her.
“It’s as easy for me as it is for you to make a fist, but it comes from here.” Sarah pointed at the area of her heart. “It’s a limited capability, like strength or energy is to you.” She gestured toward the wooden wardrobe. “You know you can push that armoire over, but not a car. We have no real limitations like that thanks to dark matter. Dark matter itself is unlimited, and witches can access it for additional power, but, let’s just say it’s very expensive to use. There is always a cost for casting with dark matter.”
“I don’t know why, but I half believe you,” he managed in a thick voice.
“It’s true. The night I met you in the Target parking lot, that bomb was me.”
Again his mouth opened and closed.
“I try not to do that. I had PMS.”
A faint huff of laughter shot out of Paul’s mouth.
“I guess it sounds kind of funny, but really it’s not. When dark matter flows through a witch, it increases in volume. Causing dark matter to expand in the universe is a very bad thing, and there are consequences.”
“Like with gravity or anti-matter?”
That must have been a really good community college. “Even more immediate problems. There’s always a backlash for casting. That woman in the pickup was rude to me, so I did something to her. The cost for it came due. We call it an aftershock. I tried to pay it myself—that’s why you found me flat on my back on the pavement—but I’m afraid it got you too.”
Paul looked at his forearm as though he expected to find it black and blue and shredded like hers.
“I wish,” she continued, “that what it did to you had been as simple as bruises. Dark matter is as intelligent as light, but it looks for weakness and takes advantage.”
“Are you telling me this dark matter stuff is evil?”
“Yes, and it wants me.”
He widened his eyes. “It doesn’t already have you? You’re not evil? Voldemort sure was.”
The comment hurt. She blinked, hoping her eyes wouldn’t water, and glanced away from his candid brown ones. “I’m trying not to be, but I am a dark witch.”
“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
She met his eyes. “Call it like it is, Paul. Don’t be polite to evil. It gets a good foothold because people don’t want to be rude.”
“Sarah, this is the oddest conversation. You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”
She bit her lip and considered how to respond. She settled with flicking two fingers at his black cowboy boots. A force slid Paul two feet closer to her. He shoved to stand immediately and backed up to the door.
“Believe me now?”
“Don’t do that again.”
“Okay,” she said. “I won’t.” He appeared to be taking it well, although it seemed his logical brain kept trying to protect him and convince him it wasn’t real. A lot of people did that, pretended what they saw wasn’t real. It made them more comfortable. It made them feel safer. That’s why there was so much dark matter.
Paul shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kept a safe distance. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because the dark side wants you too.”
He glanced around the room. “What do you mean?”
“That night in Target my spell reverberated onto both of us. It tried to bind us together. You made it worse with your poem, tightening the noose. I tried to loosen it with that icon of yours.” Sarah pointed at the pewter cross on his neck. “I left hoping distance would weaken it, but you keep coming back, Paul. And you touched me now. Several times.”
Turning his hands palm up, he looked at them. “Are you saying I’m going to start making fires?” He moved his fingers as though attempting it.
“No, I didn’t say you were a witch. Dark witches are always women and we’re born to a bloodline, not made. I’m saying you and I are bound to each other as a payment to dark matter. Collateral, if you will.”
Paul dropped his hands and tilted his head to the side, frowning.
“It’s as easy for me as it is for you to make a fist, but it comes from here.” Sarah pointed at the area of her heart. “It’s a limited capability, like strength or energy is to you.” She gestured toward the wooden wardrobe. “You know you can push that armoire over, but not a car. We have no real limitations like that thanks to dark matter. Dark matter itself is unlimited, and witches can access it for additional power, but, let’s just say it’s very expensive to use. There is always a cost for casting with dark matter.”
“I don’t know why, but I half believe you,” he managed in a thick voice.
“It’s true. The night I met you in the Target parking lot, that bomb was me.”
Again his mouth opened and closed.
“I try not to do that. I had PMS.”
A faint huff of laughter shot out of Paul’s mouth.
“I guess it sounds kind of funny, but really it’s not. When dark matter flows through a witch, it increases in volume. Causing dark matter to expand in the universe is a very bad thing, and there are consequences.”
“Like with gravity or anti-matter?”
That must have been a really good community college. “Even more immediate problems. There’s always a backlash for casting. That woman in the pickup was rude to me, so I did something to her. The cost for it came due. We call it an aftershock. I tried to pay it myself—that’s why you found me flat on my back on the pavement—but I’m afraid it got you too.”
Paul looked at his forearm as though he expected to find it black and blue and shredded like hers.
“I wish,” she continued, “that what it did to you had been as simple as bruises. Dark matter is as intelligent as light, but it looks for weakness and takes advantage.”
“Are you telling me this dark matter stuff is evil?”
“Yes, and it wants me.”
He widened his eyes. “It doesn’t already have you? You’re not evil? Voldemort sure was.”
The comment hurt. She blinked, hoping her eyes wouldn’t water, and glanced away from his candid brown ones. “I’m trying not to be, but I am a dark witch.”
“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
She met his eyes. “Call it like it is, Paul. Don’t be polite to evil. It gets a good foothold because people don’t want to be rude.”
“Sarah, this is the oddest conversation. You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”
She bit her lip and considered how to respond. She settled with flicking two fingers at his black cowboy boots. A force slid Paul two feet closer to her. He shoved to stand immediately and backed up to the door.
“Believe me now?”
“Don’t do that again.”
“Okay,” she said. “I won’t.” He appeared to be taking it well, although it seemed his logical brain kept trying to protect him and convince him it wasn’t real. A lot of people did that, pretended what they saw wasn’t real. It made them more comfortable. It made them feel safer. That’s why there was so much dark matter.
Paul shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kept a safe distance. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because the dark side wants you too.”
He glanced around the room. “What do you mean?”
“That night in Target my spell reverberated onto both of us. It tried to bind us together. You made it worse with your poem, tightening the noose. I tried to loosen it with that icon of yours.” Sarah pointed at the pewter cross on his neck. “I left hoping distance would weaken it, but you keep coming back, Paul. And you touched me now. Several times.”
Turning his hands palm up, he looked at them. “Are you saying I’m going to start making fires?” He moved his fingers as though attempting it.
“No, I didn’t say you were a witch. Dark witches are always women and we’re born to a bloodline, not made. I’m saying you and I are bound to each other as a payment to dark matter. Collateral, if you will.”
Paul dropped his hands and tilted his head to the side, frowning.
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