Curse of the Witching Hour by Sarina Dorie

Author:Sarina Dorie [Dorie, Sarina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781709143304
Publisher: amazon.com
Published: 2019-12-25T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Seeing the Forest for the Tree Nymphs

Gertrude Periwinkle’s technique for divining the present wasn’t the same as Clarissa’s, but her magic was no less impressive.

Gertrude was a Celestor and a skilled one at that. She took Lucifer to the roof of the school, where she could be closer to the stars, and fueled herself with their magic to power her abilities of divination. He was surprised she would dress down to her undergarments at a school for at-risk youth, but her knee-length knickers and chemise were probably less scandalous than what humans wore in the Morty Realm with their modern sensibilities.

Lucifer watched in awe as she drew down starlight and absorbed it into her skin. The air tasted buttery and bright, and she glowed with the power of the cosmos. As she seated herself across from him and poured water into a puddle between them, she conjured an image of Abigail through a combination of clairvoyance and divination.

He stared into the puddle, examining the gloomy landscape of shadowy trees shown in the vision. The twisting towers of an ominous castle rose out of the forest in the distance. He supposed this was the Raven Queen’s castle. The spindly branches of trees emerged out of pockets of mist as Gertrude’s scrying technique panned through the trees. He expected the scene would shift to the dungeon or someplace in the castle where Abigail was being held, but it didn’t. The vision scanned through the trees.

Gertrude’s forehead crinkled. She held her hands over the puddle, starlight drifting from her fingertips into the vision, but it didn’t change to the interior of the castle. The perspective only panned around a particular set of trees. Most of them were barren, as though at rest in a winter slumber, but one still had some leaves on it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s working,” Gertrude said.

Lucifer squinted at the tree with oak leaves. “Can you focus on that tree?”

Gertrude pulled at threads of magic and reeled in the image as though it were nothing more than a photograph on the end of a string. Lucifer inhaled the scent of decaying leaves and wet earth from the forest floor. This tree smelled of oak pitch and spring. The air around it tasted of Abigail’s magic.

“Is that . . . ?” Gertrude bit her lip.

His voice came out a rasp. “This is impossible.”

“Magic is at work with that tree, an Amni Plandai affinity.” She carefully avoided saying it was Abigail, as if afraid of what that could mean.

It had been years since Abigail had changed into a tree. She’d had full command of her powers then, back before Lucifer’s electrical affinity had accidentally drained her. Yet in recent years her magic had slowly returned—in part due to his influence. The same Red affinity that could disable other Witchkin’s magic when actively used—and in large doses—could also draw out the magic of Fae and Witchkin in small quantities.

If Abigail’s Amni Plandai magic had been drawn out—by a Red affinity

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