Anne T.

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After Kate was done, Jo had tried to get her to burn several more random items she found lying around, which Kate refused. Rhea’s book was drained of any dangerous pent up magic, and Kate felt confident she could return it to its rightful inheritors without issue. Alex had offered to take Kate back with them when she left for Karonil, but the younger girl had refused. Apparently, she had other friends in Entach who had already agreed to take her home.

After Elena and Kate had more fully explained their heist, Yusteur’s theft, and the presentation he had given during the dinner, Jo and Alex left to go plan their departure with the rest of the Argelo family. Alex had hugged Elena before departing. It was different than before, when she had hugged her in the past it had always felt wanting, but this time it was just familiar, maybe nostalgic.

Elena watched them walk until they turned a corner and fell out of sight. Maybe in a few years she would visit, but that future was too far off to see with any clarity.

Not really wanting to go home, and since Kate was in no real hurry, they walked down the dimly lit streets of Folly Island towards the bay. A cold wind had picked up and was blowing in from the ocean. Helping each other up, they sat on top of a low wall that looked out over the docks. Elena pointed at the distant lights across the water and told Kate useless facts about the places beyond the island.

“Shipwright’s Union is across from us there, that’s still Ramirough, though. Over there, see the low, more red lights? That’s Isabei. Okay, now follow the line of them way north like that, see? There’s the north Triplet bridge. There’s three that go into Isabei but that’s the one that people always include in paintings. North follows the high road. Sometimes when it’s really clear, you can see Sain Leon behind it.”

Kate listened, content to let Elena talk. Eventually, she ran out of things to say and they let the conversation fall into a unified quiet. When Kate spoke so softly, she leaned in close to be heard over the wind.

“Hey, Elena. When I was talking about magic earlier, I realized that I never actually told you how I personally view things. Every witch you meet will have some new way of conceptualizing what we do, and naturally, I think they’re all wrong.”

Kate drummed her fingers over the spine of the journal. The taps rang out clearly, like a heartbeat, despite the sound of the ocean. She turned her head to look at Elena, her hair flying around her in a black net that caught the lights of the high windows in distant buildings behind her.

“I think that magic is touch. We touch and can’t help but be touched back in return. The world itself, other people, nature around us, the sun and the stars and the pink lady above, the very act of creation, of pleasure itself— we touch and are touched by everything around us— we all leave fingerprints on everything we touch. It’s why we see magic everyday, in so many little things.”

The waves drowned out her next words, but Elena could still feel them in her chest.

“It’s the most human thing in the world, we literally can’t help it. We leave handprints where we’ve been by our very nature. The only difference between doing magic like I do, and just existing, is that I’ve gotten good at reaching out. At knowing where needs to be touched.”

Her breath came out like steam now, hot air meeting cold. It swirled around Elena’s eyes and ears as Kate spoke.

“If you want to be a witch, Elena, learn how to find the places where someone’s touch is still warm, and then leave your body heat on top of theirs. That’s all there is to everything.”

Morning was coming. Elena walked home alone, one finger pressed gently to her face, her lips, feeling for a warmth.

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Stepping back inside meant wading through a thick cloud of humidity. Moist heat was pouring out of the kitchens and into the adjoining back rooms. The hall that led to the alley had low ceilings, so the heat was stuck low to the ground. A long metal shelf with locked boxes was set into one wall, where a few spaces were opened, Elena could see plainclothes. They were all visibly damp. There was a glossy sheen of water on the walls. The double doors to the kitchen were propped open with buckets of dirty dishwater. Jo’s locker was open, but not empty, the ugly felt hat she’d been wearing all year was somehow unaffected by the moisture.

Stepping into the kitchen, women were busy pouring boiling water on every surface. The largest fire, against the external wall, had four different black pots set above the flames. Each was heating more water for the cleaning cycle. Women would come in pairs to remove a pot, take it to their station, and pour a fresh helping of water over everything. They all seemed very used to the heat. Once a pot was emptied, it went into another room and returned filled with water ready to begin again. All surfaces not being actively boiled were being scrubbed. Women and girls with coarse brushes used caustic white powder to pull up any remaining grime or stain.

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Because they had been announced, they would need to make a formal exit. Walking out the front door with the book would just have to do. As Elena had explained to Kate, no one had any reason to suspect them of anything. No one was going to stop them from simply walking out because they wouldn’t be looking for any missing books, as long as they left right then. She’d sent Kate out to find Yusteur’s whereabouts while she replaced the hinge-bolts as best she could. After a few minutes, Kate reported that he was pulled into an office by Elena’s grandfather, where he would probably keep them for an hour at minimum. Hirion liked to talk after a successful dinner.

The second floor had filled with the guests from the dining hall. By now, everyone had heard about her argument with Alex. One of her aunt’s tried to call her over to them, her face serious, but Elena ducked her head and tried to walk as if she didn’t know that everyone was staring, caught in the orbit of her personal drama. Elena held the book to her chest and felt its static charge react as her heartrate spiked.

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The book, according to Kate, had been placed back downstairs behind the same door. Charles Yusteur and his other club member were both easily spotted in the second floor’s main room. No one was left upstairs to try and come down, it was the best opportunity they had to grab the book and run.

"A door doesn’t seem particularly hard to open with magic, correct?”

“Nope, sorry.” Kate touched the stain left behind from where she had thrown a drink earlier. It was still sticky. “My specialty is in potions, like the one I gave you. I tried to improvise something with the ramiri but it wouldn’t take.”

“And your skill set doesn’t extend to, perhaps, melting the lock?”