She hesitated. What you’re trying to do is cloak the wild magic’s output by putting an internal barrier between it, your own natural magic, and the world in general. So perhaps imagine that from the get-go rather than trying to drag the shield inside after formation.
I took another useless deep breath and then began the spell yet again; this time, rather than imagining a shield, I created a wispy, silvery curtain that filtered down through the inner me, forming a barrier that covered me from the top of my head to the very bottom of my feet, and through which only my natural magic was visible. I tied off the end of the spell very carefully, using the wild magic deep within as a power source so that it didn’t draw too much on my own strength, and then activated it.
Monty sucked in a deep breath. “Whatever the fuck you just did, it totally worked.”
Relief surged so fiercely that it left me shaking. I licked my lips, trying to keep calm, and then said, “Is there any magical output at all?”
“There’s a faint bleed of your natural magic, but that’s it. How long do you think you’ll be able to sustain it?”
“I don’t know.” I wrinkled my nose. “What’s the usual time span for these sorts of spells?”
“Generally, twelve to fifteen hours, depending on the strength of the practitioner and how long they’ve been shielding. It gets easier the longer you do it.”
“Yours isn’t on full time, though.”
“It’s always partially on—I generally only fully mute when I’m in the presence of unknown witches. I also disconnect when I’m sleeping.”
You can’t risk partial coverage, Belle commented. Not when we haven’t a clue how or when the bastard will make his grand appearance.
Agreed. I pushed upright and walked around the room. Eamon took a half-hearted swipe at me as I passed his sofa. “Is the spell covering movement? Is there any accidental leakage?”
“None. It’s bloody brilliant.” He took another sip of coffee, his eyes slightly narrowed as he continued to study me. “I guess the next question is, how easy will it be to drop if you do need to use the wild magic? Or did you weave in an exception to allow that?”
“I didn’t, but I could easily enough. I might just see how long this spell lasts first, though.”
He nodded. “Once you’re used to its presence, you can start honing the technique and adding exceptions.”
And then pray like hell that it works in the presence of someone as powerful as Clayton, Belle said.
If it doesn’t, then the game is over before it starts. And that was something I certainly didn’t want to think about right now. Hadn’t you better go get glammed up for your date?
Just about to. Oh, and don’t forget to stop at the bottle shop on the way home.
That’s the one thing I won’t forget. Not when we’d used the last of the Glenfiddich in the Irish coffees we’d made last night—a fact that had horrified Ashworth, the Regional Witch Association representative who’d come here to investigate a murder and had not only decided to stay, but was now the closest thing to a grandfather I had. His horror over the ‘waste’ of such fine whiskey didn’t stop him and Eli—his husband, and a retired RWA witch—from partaking in quite a few, however.
I picked up my cup and drank the remainder of the coffee. “Are you going out tonight?”
Monty nodded. “Got an invite to that new restaurant that’s opening in Argyle.”
I gave him a long look. “Why do I suspect it isn’t a coincidence that you and Belle are going to the same event?”
“Because you’re always reading a devious intent behind any action I might take when it comes to her. And while it generally is the case, this time I was actually invited out by a rather lovely young woman.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And do I know this paragon?”
“Probably not, as she’s only new in town. I literally ran into her just over a week ago at the supermarket.”
“And as a thank-you, she invited you to an exclusive evening?”
My disbelief was evident, and he grinned. “I think it safe to say she was bowled over by my charm.”
I snorted. “I take it you’ve already been out with her?”
He nodded. “Her brother is the restaurant’s owner, and she came up from Melbourne for a few weeks to help out.”
“So, what was she doing in Castle Rock?”
“She wasn’t. I was down there.” He grimaced. “I’d been investigating the wedding reception murder at the Lake House and—”