Page 38 of Stone Temptation
“Do you want to play with me?” Squelchy, jelly-like noises punctuated each word. Black ink spilled from beneath its tentacles, staining the ground.
“I’d rather eat a cactus.”
I swung the silver ice cream scoop through a cluster of blue motes.
“I can make arrangements,” the monster responded.
In no mood for monsters, I ran at it, landing a violent gargoyle-infused touch. It screamed as it vanished, leaving me to my business.
To the right of my lighthouse was a shed. I’d set up a lab in there for magical research. Every shelf was stuffed with notebooks on various recipes and research, my worktop a sea of desperation, glass beakers, and potion vials. Oh, and a nodding, solar-powered sheep.
I released the motes into my hand, their blue lights twinkling between my fingers. They vibrated against my palm as I used my enchanter power, the hum of newly leeched magic coursing through my veins.
I let out a breath, blue condensation wisping past my face.
Maybe today…
I picked up a smooth stone, pouring my will into it with the hope of making a charm.
Become a tool to save my brother.
Help him.
Give him back to the world as he was.
The stone ignited with blue light under my magical touch. It glittered, then flickered pathetically for a few seconds before becoming a stone again.
Another failed attempt.
“Damn.” I let the stone slide off my palm onto the desk.
Back in the day, enchanters commanded the motes to build whole cities, to heal the sick even. Brinecrest’s observatory had been built by magic.
There were no such miracles transpiring in this shed today.
I gave up. I didn’t have a lot of time left until Seth’s package arrived, and then the gargoyle himself.
Stupidly, I tried calling my parents. After recent events, their voices wouldn’t help. They didn’t use those sweeter tones like they did when Finn was around to temper their disappointment.
Call me a glutton for sorrow.
“Yes?” Mum’s voice came through blunt, landing a jab on my soul.
“Hi. It’s me.”
“I know who it is.” The vitriol practically dripped down the line. “What do you want?”
“To see how you are.” My hands were shaking. “And Dad.”
“Hurting.”
Rustling came down the line, followed by muffled voices, then a heavy sigh.
“Dad?” I said.
“You’ve upset your mother.”
He hung up.