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  Instead, we walked inside of what seemed like a fine dining restaurant. “Good evening.” A young man greeted us with a simpering smile. “Do you have a table reserved this evening?”

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to reserve a table.”

  “It’s only if you have friends you want to dine with,” he said. “It’s not necessary. I will give you a private table.” He picked up a menu and showed me to a small table in the corner, after we had walked past larger tables of warlocks eating together, talking loudly, drinking. He was talking to me in a snobbish tone about the resident chef here at the college.

  “What about Firian?”

  “Your familiar is not on the dining plan.”

  “I’ll taste yours,” Firian said, sitting down across from me.

  “But—this seems really unfair.”

  “I’ll eat in Etherium. But…can I have a glass of wine? Maybe a merlot? I have money.”

  The young guy’s smile faltered for a moment. “Of course.”

  The sound of soft music and louder conversation filled the room. Candlelight flickered on Firian’s face. “I’m just here until you make some friends,” he said.

  “Friends?” I scoffed. “They’re not very welcoming. I’ve never seen college age boys so resistant to having a girl around…

  Firian looked at me. “Were you bullied that much in middle school?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Uh…let’s not talk about that.”

  “That bad?”

  “No, I just…”

  Firian glared at the wall as he unfolded a napkin and put it on his lap. “Is that what you were crying about in the backyard that one day?”

  “When?”

  “It was six or seven years ago. I was tempted to talk to you, but your dad really didn’t want that to happen. Of course, he was right. I couldn’t help you hex your classmates. And it would have just added to your angst, I’m sure.”

  “If only I could bring a therapy animal to school.” I laughed drily. “I probably would have been more popular if I had a pet fox.”

  The waiter brought the merlot and a coke for me.

  “So are we just not having a drinking age now?” I asked.

  “I don’t count,” Firian said. “Familiars are much more mature at birth. Witches and warlocks tend to be more mature as a result. You didn’t have that benefit, though. But culturally, this isn’t your world.”

  “That explains a lot, although not why everyone is a perfect specimen of manhood. I need to get me some of that glamour magic.” I paused. “So does that mean that if you take the magic away, everyone is dumpy and boring? Oh my god. It’s like living in a dating profile, where everyone posts the best picture ever taken of them from ten years ago. Is that it?”

  “Benton wasn’t hot,” Firian said. “You need something to work with in the first place. Harris looked weird, right?”

  “Um…I don’t know…he wasn’t ugly.”

  “You’re hopeless,” Firian said.

  “Why are we even talking about this? Everyone keeps looking at us.” Plus, the room was full of laughter and conversation. Every guy here seemed to be in a group with friends. It was somehow even worse than being the weird kid at a normal high school.

  “Good merlot, at least. You should order.”

  I looked at the specials of the day. The menu was very meaty. Good thing I didn’t have the eating habits of a girly girl. It was not vegetarian friendly at all and there was only one salad. “Beef and barley sausage with house pickled beet root and herb dumpling,” I said, looking at the menu. “I’m not sure I want this to be my only source of food.”

  “Witch cuisine,” he said. “Upscale witch cuisine. It’s very ‘old world’. More witches live in weird places, like Eastern Europe or Finland or Mongolia. And they keep to themselves, traditionally. So you get a lot of, you know, pickled things. It’s very on trend, Charlotte.”

  “Yeah, yeah, well, when you’re raised by a single dad, no one is making a crock of house pickled beet root. It was a real surprise whenever dad broke out of the pizza, hamburger, spaghetti, grilled steak loop.”

  “His carbonara is good,” Firian said. “With the parmesan cheese out of the shaker and all.” Then he glanced up and gave me a look sharp sort of face.

  I turned. Montague was coming my way. Harris was glaring at him from behind. Montague looked like he was going to mess with me. He also had a short cloak tossed around his shoulders. No kidding. This was happening. Men with capes was happening.

  He spread one hand on the table and leaned in to me, ignoring Firian. His sleeves were rolled up now, revealing very nice forearms with an old-fashioned gold watch around one wrist. I was inexplicably kind of intrigued by this cape and watch statement. I couldn’t believe Benton ran the clothing shop. “Do you have any questions with the menu?” he asked, with a faint smile.

  I bristled. “No.”

  “I hear the chicken liver is delicious.”

  I laughed. But no. He was right. There was chicken liver on the menu. “I’m good, thanks. I don’t think Harris likes you talking to me.”

  “As if I give a damn. I just saw you sitting here alone and nothing seems more unfortunate than the sight of a young woman dining alone.”

  “I’m not alone. Firian’s here.”

  “Ah, yes, well, that doesn’t really count, does it?”

  “Firian doesn’t count? As a person?”

  “Just drop it, Charlotte,” Firian said.

  “But that’s ridiculous!”

  “Firian is not of this world,” Montague said. “If you have him hanging around, you seem like a child who needs to be protected every moment. And you don’t need to be protected every moment…do you?” He trailed a finger down my arm.

  I yanked my arm back, incredulous. “Whoa there, buddy. You can’t just touch me like that!”

  “You don’t like to be touched? I apologize. When I am out among the common folk, they seem quite pleased for me to touch them.” His voice was low, flirtatious, and as far as I could tell, genuine. I mean, I had no doubt that most of the ‘common folk’ at my high school wouldn’t mind Montague touching them. He had warm brown eyes you could melt into. But it was obvious that I needed some ground rules around here.

  I heard the sound of crackling fire and glanced over to see Firian aflame. I mean, a faint purple-blue fire effect was actually wafting off of him. “I am protecting her,” he said. “I don’t care what you think about it. She’s not here to impress you.”

  “I really hope you’re not jealous,” Montague said. “Jealous familiars get in trouble, from what I’ve heard. Bad enough when they fall for anyone, but your own witch?”

  “I’m not falling for anyone, I’m protecting my witch from a pit of horny warlocks who are trapped behind walls,” Firian sneered back.

  “I just wondered if you wanted some company,” Montague said. “But maybe your familiar does the talking for you.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m fine alone. I was just wondering what kind of man can pull off a cape, and…I’m still wondering.”

  Montague actually looked a little genuinely insulted. “In my hometown, we have a story about this.”

  “About what?”

  “Familiars who fall in love with witches. A century ago, in St. Augustine, a witch and a familiar fell in love. It tore the entire town apart and unleashed darkness on the land. Where I come from, familiars are not permitted at the table for this reason.”

  “Where you come from…are you talking about the same St. Augustine that’s the tourist town in Florida where my Grandma and Grandpa went on vacation once?”

  “I’m talking about a town that has seen some very dark events.”

  “It has a fort, right? And a Ripley’s Believe it or Not museum.”

  “Well…there is the…human side, yes.”

  Harris stood up in this really self-important way. Like, all these guys had it dialed up to eleven all the time. Shoving chairs, slamm
ing hands on tables, wearing capes… Life as a warlock was intense.

  “Sit down,” Harris said. “We’re not going to acknowledge this travesty any more than we have to.”

  “What? Travesty? You mean me?”

  “We’re supposed to be studying magic,” Harris said. “Men’s magic. This is not a place for a witch. And lay off Montague, you don’t know what he’s been through lately.” He gave Montague a weird look.

  “‘Men’s magic.’” I narrowed my eyes, standing up as self-importantly as I could manage in order to meet him. Of course, I immediately realized they had six to eight inches of height advantage. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. Maybe you should leave your cage a little more often. Unless the magic is making your dick bigger, I don’t know why men and women should have different magic.”

  “You can’t handle our magic.”

  “Challenge accepted!”

  “It wasn’t a challenge. It’s just a fact. Women have never been able to handle the aggressive arts without messing it up. The history books are filled with those stories. You’ll see.”

  “You’re seriously telling me that women can’t be aggressive? Your history books are filled with stories of ladies trying to do cool stuff and getting the vapors? How convenient.”

  “Try summoning a demon by the end of the year without getting yourself in trouble,” he said. “Without losing control, or falling in love with the demon, or something like that.”

  “Fine! No problem! I’m not falling in love with a demon. Jeez.”

  “Harris…I just wanted to offer her some company,” Montague said. “You’ve never summoned a demon…have you?”

  “We’ll both summon a demon,” Harris said. “If she’s still even here by the end of the year.”

  Suddenly double doors burst open from the kitchens and the chef stormed out waving a knife around. He was an older guy with crazy hair that I feared had to be getting in the food now and then. But, this was getting exciting. “Sit down,” he said. “There is too much commotion out here. My restaurant is a place of contemplation. How are you to savor the flavor of my cured gravlax if you are here talking nonsense about summoning a demon?” He paused and looked at me. “Oh…you are…the girl.”

  It was clear that he wasn’t happy with my presence.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m the girl. And I want my food to go.”

  “Don’t let them bully you,” Firian said.

  “I don’t care anymore. I have never seen a bunch of men who were so annoyed at having a girl around.”

  “I like girls very much,” Harris said. “Just, in their proper place.”

  “I like girls too,” Montague said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Please, sit down. Cyrus, make the lady something good.”

  “There has never been a woman at Merlin College,” Cyrus said. “This is unacceptable. What will happen if other women want to attend? The food I cook is for men. What, am I to start making tea sandwiches and fruit salads?”

  So. This was what I’d be dealing with. Sexism you couldn’t usually find nowadays without a time machine. Or maybe, to be fair, hanging out at that one hardware store in my hometown where a girl couldn’t buy a screwdriver without the old man at the counter saying something about it.

  I grabbed the bread basket. “Actually, this is good. I love bread. Thank you.”

  “I love bread, thank you?” Firian said as I stormed out. “That was your parting shot after all that?”

  “Shut up,” I said. “I thought I did pretty well considering I am ganged up on everywhere I go.”

  “But you can do better. Don’t give them an inch, Charlotte. I don’t know why you’re here, but seeing how ridiculous this place is, I commend whoever enrolled you. Merlin College could use a shake up.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the one to shake it up.

  “I forgot to pay for the merlot,” Firian said with a shrug.

  Chapter Nine

  Harris

  This was no place for a witch.

  That was one thing I knew. I was the one with six older sisters, after all. Men had no business with witch magic, and women had no business with warlock magic.

  “Maybe I should have worded things better,” I muttered, sliding back into my chair after tearing my eyes away from Charlotte. “I should have told her that witch magic is just as powerful and respectable as warlock magic instead of challenging her to summon a demon. Now when she gets hurt, it’s on my head. But she ought to be taught a lesson.”

  “She’s in school,” Alec said. “I think that’s the point.”

  “You know what I mean. The professors will go soft on her.”

  “Maybe she won’t get hurt,” Monty said, sipping ‘rare steak blood’. AKA, plain old cow blood, but Cyrus tried to put a good spin on it. I tried not to stare. “I didn’t need you to charge over there.”

  “Nothing good will come of you flirting with her. Anyway, I know she’s not your type. You just smell blood, isn’t that how it works?”

  “No. That’s not how it works.”

  I wasn’t used to my best friend being a vampire. We’d managed to talk on the phone exactly twice over the summer, since it happened, but he had pretty much been at the rehabilitation center—getting all spelled up and learning techniques to help him function in our world, so he could go in the sun, and not kill us. And whatever he said, he’d changed since it happened. Genuinely changed. As in, I didn’t entirely trust him with a girl, especially a girl like Charlotte who seemed clueless.

  “I can control myself,” Monty said, casual. “That’s why I take those pills. Alec’s the poor bastard you should worry about. What is Master Blair thinking?”

  “He’s not thinking,” I said.

  “Charlotte is my type,” Monty added. “She’s female. She seems nice. She looks quite adorable in the uniform.”

  “Is that your criteria?”

  “What’s yours, then?”

  “A talented witch from a good family with sophisticated manners.”

  Monty gave me a look of disdain. “Of course it is. But, that’s fine. You won’t be jealous at all if I make her mine.”

  “I won’t. She’s just a normal human, basically. I can’t believe she even has powers worthy of attendance. It’s not appealing to me. Anyway, I can’t just date anyone I like. I have centuries of great magic users, ancestors who would curse me from beyond the grave if I stooped to a lower level.”

  My mother already had a line up of girls in mind for me, and I got to see them every summer and Christmas vacation. One was the daughter of the head of the New Orleans coven, one was the daughter of the late, famous diviner of Chicago, and one was from Russia, descended from a disciple of Rasputin, although my mother was about to knock her out of the running because she liked listening to pop music. Once I got out of Merlin college, I would choose one of those three.

  Charlotte? Well, she was a disgrace. Her voice was loud and she had a faint Southern accent, and not the acceptable kind. Her movements were sort of…bouncy, and she had a computer user’s slump. She still had her familiar hanging around like a little kid. And, word was she had no experience with magic. So, I didn’t care if her full lips were rather sexy spouting off insults. Unlike my two best friends, I didn’t think with my dick.

  Plus, if I wanted a loud wife, I could choose Daisy.

  “Listen to yourself,” Monty said.

  “It’s true,” I said.

  My family was the most famous of all magical lines in the western world. Yes, there were many, but my ancestors came from a marriage of a Hapsburg witch and a vampire hunter who was renowned for having twenty kills, Florin Nicolescu. The family home on the Hudson River in New York was full of old world paintings of my illustrious ancestors and treasures of the Hapsburgs, and the library was full of journals detailing their exploits. Whenever we met anyone new at a party or gathering, my mother would look them up in the records as soon as we got home to see w
here they fit into the tapestry of witch bloodlines. As soon as she heard that Monty had been turned, she got out the book, found his entry, and wrote, “Turned” in her fine cursive.

  Then she clapped the book shut. “You won’t be hanging out with him anymore,” she said.

  Yes, my parents were a lot of fun. But they had a point. I was furious at Monty for being such a dumbass.

  “She’s going to be sleeping in Alec’s room,” I said. “We won’t have a chance with her anyway.”

  “Maybe that was true,” Monty said. “But I’m a vampire now. I have my own seductive powers. Incubus versus vampire. We shall see.”

  “I’m focused on my studies,” Alec said. “You know that. You can have her.”

  “We shall see how long that lasts,” Monty said. “She’s already checking you out. You’re going to lay awake at night listening to her breathe.”

  “I am not,” Alec said. “I’m not just some mindlessly sexed up demon. I’m a warlock and I’m going to make my dad proud, and when college is over, then and only then, I’ll find a wife who can keep up with me.” He lifted his coffee cup and grinned in his understated way.

  “No complaints from me, my friend,” Monty said. “Then, she’s all mine.”

  I was irritated at him for reasons I couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Are you sure you should kick off your first year of college with pursuing the most controversial student? Don’t you think you caused enough trouble last year?”

  “I wondered when the judgments would begin,” Monty said. “I lived for the moments. I have no regrets.”

  “No regrets about being turned into a vampire?” I asked, incredulous.

  Whenever Monty, Alec and I got into a little trouble in high school, my family always knew Monty was the ringleader. My family had agreed that a little fun on weekends was all right—in high school. Before things get too serious.

  But he’ll pay for it someday, my mother always said. That Monty. Either he will get his head on straight, or he’ll regret it forever when he falls afoul of the council.

  My mother was usually, infuriatingly, right. Monty had been irresponsible and stupid, and now he was a vampire, his prospects ruined.