Cherie Colyer - Hold Tight

I figured if I got caught with the little ironclad book, I’d ask him for forgiveness. Really, in the whole scheme of the universe, what was one little spell?

My six-year-old brother and I were home alone, and he was in the family room, engrossed in his favorite cartoon. Dad was stuck at work, again, but tonight that would be to my advantage because I needed privacy to cast the spell.

I grabbed a cereal bowl from the cabinet next to the refrigerator, filled it with a bottle of spring water, and dropped in three acorns and three dried rose petals. One last glance at the incantation, and I was ready. With my hands held palms-up in front of me, I spoke in a low whisper so as not to attract Chase’s attention:

From here to there and nowhereneverwhere

Through Cometime and space and ethereal

I call to thee Sanctus majestic

Reedsnap, [Dellis, Rhoswen]

A faint crackle like the crunch of dried leaves under dainty feet seemed to enter the kitchen through the open window. A weak pop-pop-swish slithered by me thereafter, and the sweet aroma of honeydew filled my nostrils. I spun around, expecting to see a bright-eyed faerie with sparkling cheeks and pointy little ears near the stove, but I was alone. I continued to read:

I beckon thee, come forth!

A soft swish-hum had me glancing around the kitchen again. A cool breeze stirred the curtains and rippled the water in the bowl. I hurried and closed the window, but then a quiet buzz traveled around the kitchen like an angry fly. For a moment, I could have sworn I smelled fresh-cut orchids, but when I inhaled, the air chilled my lungs, causing me to cough. No matter which direction I looked, no one was there.

“Finish it,” a disembodied voice whispered eagerly. It was hard to tell if it was female or male. I swallowed the trepidation that built inside me.

“Finish it,” dared the haunting voice.

When an icy chill clawed its way into my bones, I slammed the book shut.

“I changed my mind,” I whispered. “Go away.”

“You sure you’re concentrating?” Isaac’s voice was husky and sexy, making it completely and totally impossible to focus.

“Yes!” I lied. He’d only asked me that very question half a dozen times. I grew further and further from in control as I waited, and not so patiently either.

We stood facing each other in Isaac’s country-style kitchen with the hum of the microwave behind us and the murmur of the evening news coming from the family room. He brushed a few strands of hair away from my eyes, and his fingers lingered just behind my ear. Vanilla and spearmint encircled me—his powers. I breathed in deeply, loving the smell of him.

My hands rested on his hips. It took every ounce of restraint not to wrap my fingers around the hair at the back of his head and plant a kiss on his delicious lips. But, as usual, I was in as much control of my powers as my brother in the Hot Wheels aisle at the toy store.

He leaned closer. His warm breath tickled my ear when he spoke. “Madison, are you sure? I’ve been shocked enough for one day.”

I bit my lip. The sharp pain snapped me out of the euphoric state I’d been in and helped me rein in the lust screaming to take control. Breathe. In. Out.

Over a month had passed since I’d embraced the powers, and I was no better at pulling them inside me than I had been that fall day at the top of the lighthouse. While quick pecks were nice, I wanted more—I got the feeling Isaac did too—and I didn’t understand why this was so hard for me. I could light a hundred candles with a glance or throw up a magical shield effortlessly. But taming my powers—keeping them under lock and key so that I could really kiss my boyfriend—seemed beyond my abilities.

The sooner I mastered my powers, the sooner Isaac and I could kiss without the threat of stinging lips. It was the biggest obstacle in our relationship, the one thing that ensured we took it slow. It was like having built-in parental controls, and no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t crack the code needed to get our relationship off the PG screens.

Determined to change that, I tucked my powers inside a steel room in my mind.

Mom had been the one to introduce me to this trick. When I was little, she had told me to lock unpleasant things behind an imaginary door in my mind marked Do Not Enter. Things I wasn’t ready to deal with went behind a door marked Open Another Day. I had created doors for everything: vegetables I didn’t like, rules I thought were unfair, Grandma’s wet kisses, and even Kevin Hobbs, who liked to pull the ribbons out of my hair when we were kids. I’d opened the last door the day Kevin had turned into a somewhat cool kid who shared his Twinkies with me.

The whole idea was to lock away the things that troubled me. I figured I could use this same theory for my powers. Only, I needed something that couldn’t easily be opened, so the door to this room was made of reinforced steel.

The smell of marinara wafted out of the microwave. Our lasagna would be ready any minute. It was now or never.

I slid my arms around Isaac’s waist and pulled him closer. “I really like you. Have I told you that lately?”

His lips twitched upward into that crooked smile I loved so much. “Thirty seconds before the last time you shocked me.”

I hit his arm. “That’s not help—”

The rest of my words were stifled by his lips on mine, a quick peck first to make sure I really had tucked my powers away. A soft moan escaped his lips as his mouth covered mine. God, his kisses were like summer and ice cream sundaes with lots of cherries on top. I rose up onto my tiptoes. His fingers twisted in my hair as I got lost in our moment. My power sizzled, trickled up from my belly button, and burst from every part of me. The spark that followed was bright enough to see through closed eyelids.

“Son of a—” Isaac rubbed his mouth with the back of his hands. “I think you’re getting worse at this.”

“I’m sorry.” I grabbed a couple ice cubes from the freezer and held one out to him. He shook his head. “It’s all this practicing and waiting and planning. Kissing is supposed to be spontaneous. Romantic. Not all ‘Wait’ and ‘Are you concentrating.’ It’s like telling someone not to laugh, and then all they want to do is laugh.”

Isaac grabbed our dinner from the microwave while I sucked on the ice.

“It’s simple: deep breath, focus, execute.” He touched the center of his piece of lasagna. “These need another minute.”

After he set the timer for sixty seconds, I tossed the ice cube in the sink and slid between his arms. He reached behind me and stuck his fingers in the back pockets of my jeans.

“You know, you never did tell me how you got these scars,” I commented, tracing the narrow crescent-shaped line on his right cheek with my fingertip. To my surprise, the skin there was much cooler than the rest of his face.

“Sure I did. A difference of opinion between me and another guy. Remember?”

“That doesn’t tell me anything. Did he possess the powers? Or did you use your magic to help speed up the healing process?”

“Yes.” Isaac leaned his face into the palm of my hand. When I gave him a squinted-eye glare, he added, “His powers weren’t the same as ours. He was stronger and knew tricks I didn’t. The cuts weren’t healing on their own, so I helped them along.”