Page 3 of Wooing the Wiccan (Elf Magic #1)

CHAPTER THREE

Jared

If somebody had asked me last year—just two months ago—if I’d be attending regular workshops on using magic, I would have laughed hard enough to end up with a pinched nerve (that’s actually something that happens when you’re in your forties, as I discovered the hard way).

After all, magic is personal. It’s ritual, a communication with nature and the god and goddess.

It’s not something you can learn in a classroom.

Yet here I am, fully willing to admit how wrong I was.

I might have been skeptical at that first session, but I can’t deny that the last couple of months have put me closer in contact with my own spirituality and the essence of the world than I’ve ever been.

Pete, our guide—it seems foolish to call him a teacher when he insisted from the beginning that he’s just here to give us more confidence as we learn—has been very open about using magic to feel more connected to the world and wanting to help others do the same.

During the information session, he spoke in detail about how, while our inner magic can’t be used to actively harm, it can be manipulated to do so indirectly.

He didn’t outright say it, but I inferred that was why he and his fellow volunteers only contact people who’ve been personally referred to them, rather than advertising on a wider scale.

Do no harm is one of the edicts I live my life by, but not everyone in the world feels the same, and given what I’ve learned to use magic to do, I can see how it would be easy for someone to weaponize it.

I use magic fire to light candles, but someone else might use it to start a forest fire—or set a building alight.

I stroll into the room at the community center where our weekly sessions are held and glance toward the front to say hi to whoever’s filling in for Pete tonight. They’ve all been great, and I’m glad Pete’s spending time with his newborn, but I’ll be…

…

…huh.

I trip over my own feet and grab the nearest table to save myself from ending up on the floor.

“Whoa! You okay, Jared?” Lynn, one of the other attendees, asks, and heat floods my cheeks.

“Yes, fine. I’m so sorry. I put my foot down wrong.” It’s partly true, but I’m not going to say the rest out loud. I’m embarrassed enough without adding, “Because I want to lick that man all over. Our teacher for today? He can teach me anything he wants.” No. Nope.

But damn, I’d forgotten how long it’s been since I had sex, and one look at the man leaning against the table up the front has brought all my needs and urges to the fore.

Gathering what’s left of my pride, I slide into my usual seat before looking back toward the man who’s definitely going to be the star of all my future fantasies. “Hi. I’m Jared.”

His mouth is curved into a smile, but somehow I know he’s not laughing at me.

Taking a moment to actually absorb the details of his face, I concede that he’s never going to get work as a model.

He’s not classically attractive—his lips are too thin, his nose a little larger than what most consider aesthetically pleasing.

His hair is dark blond and long enough to be pulled into a braid that’s hanging over one shoulder.

The neat, silky- looking beard that hugs his jaw is a shade darker, and his eyes are a warm gray.

He seems older than he looks, though I can’t say why.

Overall, I’m not sure what it is about him that makes me want to beg him to take me home and keep me, but my instincts are only saying good things about him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jared,” he says, and of course he has to have a nice voice too, and a sexy accent, because the goddess didn’t already bless him with enough. “I’m Raeulfr.”

Welp, I found a problem with my plan for us to spend eternity together. I can’t pronounce his name.

I sometimes run into this issue with my students, but usually I have the class list ahead of time and can google how to pronounce unfamiliar names, so that on the first day, I at least have a shot at getting it close.

That’s not an option here—my ears heard what he said, but my brain doesn’t know how to process it.

“I’m so sorry, I’m not familiar with that name and I really want to get it right. Could you say it again, more slowly?”

His smile doesn’t change, and I hope that means I haven’t offended him. “Of course. Thank you for asking. It’s Raeulfr.” He slows it down, but I still don’t quite catch it, and I’m wondering if I dare ask again when he breaks it into syllables, “Roh-low-lish.”

Ohhh. I can say that. I repeat it, but somehow it sounds different. Maybe it’s the accent? He doesn’t seem upset, though.

“Excellent.”

“It’s not quite right,” I apologize, and his smile widens.

“You’re close, and you’re trying. I appreciate that effort.”

God and goddess, could he be more perfect? I open my mouth, probably to ask if he wants me to be his sex toy, but thankfully I’m interrupted when three more people enter.

Raeulfr lingers for a moment, then turns to greet them, and I exhale deeply.

“Wow,” Lynn murmurs beside me.

“I know.”

“Thanks for asking about the name, by the way. I was definitely not going to get it right. I still might not.”

I make an agreeing noise, and she leans closer.

“He has the most beautiful aura of anyone I’ve ever seen. Do you see it?” she whispers.

I can’t see auras the way she can, but I know exactly what she means. “Yeah. There’s something about him.” And I don’t just mean whatever it is that’s causing my sexual attraction to him.

Finally, everyone’s arrived and settled, and Raeulfr straightens and bestows that gorgeous smile on us all.

“I think you’ve all heard me introduce myself already, but in case you didn’t, my name is Raeulfr and I’m filling in for Pete tonight.

I haven’t met his daughter myself, but I’ve been told she’s the sweetest baby and that Pete is completely in love with her—just as he should be. ”

There are a few awws, and I wonder if, when Pete comes back, we can talk him into bringing his daughter to meet us. I adore kids of all ages, but there’s something special about the tiny ones.

“I’m given to understand that you’ve all been working independently, but if there’s anything I can help with or if you have any questions, just let me know.”

Henry, a young witch who grew up in a Wiccan family, half raises his hand. “I want to try gathering moisture for the first time. Could you watch me? I’d feel more confident that way.”

Lynn elbows me, muffling a snicker. Henry’s never lacked confidence in his life that I can tell—but he has flirted with every man to walk into this room. I try not to glare at the back of his head. It’s not his fault he’s attracted to Raeulfr.

We all break off to do our own thing, some people pairing up. I’ve done that a few times—it’s interesting to see the way our magic can work in tandem or play off each other—but tonight I’m concentrating on mastering a new skill.

I’m pretty good at moving small objects and creating fire, and I’ve managed to gather moisture from the air a few times, though it’s something I definitely need to practice.

Next on my list, however, is manipulating air.

We were all kind of surprised by how far down it was on the list we were given, but Pete just laughed and invited us to try it.

We failed. All of us. Air is barely tangible, and it’s not easy to work with something you can’t get hold of.

Pete suggested we master some of the other magics first, to give ourselves experience with using it before tackling air.

He was right—creating fire was exhausting the first time I did it, but now it’s as easy as a thought.

I can even juggle tiny fireballs, though I’ve only done it in class to practice.

It’s not practical or necessary in the real world.

So now that I have a better grasp on how to use magic and how I use magic—because apparently it’s slightly different for everyone—I want to push myself to achieve more.

I close my eyes and take a deep, cleansing breath, then another, allowing the movement of the breath through my body to center me.

From the moment Pete said meditation was a key part of learning magic, I knew I could trust what he was telling us.

Magic is part of our connection with the world, part of the gift we’re given by the god and goddess.

Of course our ability to use it needs to come from deep inside us.

It only takes a moment for me to feel the rush of energy throughout my body—my inner life force, carried to every part of me by my blood.

I widen my sensory awareness and feel the way the energy in me ebbs and flows with the energy of nature, surrounding me.

The life force of the world, so to speak—though I’d never say that out loud.

Next, I visualize what I want to do—air isn’t exactly visible, so it’s probably easiest if I try to use my other senses.

A tickle of breeze on the back of my hand, perhaps.

I think about how that would feel, cementing the concept of it in my mind.

I’ll even leave my eyes closed, so I’m not tempted to rely on them and potentially miss other sensory input.

The final step is the spell. For small magics and ones I’m very familiar with, I don’t always use a spoken spell, but with something new or big or important, it’s helpful and respectful to use words to shape and focus my intent. Barely moving my lips, I whisper,

“Breath of life, breath sublime,

Stir the air, dance softly.

A gentle touch, a tiny eddy,

Breath of life, move for me.”

I’ll never make it as a poet, but the words themselves don’t necessarily matter—it’s the intent that speaking a spell creates.

But my intent clearly needs more direction, because the air doesn’t respond.

Shaking off my disappointment, I open my eyes. It’s fine. I knew this was going to take me a while to get the hang of. I’ll give myself a moment and then try again.

And again.

And again.

On my fifth attempt, it’s harder to let go of my frustration. I should be feeling something by now, the tiniest touch of air.

“Hello again.”

I look up into solemn gray eyes and wish the spell had worked so I could have shown off for Raeulfr. It’s childish and ridiculous, but I wish it all the same.

“Hi. Uh, are you having a good time?” Mentally, I kick myself. At least Lynn’s too busy with her spell to laugh at me right now.

Raeulfr nods. “I am, actually. It’s delightful to see you all discovering this part of yourselves.”

That gives me a warm little feeling. “How was it for you?” I ask impulsively. “When you first learned.”

He makes a humming sound and slides into the chair beside me.

“I can barely remember; it was so long ago. I felt… It was like all my life I’d been hearing music from afar.

It was muffled, unclear, but still beautiful.

And then as I learned spellcraft, the music became clearer and clearer, until I was standing in the midst of the most amazing symphony.

” He grimaces. “The actual learning part was frustrating. It still is—whenever I try a new spell, I feel as though a door slams closed between me and the music, and I have to work to get it open all over again. It’s worth it, though. ”

“It is,” I agree, though my smile is rueful. “That’s a great analogy. I like it a lot more than mine, which is that I’m shackled and can’t use magic until I get myself free.”

A tiny frown flickers over his face. “Do you feel shackled by your life?” he asks quietly, surprising me.

“No. I mean… not really. No.”

He watches me steadily and says nothing. I blow out a breath. “Not shackled, exactly. I have a good life that I love. There are some things that are still out of reach, but hey, that’s normal, right?” I chuckle, but even to me it sounds forced. Definitely not putting my best foot forward tonight.