A Witch Among Warlocks: The Complete Series Box Set Page 15

  He came up close to me. “Do you really think they are fit to be ethereal warlocks?”

  I had wondered that same thing, of course, but was he suggesting they deserved to be mauled by demons?

  “Charlotte,” he said. “Nothing is wrong.”

  “If you know some master plan, I’d appreciate you telling me.”

  He gave me a smile I didn’t quite trust. “No master plan. I’m just not sorry to see certain institutions…rattled.”

  “I want to know what’s going on.”

  “What’s going on,” he said, “is that no one was hurt.”

  I could tell I wouldn’t be getting anything more out of him.

  By the next day, members of the council had arrived to investigate the incident. If Master Blair didn’t want the council in his business, this had definitely ruined things for him. The campus was suddenly crawling with ancient-looking warlocks in cloaks and a variety of hats that no one except the most pretentious hipsters—or a warlock council member, I guess—would dare to wear. All night, the lights in the main hall stayed on, and warlocks were poking around the scene of the crime.

  In the morning, the entire school was gathered for an assembly inside the grandeur of the campus theater, complete with paintings of the Knights of the Round Table on the ceiling, for a talk about campus safety.

  The Lockes didn’t seem to have learned anything from the incident. Seriously. They walked in, looking worse than they did yesterday. Royce had one arm in a sling. Ronan had stitches all over his face and was limping. They didn’t even look like they should be getting out of bed.

  As they walked in, Ronan gave me a look of death and said, “If you somehow think that casting your little fire magic everywhere means you belong here, you’re dead wrong. You brought this on us.”

  “You brought it on yourselves!” I snapped.

  You know the phrase “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy?”

  Obviously, I really would not wish ‘mauled by demons’ on anyone, ever. But the fact that anyone has to say that phrase to begin with does imply that you may have considered it for a second. I can’t say I had not imagined, in some dark part of my brain, something terrible happening to my tormentors, who had never seemed hard-working or sweet or funny to me. More like the kind of guys who would enjoy beating up a familiar and making a girl cry.

  Despite all that, this seemed like way too close a call. Master Blair was covering something up. Maybe I should say something. But I hardly knew where to begin.

  I went back to my room, clutched my stomach, and hunched over.

  “Are you okay?” Firian asked. “Stomach ache? Maybe you need some peppermint tea.”

  “It’s not the kind of stomach ache that tea will solve. I hate those guys…but I’m not being honest. The demon was going to kill them because they were bullying me! And they’re still bullying me! What if that thing comes back?” I started crying myself, thinking of how my dad would feel if something happened to me.

  “Maybe—in the end—“ He stopped himself, and went to the window, leaning his arms on the frame, his lean and graceful form silhouetted in the bright light of the setting sun.

  “What?”

  “Forget I said anything.”

  “Don’t do that evasive thing,” I said. “Please, Firian. I’m already feeling very scared.”

  “You could have your magic taken away. Then you would be fully human, and the entire magical world would shut its doors to you. Maybe you’d be happier that way. You’d damn sure be safer.”

  “You mean…you too? I’d lose you, right?”

  “I…could become human too. I’d lose my magic as well. And my ability to transform, or travel to Etherium.”

  “You would hate that.”

  “Charlotte…I told you. I live for you.” He prowled back over to me, his face still in the shadows, but looking at me. “It’s never been and it never will be…” He swiped the back of his hand across my cheek, getting rid of my tears. “…about what I want.”

  “Firian…”

  All of a sudden, I was breathless with a need for him to put his arms around me. To hold me and dry all my tears. There was no human in the world like Firian—so graceful, practically glowing from the inside with some magical fire, even when his clothes were always rumpled and untucked. I knew I was in enough trouble already, but I so wished his hand would linger.

  I wondered how I had spent all this time without knowing he existed. He was weaving himself into my life so quickly that I felt a little naked when he wasn’t with me.

  The door burst open and Alec walked in.

  “Charlotte…are you okay?” he asked.

  “Don’t I look it?” I sniffed. My face just felt like a mess.

  “Monty was pretty…shaken.” he said. He paused. “I’m sure it took a lot of effort for him not to eat Ronan and Royce.”

  “Gah…”

  “Well, let me know if you need anything, huh?” He walked over to his easel and picked up a red paint tube.

  “You’re not going to paint the demon attack, are you?”

  “Oh…no. Of course not.” He put the paint down and pondered the canvas.

  He was totally going to paint the demon attack.

  Firian was still looking at me like…well, I don’t know what. Charlotte. I live for you. I’m not sure I could handle this on top of everything else, but I still felt the brush of his thumb on my cheek.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Charlotte

  I was braced for the fall out of the attack. The council spent a couple of days investigating Merlin Academy, a row of dour-looking old men making everyone uncomfortable, entering class rooms and social spaces. I could just tell they hated that I was here, but then they left and Master Blair said he had “smoothed it over”. In the end, the attitude seemed to be ‘these things happen’, which freaked me out even more. Everyone suspected the Locke brothers might have been flirting with the dark side of magic and had brought it on themselves.

  Well, that was pretty believable. Maybe it wasn’t my fault after all.

  However, it was clear that I was not actually going to learn any theurgy or necromancy. The professors were terrified to let me have contact with other worlds. In fact, Professor McGuinness had a whole class about ‘feminine wiles’.

  “Sometimes women have an easier time contacting the ‘other world’,” he said. “The more…mysterious arts. A man’s magic is a straightforward thing, like a man’s heart. A great male necromancer can take a fresh corpse and bring it back with the force of his will connecting with the flesh and bone and crying as if to the heavens, ‘arise!’, but a woman, well, she is more likely to pause to hear his whisper from beyond the grave. What else might she hear? A woman does not control the elements. A woman lets the spirits control her.”

  I raised my hand. Repeatedly. He just kept giving me this little nod like, ‘Yes, I see you.’

  “Man, I thought he had at least a little respect for me on account of being related to Samuel Caruthers,” I groused to Firian as we walked to the next class. “If I can’t learn theurgy, and I can’t learn necromancy, what am I here for?”

  “Start with enchantment and illusion,” Firian said.

  “Yawn. The class about how to look fake?” So far that class was about two things: seeing through other people’s illusions, and creating them.

  “Illusion can be a close cousin to conjuring,” Firian said. “You liked these, right?” He reached a hand behind his back and pulled out another paper container of nachos.

  “Yeah! Only the best nachos I’ve ever tasted…” I reached for them.

  He held them over his head out of my reach. “Like I told you, they’re dangerous to eat.”

  “Because there’s nothing there?”

  “Or is there?” He snapped his fingers and he was holding a plate of cockroaches.

  “Firian! I hate cockroaches.”

  “They’re just an illusion.”

  “You c
ould have proved your point with a plate of something slightly less offensive.”

  “So try to change my illusion into something you prefer. Before they start crawling off the plate and down my arms.”

  “Nachos!” I commanded the plate. It was easy to put some magic into it, because the sight was so disturbing. The crawling pile of cockroaches turned back into a harmless plate of corn chips and melted cheese. He handed the plate to me.

  “Great job. Here you go.”

  I gave him a look and made the plate disappear with a snap of my fingers, which was improvisational on my part but made me feel super cool when it worked.

  “Attitude,” Firian said. “Yes. You should definitely keep with that.”

  “That was a better magic lesson than my classes. Illusions class has been working on stubble and beards for the past two weeks. I’m starting to think Professor Das has a beard fetish.”

  “Well, I’m a good teacher,” he said. “I know what motivates you. I know what stirs your subconscious. When your emotions are provoked, your powers are very strong. It’s true…learning how to hide five o’ clock shadow probably isn’t going to get your magic flowing.” He swung ahead of me on the path, walking backwards as easily as forwards. “If you prove that you have concentration and control in your least harmless class, maybe they’ll give you more respect. You don’t lack the sheer power. So find the things that drive your power. Emotions.”

  “That makes a lot of sense. You are a good teacher.”

  “When you’re too young to go to school, a familiar is your first teacher,” he said. “I have some lost time to make up for.”

  “You wished you’d been able to get closer, didn’t you?” I asked, feeling weird and shy all of a sudden.

  “Of course. It’s in my nature.”

  Yeah, I was starting to feel so strange around him. The more bizarre and terrifying Merlin College seemed, the more I wanted to cling to him, and it was abundantly clear that I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to be learning to survive without him.

  Sometimes I wondered what went on inside his mind. He sounded like any other guy, until he said something that reminded me that he was bound to me. Utterly devoted to me. He couldn’t have lived apart from me if he tried.

  Isn’t that a little creepy?

  So why do I feel so…tingly?

  Why does it make me so happy when he tells me he was always watching over me?

  I wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by someone who was born to protect you.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Charlotte

  The autumn ball was coming up fast now. The guys seemed very excited. Girls were coming from witch universities. It would be my first sight of witches. Many of the guys had girlfriends or fiancees attending different schools that they kept up correspondence with.

  I’ll admit, it wasn’t a terrible thing to work on my illusion skills at a time like this. I didn’t know how to give myself gorgeous hair in real life, but I realized I could make my hair look gorgeous with illusions.

  Illusions weren’t a total lie. You couldn’t suddenly give yourself a different face—at least, not for more than a few minutes. I learned that quickly. But you could take your true appearance and give it a little bit of a glow. I practiced this in the mirror until I was ready to debut my new ‘glow’ at the Christmas ball.

  But there was the dilemma of the dress.

  When I went to high school prom Dad drove me to every thrift store and consignment shop in the Georgia mountains. For the gas he spent, I probably could have gotten something from Target, at least.

  Still, Dad wanted me to have something ‘special’. At the same time, I knew we were more poor than he let on. He was really good at making me feel like we weren’t poor. He handmade a lot of stuff, and did a lot of work on the house, so it had this modernist cabin charm. He liked garage sales and junk shops, and we were both good at sniffing out good stuff for cheap. And we always had plenty of groceries.

  But when you needed a dress for a warlock ball, suddenly none of that was enough.

  “Dad, can you send up my prom dress?” I asked on the phone.

  “Will that still fit?”

  “Of course,” I said, although it was a good point. “If anything else, it’ll be too big. Like I said, the food here is a little weird.”

  “But you don’t want something new?”

  “No one’s seen me in that dress. It’s fine.”

  Mainly I just didn’t want to cause Dad undue stress. I knew everyone else would probably have fancier dresses, but the one I had was a classic little black dress, kinda Audrey Hepburn. It would work well with the plain black dress flats I had brought here with me.

  Five days later the package arrived. I opened it to find my black prom dress—and an explosion of pink lace under it.

  Have kept this all this time. It was your mom’s. Seemed too much for prom, and…well, I wasn’t ready to share it with you then, but I feel differently now. Maybe you’ll like it, maybe not, but good to have options. Take pictures either way. Can’t wait to see you for Christmas. Love, Dad.

  This dress was the opposite of the basic dress I had chosen for prom. That dress was cheap and didn’t look too dated and I could wear it again later.

  The pink dress was a “look at me” dress. It was a 1980s punk pink, bright and sassy, sleeveless, fitted bodice, full skirt. All made of this crazy pink lace. There was a Betsey Johnson label on it.

  Whaaat?

  My mom was a pink Betsey Johnson dress type person?

  I didn’t show anyone, but just tried it on when Alec was out and it fit me perfectly. It was a little wild, but it was adorable. I couldn’t believe it. I must be exactly the same size as my mom.

  Mom…this is the first time I feel close to you.

  I shoved it under my bed. I didn’t even show it to Firian. I was super excited. Between my illusion-enhanced hair, and my glow, and a real dress, I knew I was going to turn some heads.

  Whose head did I actually want to turn…? Well. That was a much more confusing question.

  When the morning of the ball actually arrived, I woke up with a fluttering in my stomach like a kid on Christmas morning. First, I’d get to be at a real ball, with a string quartet and dancing and such. I didn’t know how to dance, but that was fine. Should the moment arise, my partner could guide me through the steps until I gained confidence and he twirled me into his arms and said, “Hey, you’re getting it!”

  That was just Romance Movie 101.

  And shortly after the ball, it would be time for winter break and I could go home and see my dad. Things were looking up.

  I heard an engine outside. A car? I hadn’t heard many cars since I got here. The professors had like, one car between them, and the staff had a couple, and I knew the sound of all of them by now, plus the mailman, who never came through the gates.

  Alec threw off his covers and looked out the window. “Cars,” he said. “I think that’s Anastacia and Demetria Lemaire. I’m gonna go check in on Monty. He knows who drives what.”

  I peered out behind him and saw a silver Jaguar pulling up to the main building. The door opened and a chauffeur got out of the front and opened the back doors for two red-headed girls who were dressed like they were going to a royal wedding.

  This was my first inkling that maybe I wasn’t hot shit after all. I could already hear them. “Betsey Johnson? Who? Oh…that’s cute.”

  Oh, but it was gonna get worse by like, a factor of two thousand.

  Downstairs, I heard the house phone ring. A moment later, a quiet guy named Ellis who was sort of the unofficial rule-keeper of Lancelot House, mainly known for leaving passive aggressive notes about keeping the kitchen and dining areas clean, knocked on the door. “Master Blair wants to see you in his office.”

  “Why?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Now I felt embarrassed just putting on my uniform. I really wished I had a fascinator and a tasteful day d
ress, and also a small dog, a silver Jaguar, and a chauffeur. And a name like ‘Demetria Lemaire’.

  “Good morning, Charlotte. Are you looking forward to the ball this evening?” Master Blair wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  “Yes…”

  “Well, as you know, the council has been monitoring the ongoing situation with the demon.”

  “I actually didn’t know.”

  “Oh. Well. You know I didn’t want to get them involved, but they just love to monitor. Anyway—they are worried about your safety.”

  “I—I can’t go to the ball?” From his body language, I could just feel the build up to disappointment. Maybe the council didn’t want the witches to see me.

  He looked up sharply and then sighed. “God, I wish. No, it’s—uh—you can’t go home for Christmas.”

  “What!?”

  “To be out there…in your home, without protection…you are left completely open to whatever that thing is. Here we have guards and some of the professors and students will still be staying over winter break.”

  “No way. No. I have to see my dad and my grandma. If I don’t come home, they will know something is horribly wrong. And I need to see them. It’s Christmas! I can’t just be stuck here with a handful of students and professors moping around on a mountain top. This isn’t what I signed up for! I mean—could they come here or something? Anything?”

  He looked pretty sad himself. “Humans are not allowed through the gates. We need to keep you safe. We can put an enchantment on your father. He won’t worry.”

  “I want to give up my magic. I’m done.”

  He just kept looking at his desk sadly.

  “I mean it! I’m done! At least just don’t sit there looking sad. Master Blair, please…it’s my dad. He’s already so worried!”

  “Take a deep breath,” he said. “Don’t lose control.”