Pure Blood_ A Nocturne City Novel - Caitlin Kittredge [101]
Rhoda picked up the pad and frowned at it. “You were attempting to copy the workings,” she said, not bothering to hide the accusation in her voice. “Why did you do that?”
“It’s a very long story.” I sighed. The scents and sounds and vision so vivid they hurt were fading, and now I just felt like I’d gone a few rounds with Batman and lost.
“Tell me what you did,” said Rhoda. Hex it if I wasn’t ten years old again, having to explain why one of her favorite glasses was broken.
I closed my eyes, massaging my forehead with my index fingers. “I was just… writing out the lettering,” I muttered. “And all of a sudden I couldn’t see. The pain … it was like getting hit by a truck and I felt this … sort of … like my mind was being pushed out, by my senses. Everything went up to eleven.” The best way I could describe what had happened, truly.
When I opened my eyes, Rhoda’s lips were pressed into a thin line. I had never seen her face exactly like this—her eyes were sharp and wide, and she was breathing through her nose. I was shocked when I realized that my grandmother was scared.
“This can’t be happening,” she muttered, putting her hands over her face. “Luna, tell me exactly what you did.”
“I just copied the symbols,” I said, puzzled. “That’s all.”
“Grandma, are you okay?” Sunny said anxiously. “Do you need to lie down or take your pills?”
“You copied the working in your own hand. When a witch copies workings in her own hand, energy is transferred into the spell,” Rhoda continued as if she hadn’t heard Sunny. “Into a spell. The working absorbs the witch’s latent magick and that’s what makes a working possible, how it manifests.” She fixed her panicked gaze on me. “You absorbed it. All that magick…”
“Okay, a plain-English translation would be good at some point,” I said, giving Sunny the she’s-crazy look. Sunny was nibbling on her lip like it was nutritious, eyes flicking between Rhoda and me.
“A Path, is what they’re called,” said Rhoda slowly. “Witches who absorb magick rather than expend it. They store it in themselves and are a human focus for a working. They’re very rare.” She took a breath and blinked, and she was back to the familiar scary-fairy grandmother I knew. “But Paths are always witches, never weres, so this must have just been something you did to yourself with that filthy blood relic. I’m glad you’re all right.” She stood up, brushing herself off like close contact with me had soiled her, and went into the kitchen.
Sunny stared at me. “What the Hex is going on?”
“You tell me!” I hissed. “One minute I’m sitting here minding my own business and the next she’s babbling on about Paths and storing magickal energy and witches!”
“I hate to tell you she’s right,” said Sunny. “But Paths are those of the blood. Not weres. It doesn’t make sense.”
I curled up, hugging one of the big throw pillows to me. “Actually, it makes a lot of sense to me. Unfortunately.”
“Oh gods,” Sunny muttered. “Luna, it can’t happen. You’re not a witch—trust me.”
“Just because it’s never happened doesn’t mean it can’t happen,” I muttered. “And how do you know for sure, anyway? Serpent Eye pack magick is different for everyone who gets the bite. I may not be the first were to have Path magick.” Up until now, I’d always assumed I was defective, devoid of magicks because I had chosen to be Insoli. But the more I talked and the more Sunny shook her head, the surer I became.
It made sense now, the sinuous prickle I felt every time I was close to powerful magick. My aversion to workings and circles and all the other trappings of being a witch. And here I had thought it was just psychological baggage from my childhood.
I voiced this to Sunny, and she slowly nodded.
“I’d believe that at least,