Arcane Magic (Stella Mayweather Series) (3 page)

"I was early. Thought I'd come look for you. Was that wrong?" I asked, puzzled by her lack of warmth. But then again,
Étoile always seemed distracted these days.

Étoile
shook her head. "No. No, it's fine. I'm happy to see you." She gave me a quick hug before linking her arm through mine and giving me a tug in the opposite direction. "I didn't mean for you to see..."

"It's fine," I cut her off before she could mention Evan. "It's been months now."

Étoile patted my hand and didn't tell me that she caught a waft of my pain and confusion. As someone with empathic skills, not to mention telepathic ones, there was little I could hide from her if I didn't use my own skills to consciously mask it. In this moment, and my surprise, I didn't.

"Important meeting?" I asked, as much to change the subject as out of curiosity.

"A challenging one. Oh hell, Stella, let's call it what it was. A disaster."

"Can I help?"

"Do you have any clues on how to stop them all from arguing and actually cooperating?"

"No."

"It's a good thing the vampires couldn't attend. The way that meeting went, they would have eaten us all." Étoile laughed and shook her head, a lock falling free and bouncing on her forehead as she turned a corner. She tossed her head back and it settled into her waves again.

"Even Matthias?" I asked, referring to her lover of many years, a man she kept secret until recently.

"Even Matthias has an appetite when he smells blood about to be spilled. Come inside." Étoile shut the door behind us and flicked on the lights, illuminating the large space she redid as her office. The furnishings were new and glossy, and myriad books lined the walls. A laptop sat on her desk, along with a couple of framed photographs. One was of her parents and sisters. The second, smaller frame contained a photo of Étoile, Kitty, and me, which was taken the summer we first met. We all looked carefree. How things had changed! We were older now, more powerful, and in some ways, a lot more jaded.

"Distract me. Tell me all about England."

I did, relating the things I'd done, which weren’t much, and how Anders, Daniel and I enjoyed a few day trips and introductions to other witches. Mostly, however, we just hung out, and I helped them with their daily duties. "It was a working trip," I summed up, "but I'm glad I went. A change of scenery... Hey, I brought you something." I reached into my bag, extracting a small packet, which I passed to Étoile. It was only by chance that the gift was in my bag when I shimmered.

She unwrapped it and smiled. "My favourite English tea. Thank you. I will savour this."

"What did you want to talk about that you couldn't tell me over the phone?" I asked, just as a knock sounded at the door.

Étoile
called, "Enter" and a young woman appeared, carrying a large sheaf of papers. She looked around my age, or maybe a couple years younger, and had elbow-length blonde hair and very pale blue eyes, fringed with dark lashes. "Clare Starkwell," said Étoile, "meet Stella Mayweather."

"Hey," said Clare, smiling as she extended her hand. I shook it, finding her warm to the touch, despite her cool appearance. "
Étoile's mentioned you several times."

"Mostly using the nicest terms, too," teased
Étoile, winking at me. "Clare is my new assistant."

"She means dogsbody," said Clare, laughing. "I run around on errands, make phone
calls, pass on orders."

"She's very efficient. Absolutely skilled in being rude while smiling," said
Étoile, making it sound like a compliment.

"I see why you like her," I said.

"And she's trustworthy too."

Clare nodded. "I have a trust fund. I can't be bought."

"Good to know," I said, thinking back to the last Council witch. She tried to exchange a magicked talisman to werewolves, who intended to unlock and use it for a huge sum of money. I confiscated the talisman and now it was hidden, even from me.

"And I’m not seeking power. It sounds like trouble."

Étoile grinned. "Isn't she great?"

"I just stopped by to drop off the paperwork you asked for," Clare said, placing the papers she carried on
Étoile's desk with a dull thud. "It took me forever to find them. They were misfiled."

"That's something Stella knows all about,"
Étoile said, pushing the papers apart with one finger, then nodding as if pleased.

"Right." Clare turned to me. "You've been digitising the archives. You must have read a lot of interesting things."

"A few; some things just seem like nonsense," I answered truthfully.

"I should think Stella is a walking encyclopedia of all things witchy by now,"
Étoile grinned again, as she perused another sheet of paper that Clare laid adjacent to the others. After a moment, she signed it and handed it back to Clare, who said again how nice it was to meet me, and she hoped she would see me again soon before she left.

"She seems nice," I said as the door closed behind her.

"Too nice," said Étoile. "Too helpful. Too perfect."

I glanced towards the closed door as my brows knitted together in interest. "You're suspicious of her."

"I'm suspicious of everyone."

"Paranoid?"

"I want to survive this term. Whose idea was it to run for president of the Council?"

"Yours."

"Damn it! I like Clare, but I have to be cautious. Perhaps less of that for now; how is the work going?"

"You didn't insist that I come all the way to the city to ask me that. You could have asked me over the phone. What's bugging you?" I enquired, cutting to the issue that I knew
Étoile really wanted to discuss. Why she would go through such a charade of questions was more than curious; usually Étoile simply got straight to the point.

"Honestly? There are things I need you to look for specifically while you're going through those files. I need information and I can't go poking around here. There are too many eyes watching me."

"What things? Why?"

"The why is the easy part."
Étoile sighed. "The High Council, toward which so many of us are working, is in danger of not even reaching fruition. We can't agree on key parts of our cooperation. The demons want to run the whole damn thing and they aren't all that keen on democracy. More like a
demoncracy
. The werewolves just want to rip the heads off anyone who disagrees with them, and the witches... well, we just fight and oppose the others, but we're subtle about it."

"Sounds it."

"If we can't agree on getting the High Council into a working framework, it won't happen. We will all go back to being separate and feudal, thereby putting everyone in greater danger. To make matters more fun for me, I'll get the blame for it and be ousted."

"Okay. So... this all sucks. What do you want me to look for?"

"That's just it. I don't know. I think you should look for weak points within the witches. How can the demons attack us and succeed? The werewolves too. I don't trust Noah Wilde one bit."

"Isn't that kind of duplicitous?"

"Forewarned is forearmed, as they say. I want the details. It doesn't mean I'll attack them. I just want to stop them from attacking us, and you can bet they will be seeking the same goals too. There's something else. I want you to look into the backgrounds of some witches. I need to find out if they have any connection to Georgia Thomas."

"Georgia Thomas?" Somehow, the name didn't surprise me. Georgia was once implicated in a treasonous plot, but despite being actually innocent, she still couldn't be trusted. There were too many incidences of her bullying and attacking other witches. She was hell-bent on power and would stop at nothing to get it. We suspected demon collusion, but since
Étoile's swearing in, Georgia had gone to ground.

"I know, I know. She's the gift that just keeps on giving. I need to be a step ahead of her. My network is currently unable to locate her."

I sighed. Georgia being off the grid was not good news, but also not surprising. I couldn't imagine where she was hiding, or what she was doing, but I assumed that it was no good. "Great."

"That's not what I said. Can you look into these things discreetly when you return to work?"

"Of course. You know I will," I said, concluding that Étoile's instructions weren't too dissimilar from my own private research. I would simply continue what I was already doing.

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"If anyone asks, we never had this conversation. I don't want anyone thinking I feel threatened, and I definitely don't want anyone thinking I care one bit about whatever Georgia might be up to."

"I won't say a thing," I promised.

"Good. Now we have that business arranged, shall we have lunch? I've mentioned to
a few colleagues that you're here for a social visit. It would be good for us to be seen."

My stomach gave a small rumble. "Sounds fine to me."

"Excellent." Étoile stood, rounding the desk. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Too late, the feeling of disappointment, and dread, escaped me again.

"Evan Hunter won't be in our restaurant." Étoile joined me, the paperwork forgotten on her desk. "He returned with his father to their quarters. As far as I know, they're leaving the city today."

"I was just surprised to see him," I said, shrugging it off as I walled my feelings away.

"He's been at his father's side at every meeting we've held, not that there were many. He's deeply embedded into their politics now."

"So you've seen Evan before? You never said!"

"It never came up. Let's not talk about this."

"Don't you think it's strange though? He hated his father, he didn't want anything to do with them, and now he's involved in their politics? He made a public outcry against it too," I said, recalling the moment I saw him standing with the demon faction at
Étoile's election. "Them versus us. Don't you think...?"

"I don't think anything,"
Étoile cut in abruptly. "Leave it be, Stella. Don't interfere. Evan has chosen his path and you have your job. I'm hungry. Let's eat. Kitty is joining us. She wants to know all about the baby." And with that, Étoile refused to talk anymore about Evan and I was left just as confused as ever.

Chapter Three

The Amethyst restaurant was surprisingly quiet. The last time I visited, every table was at full capacity. One fatal poisoning had also occurred. Today though, our table, set for three, was right next to windows overlooking the misty city. There, waiting for us, was Kitty. She sprang up to hug me as we approached and I embraced her warmly. I missed her.

"England, huh? You've been gone so long! Are you home to stay now?"

"I still have a couple weeks of vacation, but yes, I'm home," I said, relishing how easily I called it "home," and even better, to have a place that was just that. "It looks like I'm back to work though. Well, kind of."

"Maybe we should take that trip we talked about," Kitty suggested, looking from me to
Étoile. "The three of us? We would have a blast."

"I don't know," said
Étoile, typically offhand as she picked up the menu, perusing it. "Maybe."

"You can take some time off from the vampire boyfriend to hang out with your friends for a weekend."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Matthias totally is her boyfriend," said Kitty, glancing at me for confirmation. "You can't date someone that long and not call him your boyfriend."

"We don't date."

"He stays over."

"Different thing entirely," Étoile replied dismissively, apparently unaware of, or ignoring, Kitty, who stuck her tongue out at her.

"I get the feeling I missed something," I said, picking up my own menu. The food all looked extremely appealing, and once again, I was ravenous. My slightly depleted power supply seemed to need more sustenance. "What's happened since I've been gone?"

"What hasn't happened?" asked Kitty.

At the same time,
Étoile snipped, "Nothing."

"Tell me," I demanded with exasperation. "And don't say ‘nothing,’
Étoile."

Étoile
rolled her eyes, remaining silent, and leaving Kitty to lean forward and tell me the latest which included: Étoile and Matthias were seeing more of each other and she knew he stayed the night several times, not to mention Étoile, who had also spent several nights away, herself. "Plus," Kitty finished, "he obviously adores her. You can see it in the way he follows her around the room."

"Probably hungry," I said and
Étoile laughed.

"Fine,"
Étoile snapped as she lay down her menu. "Yes, we've been seeing each other more lately since I returned to the city, but it's not like I can seriously get involved."

"Why not?"

"Really?" Étoile arched one eyebrow. "He's a vampire. It just won't work. He and I have discussed it on numerous occasions."

"You're a witch; you'll live along time. It's not like a human lifespan," pointed out Kitty.

"He's still immortal," replied Étoile with a sigh. "But that's not the most important reason."

"Which is?"

"The Council," said Étoile, with a simple shrug that failed to disguise the sadness in her eyes. "I can't be seen playing favourites. Dating a vampire would absolutely be called out instantly by the demons and the werewolves, not to mention, our own witches. They will tolerate our friendship, and nothing more."

"So do it in secret," said Kitty. "It’s none of their business."

"Is anything really ever a secret?" asked Étoile. "I'm trying to have a transparent presidency, not one where I play by my own rules, while demanding everyone else abide by a different set." We were quiet for a moment, thinking about the previous presidency, which had done just that. Étoile's predecessor, Robert Bartholomew, might have been a decent man, but his wife had her own aspirations, and her life was terminated at my hands. Even though it was self-defence, I still had a hard time coming to terms with the events of that day. Since my acquittal for her murder, everyone knew what happened in her last moments too, which was, somehow, comforting.

We paused to order our food before Kitty and
Étoile continued their mild bickering. I listened, pleased with how easily we resumed our friendship after the absence, and so glad to be part of our circle. It felt like when we first met at our safe house by the sea. That was when I learned my craft, but only after Étoile rescued me from a fiery fate at the hands of the witch hunters. As our conversation drifted to other things — Kitty's job, the werewolf she'd been flirting with, Annalise's baby, gossip from the Council — I relaxed even further. Just as I was taking my last bite, I looked up to see a party occupying the long table on the other side of the room. I had to restrain myself and tried to remain impassive when I realised they were demons. So much for Étoile's assurance, I decided, somewhat unfairly, as Hunter sat at the head of the table. On his right, Evan took his seat. He glanced upwards, locking eyes with me, and for a moment, a wave of feeling passed between us. Then it was gone and I wasn't sure whether I imagined it. Étoile said something funny, Kitty laughed, and I didn't dare glance over again. I wasn't supposed to care anymore, but I still did.

I found myself recalling our encounter earlier, as well as several times over the course of the day, and even after I returned home, leaving the darkening city behind me. Evan behaved in a similar way to when I first met him: aloof, and seemingly disinterested. But years had elapsed between then and today, and he was my lover for the majority of that time. Could he really feel nothing for me now? Could we even attempt to have a friendship? Would we ever see each other again? And finally, if that was how he intended to keep treating me, did I even want to?

I puzzled over the possibilities until, eventually, thumping aches ravaged my head, and I had to pull on my sneakers and take a moonlit run to clear my mind. The what ifs and the whys would have driven me mad otherwise. By the time I ran a mile, arms pumping and shins aching, I was mad at him and myself. How dare he treat me like little more than a fleeting acquaintance? A nobody! I was mad at myself for even caring. The whole England trip was supposed to clear my head, and enable me to move on. Why wasn't I doing that? Why did just the sight of Evan affect me so adversely?

"Arrgghhh!" I screamed to the wide-open fields on the outskirts of Wilding. "I am done!" With that finally expelled, I ran all the way home, clearer in mind, soothing
endorphins racing through my blood, and the heavy burden no longer dragging me down.

~

I finished my cold lunch of a sandwich and an apple, sitting alone at the kitchen table the next day with only a stack of accumulated, unopened mail for company. After I made my way into the sunroom, which also doubled as my home office, I noticed a new shipment of boxes arrived. They were replete with their own coating of decades-old dust. I still couldn’t work out why whoever sent them couldn't magically remove the messy dust and cobwebs without transporting them to my house. After a short phrase of magic, the dust and webs disappeared, and I grinned with mild satisfaction. The smile was wiped off my face seconds later when the box at my feet split its sides, spilling loose sheets of typed paper across the floor.

"Guess that's where I'll start," I muttered, stooping to pick up the scattered sheets before piling them on my desk. The box was simply tossed into the corner for repair, or throwaway later. It was hardly a new occurrence. Three rolls of duct tape had already been squandered in quick succession on the ancient card boxes. Frankly, it was a miracle they made it through their magical journey still intact at all. Despite the amazing powers and talents bestowed on the witches of the past, unfortunately, archival filing wasn't included.

Powering up my computer, I logged onto the online database where all the documents were being uploaded. Luckily, I didn't have to type out every piece of paper word-for-word. All I had to do was outline the material before assigning it to a category, after which a team of admins (I previously assembled back in the city) performed the majority of hard, tedious work:. They scanned, typed and added the content online, making it available to all witches. That was a process I insisted upon after two months on, when I realised I was utterly overwhelmed.

Étoile
adamantly advocated that everyone have access to the materials that had been secreted away for countless years. While I agreed in principle, I still had some doubts. What if the material were highly sensitive? Or contained details of crimes, or magic, that could lead to the population's detriment? As such, anything I deemed worthy of a second look by Étoile was filed in its own sealed box and sent straight to her office. I transferred more than a dozen such boxes since the start of the program. Étoile was great in giving me the autonomy I required to just get on and work, but as head of the Council, and champion of this project, there couldn't be any room for error. After all, it wasn't like she had the support of every witch in the community. No, there were always dissenters. Compounding that, she also had to liaise with others of our magical world, which operated secretly, yet concurrently in conjunction with the human world. The more I thought about it, the more reasonable her request became. However, I was surprised she didn't bring up the Brotherhood, or elaborate in more detail.

As far as the regular humans knew, magic was just something they read about in movies. Even after the Brotherhood made their big announcement about the existence of witches, they did little more than create a cult-like conspiracy for theorists to debate. While some of these theorists became quite vocal, not that the media ever took them particularly seriously, the Brotherhood essentially remained in hiding. I couldn't decide whether I was glad about that or not. It wasn't a case of no news was good news, but rather the endless waiting and expectation that something was imminent and meant I could never entirely relax. Would I ever be free of their persecution?

Kicking back in my chair, I stared out the long windowpanes toward the woods that bordered my property. Last night it was quiet, but during the next full moon, I would be able to freely observe the wolves that used the woods for their own private recreation grounds. The naming ceremony ensured they'd all be out in full force. It was something I'd grown used to since Annalise and Gage first revealed their secret. Now, only Gage lived across the street; and very shortly, Annalise and Beau would return to their new home with their new baby girl, the latest member of the pack. Life was good and I must admit I was pleased for them.

I could hardly wait to visit them, and personally deliver the pretty baby set I ordered online: but until that time, I had to concentrate on the task at hand: the haphazard pile of paper on my desk. Fortunately, this was a straightforward, though not particularly interesting set. Most of the sheets were handwritten with very pretty pen-and-ink drawings of various flowers and herbs with notes on spells; and it struck me as quite similar to a book Seren and David once gave me as a gift. If I weren't mistaken, this was the author's original notations. How they came to be in the archives, I wasn't sure, but I made a note to tell David of my find. I was fairly sure this would be of interest to many other spellcraft witches too. As it turned out, however, it wasn't my most interesting discovery of the day.

~

Originally, Gage promised to restock my refrigerator and have it ready for my arrival; but since I returned two weeks early, he hadn't gotten around to doing it, leaving me with an empty pantry. Before it got too late, I drove to the grocery store, filling my basket with all the essentials and driving home. I was turning onto my driveway just as dusk began to fall.

Bumping the car door shut with my hip, I made a weird sort of lunging move to shift my bag further up my arm so it nestled into the crook of my elbow, while simultaneously trying to balance two sacks of groceries. Really, what I should have done was make two trips to the car, but the sunlight was quickly diminishing. All I wanted to do was get inside, brew a cup of hot, sweet tea, and ruminate on the day, now that I'd had a chance to clear my mind.

So, I played the balancing game as I walked quickly along the path, my thumb grappling with the remote car key. Not that locking my car mattered out here. With only two houses on a road, which led to nowhere important, barely anyone ventured this far out unless invited. I could leave the keys in the ignition, and it almost certainly wouldn't matter. However, growing up in London instilled some security measures that I undertook automatically. Not that I could afford a car back then, but still, old habits were hard to break. The most important security measures were the wards that guarded my house from any possible harmful intent directed towards me, not to mention truly unwelcome visitors. I could feel the wards vibrating in the air as the warning system embraced the porch.

When my foot landed on the first step, I stopped dead. A large person was sprawled on the porch, his fingers just reaching the doorframe. Judging by his size – thickly set with broad shoulders, and tall – as well as his clothing, he was obviously a man. Dressed in jeans that had surely seen better days, a thick, corduroy coat, and mud-encrusted boots, he lay on his belly, his face concealed by shoulder-length hair. He was very still. My immediate alarm was replaced by a whiff of
otherness
, something that wasn't immediately obvious.
Werewolf.

"What the hell?" I muttered. Setting my groceries on the step, I dipped my hand into my bag and pulled out my phone, hitting “speed dial” as I brought it to my ear.