Page 19 of Extraordinary Quests for Amateur Witches

The back of Kieran’s throat burned as he left Hattie’s and stormed toward the woods, letting the trees swallow him until he was out of sight. He grasped the breathing device in one hand and held his other in a fist at his side.

Don’t cry, he chided himself, even as the tears slid from the corners of his eyes. Don’t you remember what Father used to say? Pelumbra men are the brave ones. Not the ones who cry the second someone doubts them.

He swiped a sleeve across his face. Ahead of him, the lake had gone deceptively placid.

The two boats floated, unmoving, in the calm water.

Most of the mercenaries had been able to get back onto them.

Two of them were shouting about whether to follow the spirit into the water, while a third man refused to so much as touch the lake again.

For now, it seemed, the spirit had elected to lie in wait.

Good, Kieran thought, gripping the breathing device. Gives me time to attune to this. Then I’ll make Briar eat her words.

Near the edge of the water, Kieran stopped.

He looked down at the device, holding it with both hands.

It seemed simple enough. He could feel a spark of magic already in it—it was like a wick, and he merely needed to provide the flame.

It should be easy. He didn’t even have to cast a true spell, just tap into the well of magic in his chest and channel it.

So simple. Any witch could do it.

So why couldn’t he, no matter how hard he focused, seem to be able to summon anything but more tears?

Kieran’s fingers tightened around the device.

His hands had begun to shake. Briar’s face hung in his mind’s eye, staring him down as if he was the most useless creature alive.

Not far behind was Ash, shaking his head in disappointment, knowing full well that Kieran wouldn’t even be able to do this if he had ten more years of magical training.

His curse would never break, and he’d never take Kieran back.

Pathetic, useless—

“Kieran, wait.”

Kieran sniffled and looked up to find Sebastian jogging toward him, hair fluttering in the breeze. Kieran desperately tried to rub the tears out of his eyes, but it was useless. Even if he could stop them, his red face and sniffles would have been obvious.

“Briar’s right,” Kieran said, looking down at the device. “This was a terrible idea. I can’t even prove her wrong, because—because—”

“Take a breath,” Sebastian said plainly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

The warmth of it immediately made Kieran look up.

Sebastian continued, unfazed by Kieran’s tears, “If you want to do this, I can help. The spirit is hiding—if you can swim to it, I can distract Elias’s men.

You might be able to use this as an opportunity to surprise it and take the Hilt while it’s focused on the mercenaries. ”

“But my magic—” Kieran blubbered.

Sebastian squeezed his shoulder. Suddenly, his other hand was clasped over Kieran’s, heat from his palm pressing into Kieran’s skin. Kieran inhaled sharply. It was enough to make the tears stop.

“You’re panicking,” Sebastian said. He grasped Kieran’s hand tighter. “You just need to focus. Close your eyes and breathe with me. Understood?”

“I—I can’t—”

“You can.” Sebastian moved his other hand so both of his cradled Kieran’s. “Listen to me: Inhale for one…two…three…”

It took Kieran a second to really hear what Sebastian was saying over his panicked heartbeat.

His mind was moving a million miles an hour, the world around him nothing but an impressionist blur.

But then, slowly, he began to follow along.

One long inhale, hold it for three seconds, then exhale. Once, twice, three times.

“Now,” Sebastian said, “focus on your magic. Take a minute to find it, then really, really focus. Don’t rush.”

Kieran nodded, screwing his eyes shut. His thrumming pulse began to slow. The woods around them had gone quiet, as if even the birds were holding their breath. He focused on his breathing for a couple more seconds, then on feeling his magic.

When he’d tried to find it a moment ago, the feeling had been too subtle to grab hold of.

Now, though, Kieran could sense the tiniest spark of it deep in his chest. He let his head hang as he visualized giving the spark more oxygen, fanning it with enough force to feed it, but gently enough to keep it from slipping back into the void.

All the while, Sebastian held on to his hands, bowing his head toward Kieran’s so they were nearly touching.

The sensation was electric, skittering over Kieran’s skin with warmth.

When he opened his eyes, he found that his hands had begun to glow with subdued silvery light.

Sebastian smiled at him. “Well done.”

At those words, Kieran felt a zing of power rush through him, and the light coming off his hands glowed brightly, pulsating like a star come to life.

After a second, it shrank back, revealing the breathing device in his hands.

Now, though, Kieran could feel the magic within it as if it had come into focus after being nothing but a blur.

A smile broke across his face. “I-it worked!”

Sebastian gave Kieran’s hands one last squeeze before he let them go. “I knew it would. Now, Hattie has a boat tied up near the shore. I’ll row us to the center of the lake and drop you off as close to the spirit as I can. Then you get the Hilt, and I’ll hold off Elias’s men. Deal?”

“Deal.” Kieran gazed into Sebastian’s eyes, feeling a lightness in his body he hadn’t felt in a long time—something like courage.

“All right,” Sebastian said. “Let’s go.”

It didn’t take long for them to haul Hattie’s boat to the water and push off.

Sebastian held one oar in each hand, effortlessly paddling them toward the middle of the lake, where Elias’s men lay in wait.

He’d taken his jacket off to stay cool, revealing a black long-sleeved shirt that clung to his arms. Kieran did his best not to stare as his muscles flexed with each row.

Halfway to the center of the lake, the steam from the warm water below became a cloud of mist that got thicker by the moment.

“Do you think the spirit is doing this?” Kieran asked, watching as Elias’s boats became more and more obscured by the mist.

Sebastian shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know much about spirits.”

“Guess that makes two of us.”

The closer they got, the faster Kieran’s heart beat.

The breathing device hung around his neck, and he’d stripped down to his white undershirt and shorts.

The chill bit at his exposed skin, but the warmth coming off the lake negated some of it.

He rubbed the gooseflesh on his arms and worried at his lip.

Once they were a few yards from the other boats, Sebastian brought the boat to a stop.

This close, they could hear the mercenaries talking, but the men didn’t seem to have noticed their approach, thanks to the mist. Aside from the conversation, the only sound was the gentle lapping of the water against Kieran and Sebastian’s boat.

“One more thing,” Sebastian whispered. He took Kieran’s hand and pressed something into it.

Looking down, Kieran saw that it was a small ball of yellowish wax.

He cocked his head in confusion, and Sebastian said, “Beeswax. Use it to make earplugs before you go in. That way, if the spirit tries to lure you with its song, it’ll be easier to shut out. ”

Kieran pulled his hand back, meeting Sebastian’s dark eyes. “Smart. Thank you.”

Sebastian nodded. “Of course. Best of luck. I’ll take care of everything up here.”

I’ll take as much luck as I can get. “Appreciate that. I…guess I’ll be off, then.”

Sebastian nodded. “See you on the other side.”

Before he could allow his thoughts to unravel, Kieran balled up the wax, stuffed it in his ears, put on the mask, then slid out of the boat and into the lake.

It swallowed him whole.

As soon as his eyes adjusted, he stared around in awe. The water was crystal clear and warm. Instantly, the tension melted away, and he kicked forward. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and inhaled, ready for the water to fill the breathing device and send him into a coughing fit.

Nothing happened. He took a deeper breath, and all he got was air.

That’s a relief, Kieran thought. Drowning would be an inglorious way to die after all this.

He kicked and descended deeper. The bottom of the lake seemed miles away, growing deeper and darker as the sun struggled to shine through.

The lakebed was rocky; the boulders were sharp and foreboding.

Massive green stalks of feathery kelp rose from the bottom, undulating with the gentle tide.

A few small brown fish darted in and out between them, reminding Kieran of birds in a forest—the kelp was thick enough, he realized, to constitute one.

At least it’s kind of pretty, he thought as he swam closer to the nearest patch of kelp, reaching out to touch a pale green frond. Hopefully it’s not all gross and slimy.

Upon running his finger over it, Kieran discovered that it was, in fact, very gross and slimy. He wrenched his hand back, shaking it out as if he’d touched a damp piece of food on a dish he was washing.

Never mind. I hate it here.

Kieran kept a steady pace, kicking toward the bottom. His arms and legs burned from the effort, and his breathing had become a bit heavier, but he was fine otherwise. So far, so good.

The water pressure grew stronger, and he felt it hammering on his eardrums. Still, he swam deeper, and the water grew warmer as he descended. A chill went up his spine—where in the world could the spirit be hiding?

Then he heard a whisper. “Stranger?”