I hit the ground hard, spraying sand everywhere and into every crack I had. But I couldn't linger long, not when a glowing ball of purple magic was flying straight for my head. I rolled out of the way and sprang to my feet, facing the glowing creature on the other side of the dark beach.
Creature wasn't really a good word for it but magical-representation-of-myself-I-used-when-I-wanted-to-spar was too long to say every time. I'd cleaved half my magic from myself, used a bit more to breathe some life into it, and then told it to come at me with everything it had.
Right now, it was kicking my ass.
Seeing as it was still my magic, I could've thrown in the towel and called it back. After all, I was starting my senior year of high school in the morning, and I didn't want to exhaust myself. But as a Warrior, a magical with the unique capability to use my magic in battle, quitting was anathema. The more I trained, the more I wanted to, until it was an itch that wouldn't stop. The only cure was to transport to this beach in the middle of nowhere and spar with myself until I couldn't move.
My muscles were already aching, but mostly because I'd been distracted and careless tonight. But if I was weak, so was my counterpart, and if I could land one good, hard attack spell, it would be over.
The problem was landing said attack spell. I was a habitual overthinker; my creature was not.
The creature moved, and so I did too. I feinted left then right, practicing short transport spells to stay one step ahead of the purple balls of magic flying toward me. She relied on magical memory, or the impression of spells I'd previously attempted, to fight, and I didn't imprint a memory until at least a few weeks of practice. This was a new technique I was trying, and I was fairly sure she couldn't keep up.
"Crap!" I cried as an attack spell smacked into my left shoulder, stopping me.
The creature came for me again, and I had to practice defense. I knocked away her attack spell with my own like two pool balls, sending them both across the ocean. It wasn't the best move because it drained me faster, but sometimes I had to stop worrying about efficiency and get the job done.
I fell to my knees and let a particularly harsh spell fly over my head. While she was recovering, I closed my eyes and let my magic do what it did best.
Although I felt I had nothing left to give, my magic knew better. It was good at finding the crumbs of power hidden in the tips of my fingers and toes. As magic gathered in my core, I formed an attack spell so powerful it could kill me. I made sure to leave a little behind, so it wouldn't. Then, remembering I had school tomorrow, I left behind a little more. The creature was already low on energy, so it wouldn't take too much.
I jumped out of the way just as a crackling ball of energy zoomed toward my head, and as I did, released the ball of magic I'd been holding.
The collision exploded so bright it blinded me. I didn't need to lift my head to know I'd won and was, yet again, alone on the beach. The sound of the waves lapping against the shore came back to me, lulling me into calm. I inhaled the salt air, dug my weak fingers into the soft sand beneath my body until my heartbeat came back to normal.
Deep down, I knew all my own moves, so victory was always hollow. This was simply a distraction, a way to keep my mind off the worries and fears that had plagued me for eighteen months, when a man from New Salem had killed my aunt and nearly killed me, too.
It had all started on the eve of my fifteenth birthday, when Aunt Jeanie informed me that I, and the rest of my family, had magic. She'd been pretty light on the details, which, at the time, had infuriated me. But then Gavon had shown up—and ruined everything.
First, he was kind. He mentored me, taught me how to use this new gift, and was the solid rock I'd counted on during those scary first weeks of magic. If that hadn't tipped me off that he was no good, I should've known when I found out he was from a gang of evil magicals who'd been banished to another world. But no, stupid me thought, "Oh, how interesting!" and continued to follow him like a lost puppy.
And that was how I'd ended up fighting for my life in a duel with Gavon's apprentice. And how Jeanie ended up dead.
I tried not to dwell on that last part.
I sucked in a breath and forced myself to sit up, letting the sand fall from my hair. It would take a few more minutes before I'd recovered enough to transport myself back home. Magic was a finite energy, and although I was much faster at healing than when I'd started sparring, it took a lot out of me to fight with myself.
Sadly, even though my sisters were a potion-maker and healer, neither one knew about my nightly activities. One because I didn't want her to worry. The other, well…
Thinking about Marie was enough to force me to stand. I brushed the sand off my arms and legs and found the small bit of my magic I'd kept in reserve. Then, knowing I would crash the moment I got home, I transported straight into my bed, feeling the cool pillow against my cheek before blackness overtook me.
I was back on the beach, standing beneath the moonlight. This time, I wasn't alone.
"Oh, don't cry, Lexie," he said, drawing up a deadly-looking spell. "You'll be back with her soon enough. Then your sisters will join you."
My magic throbbed beneath my skin, remembering what it was to fight with skill and practice, and I let go of control, deflecting and attacking with the grace of a practitioner much more advanced. My body danced as effortlessly as Gavon's had, and I drew up three spells of my own, not to kill, but to confuse.
"I do like a challenge," Cyrus said. "Unfortunately, I don't have time—"
I released a blast, if only to shut him up, and he blocked with a spell of his own, but the force had knocked him back a few feet. When I saw the confusion on his face, I knew he'd underestimated me, which meant I had him.
I exploded in purple and fury and power. The spell crashed into Cyrus, pummeling him mercilessly until he fell to his knees. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and he panted, struggling to gather his magic. Somehow I knew, perhaps through the magical memory, that I was going to use the rest of my magic to destroy him, and I was going to die.
Goodbye Nicole. Goodbye Marie.
With a loud crack, I released my final magic—
I awoke suddenly, gasping for air and searching the room for the face that haunted my dreams. But the only sound was my own panicked breathing. Slowly, I sank back down into my pillows, tears mixing with the sweat coating my cheeks. I turned to muffle my cries in my pillow; our apartment was too small, and Nicole was in the next room over.
I still had no idea what really happened the night I almost lost my life in a duel with Cyrus, nor did I know why he hadn't come for us again. But I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him—or anyone else from New Salem.
Muscles aching, I rolled out of bed and wiped my face. I cracked open my door to the dark apartment and listened. Our apartment was small, so even from across the hall I heard my sister's soft snoring. It comforted me—but I wasn't quite satisfied.
I slid on my flip-flops and tiptoed out of the apartment, softly closing the door behind me. Ours was on the second floor of two, so I padded down the concrete and metal stairs as quietly as I could.
I kept to the shadows of the parking lot until I found a spot next to a tall oak tree. I gathered what was left of my magic and released it into the air, reaching toward the invisible barrier I'd erected. The magic responded in kind, lighting up before my eyes and confirming what I'd already known—nothing magical would get in or out unless I allowed it.
That was, of course, assuming I'd gotten the damned spell right.
As the light of the barrier faded and my magic returned, loneliness echoed in my chest. I needed help. Sparring only came naturally thanks to the magical memories I'd retained from before I was born. Everything else was always a question—was I doing it right? Did the charms and spells and enchantments do what they were supposed to, or was I just seeing what I wanted to?
As much as I hated to admit it, I missed Gavon. Or rather, I missed the Gavon I'd known before I found out who he really was. The man who'd taken me under his wing and answered every stupid question I had, even when I sounded like an idiot.
But even as I missed him, I couldn't ignore what he'd let happen—or that he'd been absent from my life since. I'd spent weeks parsing out if my feelings for him were because we were both Warriors, or because he'd intentionally made himself more appealing to me, or because he was my f—
I released a breath. I still had a hard time saying the word, even in my mind.
Nights like tonight, when my insecurity roared like a dragon, I wished he would appear out of nowhere again, offering a kind smile and a thoughtful response to whatever worry I had that night. But he was why I needed a barrier in the first place. I had to hope that this spell, which I'd enacted about three months after my near-death experience, was the reason why Cyrus hadn't come back for round two.
Because if I didn't, the fear would eat me alive.
A wave of exhaustion descended like a curtain, and I leaned into the oak tree. I was sure it was past midnight, and I was also sure that sparring with myself plus this late-night barrier checking meant that extra coffee would be required to get me out of bed in the morning.
But somehow it seemed fitting to continue to torture myself over the past. After all, had I just told someone about Gavon the first day I saw him, my family would've still been intact.