Chapter Forty-One
“Which flight did you settle on? The late one arriving at Heathrow or the early one into Glasgow? We’ve got a lousy connection and I didn’t hear what you said.” Emma adjusted the speakers on her laptop. The Internet call connection wavered in and out, interrupting Laynie’s voice with static. The image on the screen flicked with gray-white specks. She could barely see the outline of Laynie’s face.
“I said don’t worry about it. I’ve made arrangements to fly all the way into Lewis.”
Anticipation shivered through Emma. She missed baby sister so much. “That’s fantastic. I can’t wait until you get here. Be sure to pack plenty of sweaters. The winter wind here cuts through you like a knife.”
The screen grayed out with static fuzz. The connection finally failed. Her cell phone vibrated, hopped across the counter, then burst into the irritating song Laynie had downloaded into it before Emma left. Emma grinned as she hit the talk button. Laynie would never sign off without having the last word. “Hello, Laynie.”
“Okay. What was the comment about the wind?” Laynie’s voice buzzed in her ear, the noise of a boisterous crowd, clinking glasses and loud music echoed in the background.
“Where are you? I thought you were at home. Did you take your laptop to a bar? Just because you’re over twenty-one doesn’t mean you have to go crazy when I’m not there to watch over you.” Emma tightened her grip on the phone, irritated protectiveness perked through every big sister sensor.
A heavy sigh rattled in her ear. She could just see Laynie rolling her eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Laynie,” she goaded in her bossiest voice.
That brought a giggled response. “I love you, sis, and I’ll be there in two weeks. Now stop being such a worrywart. You’re going to have to accept the fact that I’m grown. Your job is over.”
“I love you too, Laynie. Travel safe.” Emma swallowed hard against the knot of emotions closing off her throat as she clicked off the phone. Staring at the gadget in her hand, she wondered if she’d ever be able to do what Laynie said. She’d always watched out for Laynie—even before their parents died. She still remembered the day she’d first set eyes on the yowling, pink bundle Mother had settled onto her lap. As soon as she’d wrapped her spindly arms around the red-faced baby, the caterwauling stopped. Trusting blue eyes gazed up into hers. It didn’t matter that Laynie shared her parents’ bloodline and Emma didn’t. She and Laynie had bonded from the start.
Emma closed her eyes against the memory, against the renewed stinging of tears. She couldn’t stomach her newly discovered destiny of either watching Laynie grow old and die or losing little sister forever when she traveled to another reality. Torin’s words echoed in her mind. He’d promised never to leave her alone. Her heart swelled and unshed tears ached in her throat. Could she really trust him? Everyone else she’d ever loved always left her, whether by choice or by chance. If she took that step and opened to Torin, could she handle it if he disappeared too?
She closed the laptop and rubbed the warm surface of the machine as though wishing a genie out of a magic lamp. That’s what she needed. A magic genie. Emma snorted out a bitter laugh. In essence, wasn’t a genie what Torin was? And what about her own magic?
Emma stared at her fingertips. Magic. How could this strange power really be possible? The memory of the spirit walk among the stars pushed all other thoughts out of her mind. And what about the day she’d fended off the glob of flying sheep pellets? Emma rubbed her fingertips together, startled when an eerie tingle rippled up through both hands. Slowly turning while still rubbing the tips of her fingers against her thumbs, Emma spied the over-flowing basket of peat bricks squatting beside the hearth. I wonder… She narrowed her eyes and focused on the uppermost chunk of peat balanced on the top of the pile. Emma stretched her right hand out toward the peat and tensed with concentration. Nothing.
She stared at the end of her outstretched hand pointed toward the hearth. Why didn’t her so-called magic work whenever she pulled the trigger? Maybe she wasn’t focused enough or maybe…could it be...she focused too hard? Isn’t that what Mom had always said? Clear your mind, Em, and believe in yourself. If you do that, you’ll never fail at whatever you’re trying to do. The key is to believe. Her mother’s long ago mantra echoed from long buried memories, triggering a shiver across her flesh. Had Mom known about the magic and just never said anything about it? How much had her parents found out about her heritage when they’d brought her home from the adoption center?
Emma cleared her mind with a slow, deep breath, closed her eyes and stretched out her hand again. She could do this. The energy was there. The intensity of this strange blessing tingled through her and pulsed into an increasing sting the longer she held her breath. She opened her eyes and focused every powerful feeling she’d ever had on the innocent brick of peat.
The basket of black bricks exploded into a choking cloud of debris. Miniscule chunks of turf whizzed past Emma’s head and bounced against the wall. As the smoke cleared, Emma tucked her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans and stared at the scorch marks on the stones of the hearth where the basket once sat.
Holy shit. So that’s what magic felt like.