following instructions. It’s about listening to each other. We have to work together.”
“I trust you,” Alice said automatically, even though it wasn’t entirely true. Eva had been sending more mixed signals than a schizophrenic. Then again, Eva had just lost her sister. And grief did strange things to people. Really, who could blame her for being a little confused? Alice decided to cut her some slack. A bird in the hand was great, but why settle for one bird when you could have two? If she pulled away now, then it would be her fault that they never had a shot at real friendship.
“Well, thanks,” said Eva, who looked genuinely pleased. “But I still think it would be a good idea for us to practice a little before we get into the real stuff. Just to make sure that we’re both ready.”
“You mean like a magic trust fall?”
“Exactly.”
Alice hesitated for a second. The problem with a trust fall was that you actually could get hurt. Without the risk, trust was less a requirement and more a friendly gesture. Her hands clenched, but she kept her face neutral.
“What do I do?” she asked.
Eva drummed her fingers on the edge of the bed, her eyes boring into Alice’s. “There’s one I’ve read about on the forums. It’s called a promise burn.”
“Burn?”
The hairs on Alice’s arms stood up. She hugged them over her stomach, hoping Eva wouldn’t notice.
“I know it sounds awful, but it’s really not. As long as we work together, it’s perfectly safe.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Just hold still. It’s intense magic, so I’ll do the incantation.”
“Oh.” Alice couldn’t help but be disappointed. This was a pretty one-sided trust fall.
Eva must have noticed the drop in her tone because she reassured, “Not that your part is any less important! It’s essential.”
“What’s the spell, then?”
Eva’s fingers drummed faster though her voice stayed steady.
“It’s an old ritual—a rite two witches would perform so that they knew they could trust each other. It’s pretty much just a promise to have each other’s backs, but it’s held in place by magic. The spell holds each party to their word for as long as the spell lasts.”
“And how long is that?”
“It’ll fade after about a month.”
This was sounding more and more like a campy blood oath taken under the moonlight with the flick of a knife. But Alice was more excited than repulsed. A magical promise was something solid—something to rely on. She liked the idea of Eva looking out for her.
“I’ll say the words and then, when I breathe out, there should be some kind of … fire.” Eva hesitated, watching Alice for a reaction. Alice gave her none, and she went on. “Then all you have to do is open your mouth and inhale it and swallow. From what I’ve heard, your mouth will get a little warm. But the fire won’t hurt you.”
Alice swallowed roughly, imagining what it would feel like to gulp down a ball of flames. She didn’t let herself think about it for too long. It was just like a trust fall, really, and if you stood on the ladder for more than a few seconds, you were bound to talk yourself out of letting go.
“Let’s do it,” she said, nodding.
“You—you’re sure?” Eva asked, studying her. Judging by the surprise in her voice, she’d been planning on having to do a lot more convincing.
“I said I trust you. And I do.”
Her teeth clenched with the effort of saying it. It’s not a huge lie , she told herself. And if I didn’t trust her … I wouldn’t tell her anyway.
“Ok. Well … I guess … ” she took a deep breath and opened her mouth, then closed it. Her chest heaved up and down; her eyes were bright. “I guess … let’s do it.”
“I guess so,” Alice agreed.
Eva nodded. She breathed in again, closed her eyes, and started to recite.
I flame out,
You flame in.
Fires join,
Ashes swim.
We—the fire.
But if we burn
One another—
Cinders.
Alice
“I trust you,” Alice said automatically, even though it wasn’t entirely true. Eva had been sending more mixed signals than a schizophrenic. Then again, Eva had just lost her sister. And grief did strange things to people. Really, who could blame her for being a little confused? Alice decided to cut her some slack. A bird in the hand was great, but why settle for one bird when you could have two? If she pulled away now, then it would be her fault that they never had a shot at real friendship.
“Well, thanks,” said Eva, who looked genuinely pleased. “But I still think it would be a good idea for us to practice a little before we get into the real stuff. Just to make sure that we’re both ready.”
“You mean like a magic trust fall?”
“Exactly.”
Alice hesitated for a second. The problem with a trust fall was that you actually could get hurt. Without the risk, trust was less a requirement and more a friendly gesture. Her hands clenched, but she kept her face neutral.
“What do I do?” she asked.
Eva drummed her fingers on the edge of the bed, her eyes boring into Alice’s. “There’s one I’ve read about on the forums. It’s called a promise burn.”
“Burn?”
The hairs on Alice’s arms stood up. She hugged them over her stomach, hoping Eva wouldn’t notice.
“I know it sounds awful, but it’s really not. As long as we work together, it’s perfectly safe.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Just hold still. It’s intense magic, so I’ll do the incantation.”
“Oh.” Alice couldn’t help but be disappointed. This was a pretty one-sided trust fall.
Eva must have noticed the drop in her tone because she reassured, “Not that your part is any less important! It’s essential.”
“What’s the spell, then?”
Eva’s fingers drummed faster though her voice stayed steady.
“It’s an old ritual—a rite two witches would perform so that they knew they could trust each other. It’s pretty much just a promise to have each other’s backs, but it’s held in place by magic. The spell holds each party to their word for as long as the spell lasts.”
“And how long is that?”
“It’ll fade after about a month.”
This was sounding more and more like a campy blood oath taken under the moonlight with the flick of a knife. But Alice was more excited than repulsed. A magical promise was something solid—something to rely on. She liked the idea of Eva looking out for her.
“I’ll say the words and then, when I breathe out, there should be some kind of … fire.” Eva hesitated, watching Alice for a reaction. Alice gave her none, and she went on. “Then all you have to do is open your mouth and inhale it and swallow. From what I’ve heard, your mouth will get a little warm. But the fire won’t hurt you.”
Alice swallowed roughly, imagining what it would feel like to gulp down a ball of flames. She didn’t let herself think about it for too long. It was just like a trust fall, really, and if you stood on the ladder for more than a few seconds, you were bound to talk yourself out of letting go.
“Let’s do it,” she said, nodding.
“You—you’re sure?” Eva asked, studying her. Judging by the surprise in her voice, she’d been planning on having to do a lot more convincing.
“I said I trust you. And I do.”
Her teeth clenched with the effort of saying it. It’s not a huge lie , she told herself. And if I didn’t trust her … I wouldn’t tell her anyway.
“Ok. Well … I guess … ” she took a deep breath and opened her mouth, then closed it. Her chest heaved up and down; her eyes were bright. “I guess … let’s do it.”
“I guess so,” Alice agreed.
Eva nodded. She breathed in again, closed her eyes, and started to recite.
I flame out,
You flame in.
Fires join,
Ashes swim.
We—the fire.
But if we burn
One another—
Cinders.
Alice