he said, reading my reaction. “Consider it a…religious experience.”I glanced over at Logan, who shrugged, like Just trust him, and let’s get on with it. “Where do we get the water?” he asked Chance, who looked at me.I couldn’t spin a whole bath full of water out of nothing, so I led them to where I knew a natural brook ran. “Is this good enough?”Chance’s eyes were steady and focused. “Should be. We need eight and half quarts.”“Can you heat it up?” Logan asked me.“I don’t normally heat things up. I’m more of a cool down kinda witch.”“I got this,” Logan said, with a cute glance that made my knees weak.He knelt beside the brook, set his palms over the water, closed his eyes and concentrated on supplicating his energy. I couldn’t tear my eyes off his back as the muscles tensed and relaxed with the rhythm of the heating spell. His thin white tank top barely concealed the thick, weaving patterns of his ink, which conjured the image of an ancient language scrawled on a cave’s wall.
