic into the code, firing up the wireless network spreading through the village. Then, muttering a carefully worded spell that most five-year-old witches can manage, I set the hair alight.
The acrid scent of burning hair reminds me unpleasantly of Cameron’s attack, and I barely resist the urge to touch the back of my neck, where my hair was almost completely burned off. The skin there has healed, but the phantom pain remains.
Focus.
I feel the weight of a hundred stares as I begin fueling the dragons’ magic into my spell. Rather than creating one giant dome over the entire area, I focus on the hubs where the technology offers me support, and build on them as though the wireless network is the concrete foundation for my conjuring. Brick by magical brick, I bring the wall higher, creating a barrier that no one but the villagers will be able to breach.
The sensation is exhilarating. So. Much. Power. It flows through me in a river of shimmering white light, and like before, I wish I could show the dragons how beautiful it is. How their essence is helping create a safe space for the clan.
I’m more than halfway through when the magical store inside me starts drying up. Reaching out, I wordlessly ask for more magic, and the dragons help out. I refuse those who don’t have much to give, but there are many strong people here, and the supply seems almost limitless. I’m panting with the effort, gritting my teeth, but I’m nearly there. This spell needs to be the best ever created, because the lives of so many people are at stake. Maybe an entire species is in danger. The responsibility is overwhelming, yet I keep pushing through.
With an agonized yell, I rip magic from my own reserves to seal the spell and tie it to the technology, then scream the final words of the protection spell into the sky.
And with that, it’s done.
I collapse onto all fours, hanging my head. Wet, dead grass squelches between my fingers. The cold air sears my lungs, but every breath is a gift. The spell is finished, and I survived.
I willnevertell the guys that I wasn’t actually sure whether the magic would kill me or not. There was no way to be sure since this idea is one of a kind, and they never would have let me do it if they knew. I mean, I was reasonably sure everything would turn out okay, but with the magic of a hundred or so mythological creatures coursing through me, it was impossible to tell.
Strong hands grip my shoulders, and I stagger to my feet. Jack is beside me, holding me up. His steadfast presence is exactly what I need. Tiredness sweeps through me, but not exhaustion—I didn’t push myself too far for once. With his help, I manage to shuffle over to the salt barrier, thank the elements and the goddess, and open up the circle.
