Spells Trouble, Kristin Cast [books to read in a lifetime .TXT] 📗

douchey. No big surprise. It’s not like he had any kind of a decent role model at home to show him how to treat a girlfriend. That’s why Mercy had to practically teach him how to be a boyfriend—not that she minded. When they were alone Kirk was the sweetest guy ever. He just didn’t know how to make that guy public.

Well, she sure as hell did. And he’d thank her later, after everyone saw the real Kirk Whitfield. The Kirk she knew and loved so much.

Mercy slowed as she approached the spot at the very end of the practice field where the varsity cheerleaders had set up a big table that held a giant cooler full of sports drinks and ice. It was tradition that the cheer squad practiced along with the football team, breaking at about the same time so that everyone could share the cold drinks before the boys jogged into their locker room and the cheerleaders flitted off to theirs. Mercy tended to agree with Hunter’s ongoing assessment that the whole thing was a misogynistic ritual that needed to end, but the football and cheer coaches thought it was good for morale.

Giggles mixed with deep voices drifted to her on the breeze. Mercy thought what almost everyone else did—that the morale it built by the cheerleaders basically playing the role of glorified water boys caused more touchdowns in the backseat of cars than on the football field, but whatever. Today the archaic ritual was perfect for what she wanted to, needed to do.

She saw Hunter walking slowly to Jax, who—along with the rest of the varsity team, minus their quarterback—was downing a bottle of something that looked like it had way too much red food coloring in it to be healthy. Hunter glanced at her and Mercy motioned sharply for Hunter to join the group. Even from that distance she could see that Hunter’s shoulders were bowed and her face looked pale and drawn. Mercy’s stomach tightened. She hated to see Hunter upset. For years she’d been messing up anyone who hurt her sister.

And look how she paid me back today—by siding with Jax against me. She was a bitch last night when I tried to reason with her about Tyr, and she’s still pissed. That’s all it is.

Mercy lifted her chin. She’d show Hunter. She’d show all of them.

The fence that ringed that end of the field and the track surrounding it was lined with Thuja trees that grew side by side in pyramids of concealing evergreens, easily ten feet tall. Several yards beyond the trees and the fence the cheerleaders clustered with the football team—and her sister, who was standing beside Jax, silent and uncomfortable.

Mercy approached the wall of trees. From where she stood she could hear the sounds of voices, but was too far away and too shielded by the living wall to make out actual words.

Kirk would think anything he said to her would be private. In the shadowy protection of the evergreen hedge they couldn’t even be seen, let alone heard.

But Kirk didn’t actually know anything about her witchy powers, so he had zero clue what she could coax the trees to do. Well, Hunter had just decided—all on her own and against what Xena had said—to spill a bunch of stuff about them and the gates.

Now it was Mercy’s turn.

She knew the perfect spell. It was simple—one of the first Green Witch spells her mom had taught her before she was even a teenager and had first shown an affinity for plants and trees and the earth. Abigail had taken her to the huge grandmother oak in their backyard and explained to her that each tree was a living being, and because of that the right witch, using the right kind of power, could ask trees for aid.

It had been a super easy spell for her to learn. She’d already been able to feel the big oak’s inhalations and exhalations against her hands, and she’d been listening to the sweet whispers of the crops that surrounded their home for as long as she could remember. So, when Abigail had shown her how to focus, how to pull energy from the ley lines and be the conduit that sent that energy into the oak so that she could beseech the tree for the help she needed—it felt as natural as breathing to young Mercy.

She looked up at the wall of evergreens. They loomed above her and made her feel safe, strong, powerful even. Mercy smiled and lifted her hands, stroking the spiky, sticky upside-down Vs that were the Thuja’s leaves. It was then that her mother’s voice tickled across her memory. Well done, Mag! Abigail had said when Mercy had executed the spell so easily. But remember, sweetheart, never use your powers for vanity or any self-serving reason. Always keep in mind the words we live by: An ye harm none, do what ye will.

Mercy ignored the spark of intuition that all of a sudden made her palms sweaty and her stomach sick. I’m not harming anyone. I’m showing everyone they’re wrong about Kirk. I’m doing a good thing!

She wiped her damp palms against her jeans skirt, closed her eyes, and centered herself—and found that her anger worked for her as she easily found the potent ley line that bisected the football field and ran directly under where she stood. Mercy reached down and tapped into that vein of power as she pressed her hands against the trees—ignoring the fact that their sticky leaves scratched her palms.

“I greet you, gentle giants,” she murmured to them.

Instantly she felt their combined inhale and exhalation against her hands.

“I ask a favor of you, and for that favor I will draw the power beneath you up into your roots, your branches, your beautiful, lime green leaves. You will swell with health and grow taller, ever taller. Will you grant me a favor?”

From the trees rushed excitement that teased her palms and made her smile.

“Good. Here