The Witch Collector Part I Read Free

roaring fire and I began to shiver. “Why did we leave?” I said, fighting tears. “Can we go home? Please?”
    My mother studied my face. “Is that where you went? Our forest?”
    I nodded. “It was years ago. I haven’t thought about that night in forever. How long was I out?”
    â€œJust a few seconds. It’s completely normal,” my mom said. She sounded confident, more like herself. “The visions are part of the process.”
    â€œSo this is it? I’m getting my magic?” The questions ended in a coughing fit. My lungs seized in my chest.
    My mom smiled. “I think so. At the beginning of the process things aren’t always so predictable. Having visions is a pretty clear indication, though. You’ll have one every time you do magic, until your body gets used to the change.”
    I tried hard to listen to every word she was saying, but the pains shooting through my lungs had only begun to calm. My breathing was shallow and labored.
    â€œAre you okay, Breeda?” my dad asked, his voice on edge.
    â€œYeah. Fine,” I lied.
    â€œGo inside with your mother,” he said. “I’ll get the bags.” He dashed for the car as though he didn’t want us to be alone for too long. Dad’s movements were quick and jerky. He opened the trunk and then stopped, bringing his hand to the Irish jade stone at his throat. I knew what he was doing. The numbers on the license plate wouldn’t look anything like what they had just minutes ago. He awkwardly gathered the bags in his arms. Instinctively moving to help, I pitched forward and twisted my ankle, landing backward onto a small patch of grass. The sun shone through the bare limbs of the tree above me, which shook gently until green buds appeared. They morphed into leaves, shielding the reddish gold apples hiding underneath.
    The apple I wanted hung high in the tree. I tried jumping, climbing, throwing my shoe at it—nothing would bring it down.
    â€œI can help,” Gavin said. I had to lean back to see his face. He was smiling at me, and his hair shone in the late summer sun. He picked me up, sitting me on his shoulder. “Now, I want you to stand up, Breeda. I’ll hold your ankles.”
    I shook my head. No. Way.
    â€œTrust me. I won’t let you fall.”
    Shaking, I placed my hands on top of his head and slowly pushed myself up. I swayed just like the tree in front of me. “Grab it!” he said. I reached out and pulled the apple from the tree. Laughing, Gavin spun around and my small body felt like it would lift off toward the clouds. I hadn’t known terror and exhilaration could be felt so closely together.
    â€œInside,” my mom said, and tugged me into the building. I felt the apple-scented air rushing around my head. I could still see the clouds whizzing by.
    We burst into the foyer. It smelled of burned meat and mildew, and my stomach flipped, nausea catching in my throat. The air I could get in came out again in a burst of coughing.
    â€œIt hurts,” I rasped.
    â€œI can help you to control it,” Mom said, taking my arm. “I don’t want you to worry.”
    The three of us sat on the stairs while I recovered my breath. “I had another vision,” I said, once I could manage the pain. “But I didn’t do any magic. Dad did. Why did that happen?”
    My father shared an uncomfortable glance with my mom. “Magic is unpredictable,” he said.
    â€œSomething’s not right,” I said, a leaden feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. “You know what’s wrong, don’t you?”
    â€œWe’ll be fine,” he said, dodging the question. “We really will.”
    â€œWe?”
    My mom’s gaze shifted to the carpeted stairs. “It’s the apartment at the top.” She grasped the banister for support.
    â€œCan’t we just sit here for another