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Safely, because of the unknown territory into which I’m still tiptoeing here.
Safely,because it really has been just two days of lessons. Because maybe last night’s success really was a mere fluke, aided by Hecate’s presence as well as Maximus’s and Arden’s efforts with waylaying Rerek.
Safely, because even the goddess of magic herself doesn’t know what she’s dealing with in training me. But I’m certain that it’s not because of my human DNA on top of my witch blood. Marie, Aradia, Kiama, and Liseli—probably even Morgana—were all mortal at one time and are fine now.
Undoubtedly, Hecate’s more concerned about how my demon blood is influencing things.
A thought that, at the moment, screws with more than the plasma and platelets in my veins. The circuits in my brain are frantically flaring, and not with more admiration for the pastoral scene around us. Not this time.
What if…I’m still screwed here?
What if Hades surrendered me so easily to Hecate because he knew he’d eventually get me back? What if my demon DNA still ties me to hell, even by a thin thread? What if the goddess is aware of that too and is trying to prepare me better for that with all these witchy training sessions?
But who am I kidding about that?
Who areanyof us kidding?
“Perhaps we’re better discussing that over here.” Hecate’s suggestion, soft but concerned, is still a welcome one as she waves toward a pair of nearby boulders. “But also not until you’ve had some water. Circe, where are the canteens? She’s as pale as pearls.”
“I’m fine,” I protest. “But I’ll take the water anyway.”
Neither of them look to be in believing moods, especially as I chug half the contents of a canteen without stopping.
“Must be hotter than I thought,” I mumble. “But I’m ready to start again.” And then jog up my chin and square my shoulders. “So what’s the key for conquering this one?”
Because contemplating some long and crazy leaps across a meadow longer than a football field is way better than pondering when Hades might bend the rules and snatch me back again. And this time, there won’t be a grimoire on hand to help me out of that awful dungeon.
Unfortunately, Hecate’s had much more practice with her determined stance game. “I think, perhaps, this lesson is best saved for another day,” she professes without a hitch.
But for all the certainty of her words, there’s separate energy in her spirit. Feelings she can’t veil from me because they’re so fresh. A little frustration. A lot more disappointment.
“I think we can get it done today,” I blurt back in an eager rush. But not the good kind of gusto. I’m pushing it out in desperation, the same sticky stuff I used to drag out with Mother. Back in the days when her opinion still mattered so much.
Too much.
No. This is different. It has to be. Hecate is nowhere near the same plane of existence as Mother. So why am I regressing like this? Could it have some Freudian tie to what happened yesterday morning? And if I’m realizing that with basic logic, why is my psyche allowing all my old tactics back in?
I’m better than that. Differentthan that. I have to be, for myself and for everyone here who believes in me. Especially these two incredible females. The ones who believe I’m a diamond of Iremia already. I have to show them that I can conjure—and control—the bigger stuff.
I won’t freak out the kids on the playground either anymore.
I’m good enough.
I’m good enough.
I’m good en—
“Ifgetting it doneapplies to a pizza run for lunch, then I’m totally in.”
It takes me a long couple of seconds to snap my head up and around, riveting my gaze on the new arrival to our meadow.
“Just when a girl thinks she’s safe from the sonar sibling…”
I trail it on purpose, hoping my tone will catch up with my sarcastic words. But Jaden’s expression conveys that failure. I’m still too deep in my weird mire, craving every drop of my teacher’s approval.
This isnotme. It never has been. So what crazy rabbit hole have I fallen into?
I have no workable answer for that. But, at least for the moment, I’m not alone in the hole. A longer look at my little brother confirms it.
