Witching Tree (Alice Gray Book 1)

57

           
Bracing myself against the chest of drawers, my eyes drifted down. Old clothes were scattered messily inside.

But that wasn't all.

A faint trace of silver mist floated out from underneath.

Pushing the clothes out of the way, I drew back quickly at the sight of an old, black leather-bound volume. It looked like a diary or journal, but the silver particles that swelled around it told me otherwise.

Jonathan had a hand in this.

A hum of energy behind me snapped my attention back to the tree. The book vibrated in response, the connection between the two impossible to mistake.

It was a small, plain volume with a cracked black leather binding. No title or markings of any kind on the cover or the spine; the antithesis of the large family grimoire that had transported me to Jonathan last time.

It was a clever disguise, but I wasn't fooled. Silver magic narrowed it down, and I'd never seen this book before.

I opened the front cover expecting to find a title page.

Still nothing to indicate its purpose. I turned the first few pages in frustration.

All blank.

Moving back to the silver tree, I placed the book on the ground while I sat, cross-legged. The tree hummed with energy. The book responded with intensifying vibrations of its own.

The air lay heavy between them. Tiny bolts of silver lightening shot out from the tree towards the book, but fizzled out before they connected.

They needed a conduit.

Crap.

Placing my palm flat on the book, I centred myself as the channel of energy vibrated through me. My bones rattled with the strength of each jolt.

I held on, reciting the words of the White Paternoster in my head. Soon the waves of power relaxed into heavy thrums that flowed through my blood, filling my organs with strength.

With magic.

Bracing myself, I grasped the tree around its trunk.

Hot pain like I'd never felt shot through me. My teeth clenched together as every nerve in my body exploded, tearing me apart.

For a second I lost it.

A gulf of nothing decimated my consciousness.

Then everything knit back together. Bone, veins, organs, nerves, skin, every stitch lacerated my awareness. White-hot agony riddled my brain until every receptor was screaming.

Then I realised that I was actually screaming, my mouth stretched so wide that it took a few seconds to relax my face muscles enough to close it. When I blinked, I had to force my eyelids over my bulging, dry eyes.  

Raw and sensitive, I sat, the book in one had, the tree in the other, trying to make my brain function beyond the memory of pain.

But the magic; its strength swelled in every new cell of my body. It ran through my veins, energized my organs. I shone bright silver.

I was so engrossed in the sensations that I almost missed it begin.

The tree's silver roots unfurled, toppling it out of my hand. Its branches widened and stretched out. The leaves got fuller and more plentiful. Thick roots moved, slowly creeping over one-another, finding purchase in the floor, solid metal forcing its way deep into the earth.

The book fell open beside the tree. There was an image where there hadn't been before. A beautiful land of rolling hills, forests and lakes. A castle stood proud at the forefront.

Writing appeared in a flowing, ornate hand. It described a handsome and benevolent king who inhabited the castle and ruled the land.

As I read, the tree grew, forcing its way through the ceiling. Branches plunged into the upstairs living room. I heard windows shatter and deep groans as the walls of the house resisted and then gave way, crumbling around me, forced down by the expanding tree.

The large roots changed first, gradually morphing from silver to brown. The transformation crept up the trunk, the silver retreating through the grooves of the gnarly bark, replaced by brown, as nature had intended.

When it reached the leaves, they changed colour with a pop to a bright, healthy green. Transfixed by the tree's sudden metamorphosis from a silver ornament to a healthy, natural living organism, I didn't notice the shift in our wider surroundings.

The pungent odour of roses in bloom engulfed my senses. The pinch of a needle in my arm made me jump.

I turned just in time to see Evan's twisted features grinning down at me.