Page 29

Claire lets out a low curse to my left, dropping her hands in frustration.

We’ve just poured every ounce of our energy into this spell, and what lays on the table in the center of the room is exactly the right color for Amanzite, but instead of a stone, it’s an oozing, goopy mess that spreads out over the center of the table.

“Huh,” one of the other casters says, lowering her head and breathing in. “Smells like butterscotch.”

Claire stalks away from the table, working her hands, massaging her wrists. While I’ve been throwing all my power into the casting, Claire is the one who’s been guiding the metaphorical bus, steering us in the direction we need to go.

“Hey,” I say, dropping a hand onto her back. “Take a breather. It’s okay. What we’re attempting here it’s…it’s a lot.”

Through her hands, Claire says, “I just with I could get this right. It’s like—it’s like I just—I’ve held the Amanzite, and we’ve broken it open, but I feel so disconnected from it. Like I can’t nail what it is that makes up the structure—”

I suck in a breath so quickly that she snaps up, looking around, worried.

“No, sorry,” I say, breathless, my hand on my chest. “Fuck, Claire I just—I think I just had an idea for how we can do this right!”

She blinks. “You did?”

Some of the other casters are looking over at us, their curiosity piqued.

“Forgive me for prying,” I say, crouching down so I’m eye-to-eye with her. “You’re not a shifter, are you?”

“No,” she shakes her head. I didn’t think so. Most casters are non-shifters, and shifters who can cast are extremely rare. Sarina isn’t old enough for her first shift, but given her abilities, I doubt she’ll be able to.

But I can shift. I don’t do it very often, not wanting to use my gems in the camp for shifting. But I can—and that might just be the thing that can get us closer to this.

“We need a shifter to help guide us to the right structure,” I say, straightening up and starting to pace. “We can swap, Claire. I’ll try guiding the spell, and you—”

But Claire is standing, shaking her head. “No, Veva. We need you for that power. If you’re guiding it, you won’t be able to push that power into the spell.”

“I can do it.”

I startle, turning to find Sarina standing beside an armchair, looking at us with wide eyes. Her book lies face down on the arm of the chair behind her.

“No,” I say, shaking my head, but she takes another step, holding her hands up.

“I want to help,” she says, her brow wrinkling. “I know how to put my power into a spell—you taught me.”

Claire gives her a sympathetic look. “That’s very nice of you, honey, but we’re going to need a lot more power than that. Your powers won’t crest until you’re much, much older.”

I open my mouth, but the door opens and Emin comes walking in, looking breathless, harried. His eyes skip from me, then to Sarina, and the expression on his face calms.

“What is it?”

My hackles rise. I don’t like the way he walked in here, like something might be wrong. Like he needed to make sure we were okay.

“It’s fine,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s okay—”

“Emin.”

His eyes meet mine, and I hold his gaze for a second, willing him to tell me the truth. He sighs, pulls me to the side.

“Dorian and I came across something…interesting. During our hunt. And we’re dealing with it, but I wanted to make sure the two of you were okay.”

He gives me a look that says, I can tell you more later, but not here .

Fine. I nod back, turn to go back to what we were doing, but another idea comes to mine.

“Emin.” He stops at the sound of my voice, turns back to me, eyebrows raised.

“What?”

Ten minutes later, we’re arranged around the casting table. Group casting doesn’t normally require holding hands, but in order to loop Emin into this, we need physical touch. Sarina insisted she wanted to participate, so she and I bracket him, holding his hands in ours.

“We’re going to push our power toward you,” Claire explains. “I’ll do most of the steering, but I’m going to channel it through you.”

“And you want me to…?”

“Think about the Amanzite. Picture it. Imagine that connection you have with it when you’re shifting—all that stuff. The goal is to get as close to the real thing as we can.”

Emin lets out a thin breath. “I’ll do my best. No promises.”

“I have a feeling this is going to work,” Claire says, nodding and taking Sarina’s hand in hers. “Alright—let’s begin.”

Closing my eyes, I let my power rise to the surface of my skin, like water coming to a boil. I gather it up, channel it, push it toward Emin and Claire.

We’ve been doing our best each time with this, but this time is clearly different. Every other time, Claire has been busy guiding the ship, but now, with her full power, we’re buoyed, far more ability to take the spell where we want to go.

The caster to my left whispers a quick, surprised, “ Wow .”

It’s what we’re all feeling. I throw everything in me into this spell, pushing, pushing.

My maternal instincts call on me to open my eyes, to make sure Sarina is okay, but I can’t—I won’t interrupt the spell by pulling my attention away.

I can only hope that including her was the right decision, and that she has the discipline necessary to stay keyed into the spell.

The magic rises and falls inside the room like flood water, leaving us all gasping for air and boneless when it pulls away again.

And when I open my eyes, the table is heaped with a pile of synthetic gems.

“Did we…?” one of the casters asks, eyes wide.

“They look imbued,” Claire says, nodding. Usually, procuring the Amanzite is the first step of the process. After that, that casters imbue it with magic. These stones sparkle with trapped energy—showing that they’re already imbued.

Not only did we create the gems from thin air, but we managed to infuse magic directly into them during the process. I’ve never been a part of the Amanzite management system, but I imagine that would greatly cut down on time.

“Woah,” Emin says, eyes wide as he reaches forward, picking up one of the gems and holding it between his finger and thumb. “This looks so much like the real thing. It’s—wow.”

Claire braces herself against the table, her arm visibly shaking with the effort. Several of the other casters have sat down right on the floor, and are taking tiny, quick sips from their drinks.

“Care to give it a shot?” Claire asks, gesturing toward it with a trembling hand. “It looks right—the last test is to see if a shifter can use it.”

Emin looks skeptical, but grips the stone tightly in his hand, closing his eyes and stepping back from the table. I glance at Sarina, who is looking on in total awe.

I’ve only shifted in front of her a handful of times, and she’s so curious about everything. If the Amanzite works, Emin will be able to shift painlessly, then shift back still wearing his clothes, holding all his possessions. The magic within the stone will allow it.

The first time I saw a shifter change forms, it felt like an optical illusion. But now, having done it several times myself, I see each part of it, the concentration, the movements, the transition from one form to the other.

As simple as sitting down, once you know how to do it.

“Woah,” Sarina whispers.

She’s seen me shift before—but I’m an omega. My wolf is small, coming just above her shoulder. But Emin…Emin is a force to be reckoned with, his raised head higher than mine, his exhalation like that of a horse. The presence of a larger being.

Then, in a matter of seconds, he shifts back, blinking at the stone in his hand.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs. Then, raising his eyes to mine, he shines with pride as he says, “You actually did it.”