Page 13 of Sweets and Sycamores

DON’T GIVE IT ANOTHER THOUGHT

After feeding her the most delicious pumpkin pie in what she could only describe as a religious experience, Dominic stopped talking to her again, and Allie had no intention of infringing on his space.

After closing up, she went to her studio room and wolfed down the sandwiches and fruit salad as a quick dinner.

Then she let her hair down, put on her jacket, grabbed the book on Witchcraft, and left, no sign of her boss on her way out.

It was her second time walking around Sycamore Falls, and with the appropriate clothing, she appreciated the feeling of cold air on her skin and in her lungs. Taking a deep inhale felt like breathing for the first time in a long time, as Pearls Fields’s heat left her wearied and drenched in sweat.

Dusk set over the tree-covered mountains that guarded the town, the beautiful, amber fall colors shimmering under the pink hue.

Leaves lined the sidewalk and the street like chocolate shavings on top of a pie.

How beautiful was Hallows Eve in this town?

Allie dreamed of the townhouses decorated with pumpkins and webs, the smell of apple cider donuts and cinnamon buns wafting through the streets.

She bet the moon was more powerful here that night.

With her power finally manifested, maybe she could try to carry on her mother’s Hallows Eve tradition of charging it with the moonlight.

Allie exhaled and wiped away those silly dreams from her mind. She’d be back with the Silverbarks by then, and they would perform the coven’s traditions and midnight rituals. Allie made a mental note to charge her stones in the moonlight before that night.

The road snaked closer to the river and the woods at the end of Maple Street.

Allie was searching for a secluded place close to the river so she could practice without an audience and within a safe distance of some water.

She did not want to hurt anybody. There was no doubt in her mind that she would be failing for a while before using her power with confidence.

Besides, even her coven sisters feared getting close to her during practice, and on the few times they stayed, she’d heard them mutter rude comments—unfortunately, most of them accurate—under their breath.

Petra had taught her that other people’s opinions didn’t define who she was.

Her mother had been right, but that didn’t make it easier to feel left out.

Allie followed the paved road long after she passed by the last building. In moments like this she missed her broom dearly, so she let the thought of getting it back be a match for her motivation. She just had to light it. Literally.

Allie carved away from the path and into the forest, following the gurgle of the river, the moon lighting her steps. She stumbled upon a small clearing on the edge of the flowing water, spacious enough to double as a sports field.

Perfect.

She sat cross-legged on the cold ground, close enough to the river to run the tips of her fingers through the water. Shivers wriggled up her arm at the contact with the freezing cold water, and she pulled her hand away. Good enough to put out any fire she might ignite.

Allie opened the book and read a few pages on power categories and manifestation—like she needed to be reminded that she’d manifested about twenty years later than the average Witch—and skipped the other elements until she got to fire.

She learned quickly that unused power tended to implode and cause impromptu flares through the Witch’s body.

These could only be controlled once the Witch’s power was mastered.

Which, in Allie’s case, it wasn’t, but now all her previous mishaps with randomly setting things on fire or excessive heating made sense.

She found solace in this explanation, knowing that what had happened to her was expected and that nothing was wrong with her.

The wave of relief at gaining this knowledge washed over her, lifting an invisible weight she carried in her soul.

She had no one to teach her, but her power was like anybody else’s.

A few pages later, she found the section on power control and was ready to dedicate a couple of days to each page under it.

“Find the source of power within your body. This is different for every Witch, and one can find it in the head, heart, core, or maybe someplace else in the body. Once identified, draw from it…” Allie muttered to herself, but stopped when she realized there was no point in going forward.

She had to find the source of the power in her body.

All right.

She could do that.

Allie closed the book and pushed it far enough away to make sure it wouldn’t become collateral damage. She scooted closer to the river, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

The power in my body. The power in my body. The power in my body.

Allie mentally scanned herself from head to toe, searching for…something. For the way this source of power would feel inside her. Hot, probably.

But she felt nothing.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried harder. Head, heart, core. Arms. Legs. Even toes. Eyebrows?

Nothing.

Allie tried and tried until she felt a headache coming on after looking for something she didn’t know how to find. Why didn’t the freaking book tell her exactly how to find this power source? It was mentioned as if it was a piece of cake, something that was probably innate for other Witches.

Not for her.

She growled and got to her feet, seeking revenge on the book, and angled it toward the river. Ugh. She would need the damn thing again.

“Fine. Keep your secrets.” She dropped it and scowled at the inanimate object, wondering if there was any spark of life hidden in it after Mia had sold it to her. Allie stuck her tongue out at the book in case there was.

A rustling sound halted her frustration, her senses perking up, ears straining to listen.

It came from the opposite side of the path that led her here, and Allie concluded this was enough for her first day of solo practice.

She snatched the traitorous book from the ground, tucked it under her arm, and dashed through the tall sycamores that she’d come through.

If she was in full control of her power, she would not have run away.

But in her current state, she didn’t want to risk anyone, or anything, finding her alone in the middle of the woods.

Allie raced back to the main road, lit up by the firefly soldiers, and only then did she pace herself.

She looked back every three steps to make sure she was alone until she reached the left turn onto Maple Street.

And knocked into someone in the middle of it.

“I’m so sorry,” she babbled, pressing the book to her chest over her galloping heart.

She took in the tall man who stood there, hands in his pockets, not a bother in the world.

The nearby lampposts shed eerie light over his sharp features and sandy blond hair.

Something about him reminded her of Sam.

“Is everything all right?” he asked in a grave voice that sounded like soft thunder. A wickedness shone in his eyes, and Allie quickly Read him to confirm the malevolent intent that hung around him like an obscure coat. This would have been a great moment to have her broom and fly far, far away.

“Yeah. Sorry for running into you,” Allie said and walked around him. She took two steps away from him before he spoke again.

“Are you lost?”

“I’m all right!” she shouted and sped up.

Fortunately, the man didn’t follow her, and when she worked up the courage to look back, Allie saw his retreating form. Maybe she was a bit paranoid, and that little bit of magic she controlled with Reading people was off. She should consider that, given how off everything else about her magic was.

Allie made it back to the bakery in record time.

The lights were off inside when she arrived, but the first-floor windows were lit up.

She slipped quietly into her room, tossed the book on the kitchen counter, and plopped down onto one of the bar stools.

The disappointment of her first practice day settled in, and she allowed herself a minute of wallowing.

A minute of wondering why she was the way she was, why her sisters didn’t help her, why her mother had left her alone, and why in the world she had wasted three years of her life with an idiot like Sam.

Allie shook off all the negative feelings, sighing loudly and pushing them out with the air. It was a coping mechanism her mom had shared when Allie was a young teen, and everything in the world was always wrong, hard, and against her. Not unlike now.

She fixed herself a bowl of warm soup, showered, and slipped under the covers with no book tonight.

Tomorrow will be better.

Dom woke up that morning with a pain in his shoulder, preventing him from lifting his arm. He hissed while pulling a white T-shirt over his head and swore through his teeth when he wasn’t able to gather his hair into a bun. Jeans had been fun to put on, too.

“Fucking hell,” he cussed under his breath. This muscle blockage happened sometimes, but it usually didn’t make him feel like he wanted to strangle somebody. Today was going to be a fun day dealing with so many people.

And with his new employee.

Alecsandra had stolen his secluded place in the forest last night.

He’d seen her sit so close to the river that he wondered how she hadn’t just slid in.

She’d been out there alone with a book, at night, in the middle of an unfamiliar place.

Sycamore Falls was safe—especially because Dom was there—but she had no way of knowing that.

Her frustrated reaction told him she had unsuccessfully tried to practice her magic.

Was that the reason she sat so close to the river? What had she gone through to make her so cautious?