Edgar said the recall ability had been built into the magical transfer because there were often large time gaps between the chosen, and it wasn’t a given there’d be anyone around to train the new heir. The unconscious magical ability was the same situation, only more uncontrolled.
So why hadn’t I already jumped?
According to Edgar, certain higher-level abilities would be more difficult to master. No one knew if flying was the run-of-the-mill type of magic that I’d pick up easily, or the harder version that would take extensive practice.
“Are you sure I even have wings?” I asked, dangerously close to whining. “We’ve seen no evidence.”
“Ivy House chose you. It gave you the magic. Tamara Ivy was a female gargoyle, so wings are part of the package.”
“Youth was supposed to be too, and we don’t have that.”
“That was your misguided notion, not the fault of the magic. Trust me, if you didn’t have wings, Ivy House would slam this trapdoor shut right now to prevent you from falling to your death. It will protect its chosen at all costs.”
I held my breath, looking at the heavy steel of the trapdoor leaning open. Given Mr. Tom’s pause, I could tell he was doing the same.
After a few quiet beats of no activity, I whispered, “Damn it,” and blew out a breath. “Why not try a window on the second floor? That way, if nothing happens, I might just break my leg instead of my neck.”
“You need falling time to figure things out. If you jumped from the second story, you’d probably break your legs just as your wings extended, and you’d almost certainly crush Edgar when he got in your way trying to save you. Besides, I doubt you’ll kill yourself jumping from the third floor. It’s not that high.”
It certainly seemed that high.
“Okay, fine. Okay. Fine.” I shook out my hands. Wind whipped around me. I didn’t see the flutter of Niamh’s black wings within my limited scope of sight. I’d have to trust she was there, and was close enough to swoop in and grab me should things go pear-shaped.
I had every belief things would go pear-shaped. How the hell was I supposed to believe I could fly when just a couple months ago I didn’t even believe magic was real? I thought I was doing a pretty good job of acclimating to the fantastic, but this was pushing it. Wings magically sprouting from my back? And I was counting on being able to use them instantly, something even baby birds couldn’t do without practice.
“This is stupid. What the hell am I doing? I’m going to kill myself.” Clenching my fists, I barely stopped myself from edging backward. My toes hung over the lip. The world swam in front of me.
I thought about jumping. Maybe even just tipping forward and falling.
But, oh God, what if I started spinning or flipping in the air, and my wings did pop out, but I was ass over end and couldn’t right myself, and—
I clenched and unclenched my hands, trying to still my mind. Trying to get into the mindset to jump. My legs felt like jelly. My stomach pinched and energy buzzed through me, soaked through with fear.
Austin’s voice drifted through my head, remembered encouragement from one of the many pep talks he’d given me.
Take life by the balls, Jess. You are strong and confident. You are powerful with or without that magic. You have things to say, and this world needs to hear them. Grab life by the balls and make it yield.
“Yes, indeed. Exactly right.” I gritted my teeth and nodded, leaning forward over the large drop.
“What?” Mr. Tom asked.
“Grab it by the balls…”
“Who?” Mr. Tom covered his crotch.
“Just grab…” Wind swirled my hair. Edgar reached up a little higher, ready. He seemed to think the job of saving me would be left to him. He always had the utmost faith in Niamh, and yet he was acting like she wouldn’t come through.
My mind buzzed. Fear beat a drum in my chest. My stomach flipped as I prepared to jump.
How was Niamh going to grab me without hands? Her other form was a freaking flying unicorn. The best she could do was swoop down under me, but if I was spinning around, I’d just glance off her, go careening, and slam into the ground anyway. There was no way I’d have the presence of mind to grab on to her, and even if I did, she didn’t have a saddle. What was I supposed to hold on to?
“Screw it. Grab life by the balls. Now or never—”2I lifted a foot to jump, my stomach now in my neck, and a strong gust of wind slapped me. So intense it felt solid, it shoved me back, away from the opening. I unconsciously put out my hands to ward it away, and the steel trapdoor swung from its position and crashed down, bouncing on its frame.