Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(42)

“You didn’t cripple him!”

“Oh, no!” her mother exclaimed. “That was a workplace incident. He was in the burn trauma unit for a few months, though.”

Morgan stared at her.

“Fireballs,” Tandy said again. “I was a stupid, idealistic kid.”

But what if it could work? Morgan fingered the soul stone in her pocket. A solid piece of Darkness was very different than someone with a fleck of Dark in them. It almost seemed easier to burn Darkness out of someone than to mess with the soul stone.

It wasn’t going to help her find a solution to being with Beck and safeguarding the stone. But for Dawn … she considered.

Why couldn’t it work? Beck had once claimed she could help him with the Light, and Decker seemed to think she was supposed to be doing that as a counterbalance. Was this how? By frying the Dark out of Dark witchlings?

Elsa was a Light fire witchling, one powerful enough to pass down her magick through a thousand years of witchlings at least.

“What happened to Elsa’s father?” she asked finally, tossing new ideas around in her head.

“Not sure. The story Grandma told me never said.”

Morgan chewed on her lower lip, pensive. “You’re right. I want to believe it to be possible.”

“It’s a nice thought.” Tandy dug out snacks from her backpack.

“How much damage did you do to Dad?” Her mind went to Dawn and the baby. She didn’t care at all about hurting Dawn, but Beck’s daughter was a different story.

“Third degree burns over most of his body. There was an earth witchling with me who was healing him as I burned him. I lost control at one point and the earth witchling couldn’t keep up, so your father bears some scarring.”

Fire burns. Earth heals. An odd sensation drifted through Morgan. Beck was the Master of Light, which meant he was the most powerful earth witchling alive. And there was Sam, the forest yeti who healed her when her leg was broken trying to flee Dawn.

So there were people powerful enough to heal the damage she caused. The question wasn’t if they could protect Beck’s daughter, but if she could burn hot enough to char the Darkness out of Dawn.

“Am I stronger than you, Mama?” she asked.

“In many ways, if what I suspect about your uncle is true.”

Morgan flushed and ducked her gaze, not ready to discuss that topic. “I mean magick-wise.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Strong enough to burn the Dark out of someone?”

“I don’t know what that’d take, Morgan, and I don’t think it’s even possible. I know Elsa was said to have done it, but that’s just a story. We can’t verify any part of it.”

Morgan fell silent, unable to let go of the idea. If it became her only option, she didn’t know how she wasn’t going to try it. She had to try something.

“How did Gordon find out about the soul stone?” she asked.

“I told your father after we got married,” Tandy said sadly. “I think, after the divorce, he was angry and wanted to hurt me. He took you and told Gordon my secret. Gordon threatened to tell others if I kept fighting in court to get you back, but I did it anyway.”

“Did he tell?”

“As far as I know, he didn’t. But there’s no telling. He’s unstable.”

I already know that much. Gordon’s lack of action eased Morgan’s concern for her father. Perhaps her uncle was all talk when it came to other people and he wasn’t alone with her.

“You know our flame colors?” Her mother’s hand ignited, each finger flickering with a different color flame.

Morgan nodded. “Red is warm, blue the hottest.” She tapped her mother’s flames.

“There’s a color hotter than blue,” her mother said. “Grandma said Elsa had flames that burned purple-black before turning pure white. I never really gave that much thought, though. Can you imagine how pretty a purple flame would be?”

Purple. Morgan had seen flecks of purple in her white flames, those brought on by extreme emotion. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen purple, either. The first time she met Sam in the forest, before the events of December, she’d summoned flames that randomly burned purple. She hadn’t though them special before, just a new expression of her magick.

She held her mother’s hand an inch from her face to study the flame colors. Her mother’s blue flame had no trace of purple or white. She didn’t have her mother’s control yet to try to summon a single flame that was hotter than blue. She’d have to try it somewhere away from anything flammable.

“Mom, my candy flames were always pink,” she said, referring to the bursts of warmth she often handed to others that needed the comfort.

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “When did you start making them? After the divorce?”

Morgan nodded.

“Morgan, a normal fire witchling’s flames don’t range from outside the colors of a natural fire.”

Morgan willed a candy flame to appear in her palm and held it out.

Her mother summoned one as well and placed her hand beside Morgan’s.

Tandy’s flame was orange, while Morgan’s was brilliant pink.

“It’s beautiful, Morgan.” Her mother took the pink fire, a smile crossing her features as the flame melted into her skin and gave her a hug from the inside out.