Chapter 2

Ben aimed the hose at the trees once again, almost as if he were waiting for another fire to start.

Goddammit, Clara, pull it together. It’s like you don’t even want to go home.

“That was weird,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess there was a small ember still burning on that branch and it caught flame with the wind.”

“I guess so,” I lied, looking away. I knew full well that wasn’t why the tree caught fire. God, I hate being a witch.

“Well, I’ll leave you to whatever it is you were doing,” he said, a sharp tone of suspicion in his voice. He definitely didn’t buy the electrical fire story. Oh well, I’d probably never see him again.

“Thanks for your help. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without you.”

“Just be glad I got here before the whole forest went up,” he joked.

I couldn’t find the humor in it, but I could appreciate him trying to make me feel better under the circumstances. I looked around avoiding his green eyes. “This place is a disaster,” I breathed, staring at the blackened tree trunks all around the now burnt shed. This was going to take days—maybe weeks—to clean up. Then again, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

“Want some help?” He looked around at the burnt chaos.

The thought of company was tempting, but as much as I needed an extra pair of hands, his presence made me tense. I’d never had a boyfriend, which was likely for the best. I couldn’t risk lighting anything else on fire, especially not with him watching.

“No, thanks. I can handle it.”

“You sure?” he asked, looking skeptical.

I couldn’t blame him. I was small, but I had a few tricks up my sleeve. “Oh yeah,” I offered a quick smile. “I’ll have this place cleared in no time.”

“If you say so. Take care, and stay away from anything flammable.”

A joke I should probably take very serious.

“Nothing flammable for me for at least the rest of the day,” I promised. It was too soon to laugh, but I managed to force a smile anyway.

Once he climbed into his truck, he rolled down the window. “Maybe I’ll see you around. If you need anything, I’m just down the street.”

“Maybe,” I said, waving as he pulled away.

Keeping my distance was the smart move. Besides, my mother would throw a fit. Yet a small, stupid part of me wanted to see him again—even knowing how reckless it was to get involved with anyone right now. Especially a mortal who had no idea magic existed.

He drove down the long driveway—no sirens this time—and disappeared into the trees as if he’d never been there at all.

I got to work clearing the debris, dragging burnt branches over to the fire pit. Most of the scorched trees were still standing and might survive, but the shed was a total loss.

An hour passed, and the sun began to dip below the treeline. Once darkness fell, the woods turned pitch-black, and I had no desire to be out here after dark. Witch or not, the things lingering in the shadows still terrified me.

It was time to burn the scrap wood.

I focused on the fire pit, reaching for that inner spark. A few weak embers flickered, then died. Brilliant. Just minutes ago, I’d nearly incinerated an entire acre by accident, and now I couldn’t even light a twig.

Why don’t you try harder? my mother’s voice sneered in my head. If only she knew how hard I was trying. My heart sank when I thought of her. I would have to call her in the morning and tell her what I had done. I could already feel the weight of her disappointment deep in my stomach. I felt sick.

I sighed, crushed by the familiar weight of being the family failure. At this rate, I’d be stuck out here forever.

I closed my eyes, gathered my energy, and tried again. It took a few attempts, but finally, a faint flame caught the branches. The wood began to crackle, casting a warm glow over the colouring sun set in the clearing.

I tended the fire for a couple of hours until the pile of debris was gone. Once the embers flickered out, I called it a night.

Back inside my bunkie, I hung a protection jar over the closed door. You can never be too careful when you live alone in the woods.

In the small kitchen, I poured a glass of water from the tap and rummaged through the cupboard for a quick bite, settling on some crackers and nuts. My bed was visible from where I stood, and just looking at it made the day’s exhaustion hit me like a physical blow. Nothing like being a failure to make you tired.

On a chair in the corner, Archie—my fat orange cat—was fast asleep. He didn't even twitch at the noise I was making. Classic Archie. Unbothered by everything. I was just glad for the company.

Finishing my snack, I walked into the bedroom, leaving the door cracked open behind me.

Moments after I lay down, Archie bounced onto the mattress, curling up on the pillow right next to my head. I stared at the ceiling, dreading the phone call I’d have to make to my mother tomorrow. She was going to be furious. But then again, what else was new? At least she wasn’t here and I wouldn’t have to see her face.

I forced the thought of her lecture out of my mind and drifted off. Sleep came quickly, but it brought no rest—only unsettling dreams of a stranger whose face I didn't recognize, but whose presence made my very soul ache with a feeling I’d never felt before.