Page 29 of Rewitched

The manifest showed, too, what followed after that conversation. Somewhat bewildered by her own stupidity and strangeness, she’d made an effort at the cauldron. She had aimed to bind her own powers. Unthinkable now, but the obvious, only possible answer to her then. Magic had shown itself to be more of a curse than a blessing, and his response had only confirmed everything she already suspected about herself.

But she’d cut corners and hurried to finish, desperate for her magic to never have happened at all, desperate to eliminate the element of strangeness that she could blame for it all. From the first unnatural sip, her slapdash incantation had sent her flying backwards with such force that she still had a scar on her shoulder.

Trying to run from who she truly was had left its own scar, too. A seed of shame had been planted then, and from it, a deep-rooted oak of self-doubt had grown unchecked ever since. Not enough, yet somehow too much. Easy to leave behind, so she had to work twice as hard to keep people loving her. To this day, it held her back, wrapped its shadowed arms around her waist and locked its hands.

Belle watched as the young manifest of herself, tearful and strung together by sparks, summoned her cloak and hat, books and bottles, even her sooth stone. They all flew to her grasp in unison and were stuffed into a crumpled ball, shoved into the corner of a cupboard.

Everything special, unique, rare was left behind. The wonder-seeking girl she had been was no more. And shame of her own magic would not be excused.

10

Just Visitors

FOR WHAT FELT like the entirety of forever, no one said a word. As the shards of lightning and crystal raindrops cascaded to the floor one final time, they took with them all hope that Belle could possibly be leaving Hecate House with her powers intact. The pendulum began swinging again, slicing through the silence, and Belle’s head fell into her hands.

She heard her own voice crack precariously. “Please…Please, can I say something?”

“I hardly think it’s worth bothering,” replied Morena.

“Mor, now is not the time for rubbing salt into the wound,” Bronwyn scolded. “Have some heart, for the divil’s sake. The girl deserves a chance to speak her truth.” Bronwyn looked and sounded distinctly less chirpy than she had before.

“I think we’ve seen enough of her truth, sister. And it’s not something I wish to see again. She’s wasted enough of our time—the past fifteen years, for that matter. I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Morena said. “Bitterly disappointing. She has not used her powers, barely scraped their surface. Worse, she is ashamed of her magic.”

Morena’s condemnation was met with murmurings of agreement from many of the jury. But Belle’s defences shot up simultaneously.

“With respect, if I’d known I was being watched by a jury of high wicchefolk, I might have done things a little differently.”

It stung to acknowledge the memories that had been played out so publicly. This coven’s apparent determination to flay the deepest, most vulnerable parts of a person made her feel queasy.

“But these are choices that I’ve made along the way, whether I like it or not. Nothing about my life looks how I thought it would when I was fifteen years old, holding fresh magic. Thinking about the space between the two, between her and me, then and now, feels like standing on the doorstep like my grandparents used to and waving off endless versions of myself. The ones you planned to be as they leave and disappear off into the distance.”

She pressed a hand to the base of her neck, trying to cool her flushing skin. The brooch brushed her arm, and she blamed the intensity of her emotions when she could have sworn she felt a rush from it, what felt like a whisper, a touch to her shoulder. Keep going.

She could hear that she was already rambling, getting defensive and brittle. But she didn’t care. Belle saw Morena’s mouth move to respond with venom, but Bronwyn quickly clapped her around the arm before she had the chance.

“Trying to be a vaguely normal person in the non-wicche world, who can just about function enough to get the washing done and pass a performance review while also having all of this terrifying, overwhelming potential at your fingertips? Who can navigate that well? You know it’s there, but you’re terrified of what it could mean for you, where it might take your life, how much it would hurt to fail. So it’s easier to forget it, fall back to what feels easier and what you’ve always done before.”

She could feel herself careering with speed sharply away from the point, whatever the point was. The point was somewhere far behind in the rearview mirror. She sighed in surrender.

“Somewhere, I don’t know where, the magic slipped. And for a moment, I was ready to accept that the manifests and all of the wrong turns that I’ve made were the sum of who I am, but that’s not true. I am worthy of this power. I know my potential. Maybe I’ve neglected it for a long time now, but it’s still there. It has to be. If you could just give it time. I’ll show you.”

She turned to the jury directly.

“I go through life constantly feeling like the moment right after lightning strikes but before the thunder hits, when you aren’t sure if it will even come or how loud it will be when it does. It’s all stored up so tightly and loudly in here, pressure and promise.”

Belle took a moment to steady herself.

“But the prospect of losing my magic is infinitely more awful than trying to use it to its fullest and failing. My mum always says that perfection stops progress, and she’s right.”

Belle choked on something between a sob and a hiccup, and blew out a breath to stop herself.

“At least I will have tried this time. For the first time in a long time. I need to learn how to let myself do it all, do everything and not be scared of letting myself down or being too much, not be scared of failing and falling behind. I want magic to lead my way again.

“Okay. That’s all I have to say.” Belle bowed her head low and exhaled long and loud. She sank slowly back down into her seat but then shot back up again.

“Oh. Except also, let’s be honest, the first of those manifests were good. You know they were good. They were great, actually, when I had time to dedicate to it. And that girl is still inside me. It’s just that life got in my way. Being a grown-up is relentless, exhausting and is not conducive to wonderful magic, but I need to work on that and figure out how the two can live together. Okay, that’s all.”

She sat down, then stood back up a third time.