A Witch's Magic by H.T. Night

Author:H.T. Night
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

I spent a quiet week at home, secluded away with all my new (old and dusty) books.

Apart from work, of course—I wished I could just take some time away from my tedious job!

But alas, a girl has got to pay rent.

I did, however, spend the week away from all of my pressing decisions and the people

surrounding them. No Paris or Abigail. No Robert or Donovan. Instead, I spent all of my free

time with Emotional Magic: Expanding the Power of You Mind and The Secrets of Black

Magic: Power and Strength Beyond Compare.

I was learning so much about myself. I was beginning to draw power from different

sources in order to increase my physical and mental strength. The key, much like Abigail had

said, was to pull energy from other things and, instead of giving anything in return, simply

channeling that energy into different parts of my own body. By the end of the week, almost all

of the bushes in my backyard were dead—but I had increased my physical endurance as well as

my ability to focus and learn. And I still had eight books left to go through.

By the end of the week, I was also chomping on the bit to get out of my house and

socialize. Which is why I was super excited when Robert called on Thursday night, inviting me

out to dinner the following evening.

Considering the way in which I had spent the majority of my week, I really shouldn’t

have been surprised that the topic of magic came up soon after we’d ordered our dinner. I didn’t

mean to, but I end up telling Robert about my dilemma and the pull I felt towards dark magic.

“It’s like I can’t connect with magic the way Paris is teaching it. I want to. I really do.

But I feel like I’m working so much harder with way less results. With dark magic, it’s just…

easy. It’s like I don’t even really have to work. The power just channels through me.”

Robert listened intently as I unloaded everything I’d been going through for the past few

weeks—all of my struggles and concerns. The server was taking our empty dinner plates away

by the time I finally fell quiet. I told him about Paris and Abigail, about my trips to the

bookstore, and about my struggle to choose between good and black magic. I love the way he

maintained eye contact, never making me feel judged for being drawn to dark magic. He took a

few minutes to study me, smiling sweetly with soft understanding eyes, before he replied.

“I definitely understand how you feel,” he began. “To be honest, I felt the same way. I

wanted so badly to practice magic the way that Paris does—to restore balance and be a force

for good in the world. But I just couldn’t connect to things the way she could. I was just…

drawn to black magic. I guess my experience was similar to yours.”

“But you don’t practice any magic now?” I questioned.

“No. Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“I just… I didn’t feel good about practicing black magic. In no way am I trying to make

a judgment call for you, but for me it just seemed wrong.

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