Spellbound (the Spellbound Series Book 1) (5 page)

“Shit, sorry. Just… thinking.”

I look up, and notice the girl with the purple hair from yesterday watching me again. Except this time, her curious golden eyes don’t dart away when she realizes she’s been caught. Instead, they’re glued to me, as if she’s trying to figure me out. No, more like… she knows exactly what I am, and what I can do. And I’ve suddenly become much more interesting. It’s possible that I’m imagining things, but… if I didn’t know any better, I’d think this girl might be on to me. I watch her as intensely as she’s watching me, until she sighs and goes back to writing in her book.

I pull my focus back to my own table in time to hear Rachel ask, “Where were you this morning? Jenna said you weren’t in Creative Writing, either.”

Damn. I should have thought of an alibi a long time ago. I shrug, and decide to tell Rachel a sliver of the truth. “Remember when I told you I got mugged yesterday? And some guy stopped to help me out?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, we bumped into each other again. We hung out for a while, got to know each other a little better, then he brought me here when we realized what time it was.”

“I am agog; I am aghast! Is Heather in love at last?”

My cheeks start burning again, and I kick Rachel under the table as I mutter, “Shut up! I’m not in love with Nick, I just met the guy.”

“Well, you clearly feel something for him. I’ve never seen you blush so hard.”

“I… we’re not… Okay, he’s attractive, and he seems like a decent guy, but I don’t know if I can see myself with him.”

“Well, why not?”

For a split second, I consider saying,
Oh, maybe the fact that he’s a blood-sucking creature of the night, and I’m a freak of nature that can kill a vampire without ever touching him
. But I think better of doing so, and instead respond with, “We’re just very… different. Plus, he’s kind of older than me.”

“How much older are we talking?”

“He looks our age, but there’s no way to tell how old he actually is.”

Rachel seems to have a response for that, but it catches in her throat. Her eyes narrow with suspicion; it’s almost as if she’s somehow guessed at what I’m trying to say. If that is the case, she’s keeping her speculations to herself, and I suppose it’s with good reason. The existence of vampires and other supernatural beings isn’t exactly common knowledge, and if she’s pieced together that Nick is one of them, then it probably means she has firsthand experience with their world as well.

Thankfully, Jenna arrives before either I or Rachel says anything incriminating, and drops her food down on the table as she sits down next to me. We switch to talking about what I missed in Creative Writing, but throughout the rest of the lunch period, Rachel and I watch each other carefully, and I can tell we’re each wondering what exactly the other is hiding.

Chapter 6

The minute I get home, I check to see if my mom is back from work yet (she’s not), then if there’s anything to eat (there isn’t), and since both inquiries turn up negative results, I bring my laptop out to the living room and turn it on. While I’m waiting for it to boot up, I pull the pebble out of my pocket and hold it out in my outstretched palm. It’s strange; I’ve been waiting all day to test out my powers, but now, looking at this stupid pebble, I’m beginning to doubt myself. How can I ever do something great if I can’t handle the smallest assignment? I want to hurl it across the room, or out the window, but I try to calm down and focus on making it float. At first, the pebble only wobbles like before, but after a few seconds of straining, I manage to make it float a few inches above my palm.

I laugh, and start to make it move around in circles. By the time my laptop is completely booted up, and I’m logged into Facebook, the pebble is zooming around the living room at my command. In my excitement, I almost forget to check my friend requests, and when I click on the little icon, I can hear the pebble hit the floor and skid across the room.

One request, from a mister Nicholas Brandt. The profile picture features three people, but I can make out Nick’s face in the middle. I click accept, and since we’re officially friends on Facebook, I exercise my Constitutional right to stalk his profile. It’s a pretty sparse profile, almost to the point of being depressing; he’s only posted twenty statuses in the past year, and he only has seventy friends, counting me. There aren’t many pictures either, at least not of him alone. I’ve seen enough; I’m about to log off and do some homework when Nick messages me.

Nicholas: Hey.

Me: Hey.

I wasn’t prepared to actually have a conversation with him online. My heart starts beating a little more quickly than usual, but I’ve recovered from the shock by the time he sends his next message.

Nicholas: How are you adjusting to things?

Thank God. He might not type as quickly as I do, but at least he uses proper spelling and grammar.

Me: What do you mean?

Nicholas: In the past few days, you’ve nearly been eaten, found out that supernatural beings actually exist, discovered incredibly rare powers, and used them to rescue the guy that saved you.

Nicholas: Just saying… I get it if you’re a little overwhelmed.

I hadn’t thought about it that way until now. They way Nick makes it sound, I went from being a boring, nerdy girl to a badass vampire slayer. It’s an interesting transition.

Me: Nah, I’m feeling fine. I’m used to that sort of stuff already.

Nicholas: Really?

Me: No… I just thought that would make me sound cool. =P

Me: Wait… do you even know what =P means?

Nicholas: I’M NOT THAT OLD. =P

Me: Whatever you say!

Nicholas: Krys wants to know how you’re doing with your assignment.

Me: Not bad, actually! I was flying it around the room for a while before I got online.

Nicholas: Nice. She says she wants you to come over tomorrow for your first official lesson.

Me: Sure. What time?

Nicholas: I’ll pick you up after school?

Me: Okay. See you then.

Nicholas: Okay.

I guess that’s Nick’s version of a goodbye, because he’s offline before I can even type out mine. It’s weird… we basically made small talk for a few minutes, but I’m still grinning like an idiot when I close my laptop. In spite of my vow to keep him at a distance, I think I’m starting to get attached to him. And I’m not sure how to feel about that.

With just a gentle push from me, the pebble rises from the ground, and begins to slowly float in circles around my head as I reach for my Ancient History textbook. Now that I know for a fact I can control the pebble, it’s almost effortless to do so. I try to focus on the book, but my thoughts dwell on anything but the pages in front of me. Somehow, reading up on the doings of ancient civilizations seems even less appealing than before. I think it’s because, for the first time, my present is more interesting than someone else’s past.

***

After school the next day, Nick is waiting for me by the front entrance, like I expected. Rachel asked to meet him, but I wasn’t about to let her. I may not be sure of how I feel about Nick just yet, but I do know that I don’t want her dropping hints around him or playing matchmaker; I can make things awkward enough on my own. Thankfully, Nick doesn’t look a day older than nineteen, so most of the people swarming out of the school walk right by him without a second thought. I wait until there are less people around to descend the stone steps and greet him.

“Hi,” he says back, and he flashes me his gorgeous smile as we start moving in the direction of the condo. At first, we walk in awkward silence, but by the time we’re halfway through Central Park, we’re playing a game I made up called It’s No Bullshit. We each come up with something that we don’t think the other will believe, true or otherwise, and if the other party doesn’t believe it, they call bullshit. The one with the most accurate bullshits called at the end is the winner. So as we walk into Nick’s building, the doorman looks incredibly confused when he hears what we’re saying:

Me: “I’ve worn a dress before.”

Nick: “Bullshit.”

Me: “Nope, totally true.”

Nick: “Umm… trolls and goblins are real.”

Me: “Really?”

Nick: “No… at least, not to the best of my knowledge.”

Me: “Hmm. I can bench press 240.”

Nick: “Bullshit!”

Me: “Yeah, you got me. Guess that means we’re tied.”

We’re standing in front of Nick’s door, and Nick is digging in his pocket, when he says, “You look really pretty today.”

I glance at my elongated reflection in his bronze doorknob; I’m in jeans and Converse, covered up by my ugly, puffy brown coat, and my hair’s been blown every which way by the wind. I grin at him, and say, “Bullshit. I win.”

Nick grins back at me, and says, “That wasn’t part of the game,” then unlocks the door and holds it open for me.

I’m not given much time to dwell on the compliment, because Krystal is waiting for us in the living room, and as soon as we step inside, it’s down to business. I reach into my pocket and pull out the pebble at her request. Then, with hardly any effort on my part, I mentally push the tiny rock until it’s circling around my head rapidly. Krystal has me maneuver it towards various points around the room, until she’s satisfied that I’m in complete control of the pebble’s movements. Finally, I call it back to my palm, where it lands softly as my fingers close around it.

Krystal seems pleasantly surprised. “Nice job,” she says, “but now we’re gonna try something a little different. Try doing the same thing to the couch.”

The couch in their living room is about eight feet long, and made of a dark, solid wood, with thick black leather cushions. It probably weighs more than anything I’ve ever lifted on my own, but all the same, I direct my energy towards getting it off the ground. It shudders, then slowly inches upward until the armrests are nearly at my eye level. Krystal gestures upward, so I raise the couch higher, until it’s almost touching the ceiling. I hold it suspended in midair for a few seconds, and then gently let it float back down to its original position.

Apparently, Krystal is satisfied with my performance. “Most beginners don’t get the hang of it so quickly,” she says. “You’re a natural at this.”

I’m proud of myself, for the first time in a long time. I’ve never been particularly skilled at anything, let alone gotten praise for doing anything I’ve found easy. I ask Krystal, “What would you like me to try next?”

“Destroy the pebble.”

“Excuse me?”

“Destroy it. Instead of focusing on making it move, I want you to send a current of energy through it, with the intention of making it explode.”

I don’t know why, but I’m almost reluctant to destroy the pebble; I must have somehow gotten attached to it. But I do as Krystal says, and much to my surprise, the pebble explodes in a shower of dust, and covers a considerable portion of the carpet.

If Krystal wasn’t impressed before, she sure is now. “Yeah, you’re a natural,” she says. “Even if destructive spells are easier than the ones that require more finesse, they’re still usually way beyond the abilities of someone who’s been learning for a day.”

I take a seat on the couch I just levitated, and Nick joins me while Krystal goes into more detail about magic. “Regardless of the terminology that the different clans may use, our kind have traditionally divided magic into several branches; elemental spells, transformation spells, summoning spells, banishing spells, healing spells, and protection spells, for example. Almost all of the branches overlap in some way or another, and each of them can be further broken down into light and dark spells, then further into benign and combat spells. Now, I’d have liked to start you off with blah blah blah, but blah blah and blah…”

I wish I could pay attention to Krystal, but it seems like an impossible task. I’m itching to actually
do
magic, not talk about it. She notices that I’m basically staring into space, and asks, “Did you hear any of what I just said?”

“Honestly, no… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’ll give you the short version. I’m teaching you protection spells first, so when we get to bigger stuff, you probably won’t die. After that, I’ll let you choose.”

I have so many questions, but my mind goes blank when I notice the shirtless man walking into the living room without warning. He looks to be about twenty three, and in pretty good shape; his chest, arms, and legs are all kind of hairy, but obviously well toned. In short, he’s not bad looking for an older guy, and a few people I know would be drooling over him. I, however, am not too impressed. He spots me on the couch, and asks, “What’s your name, kid?”

I’m a little annoyed that this stranger just called me kid, but I politely respond, “Heather.”

“Heather, huh? I’ve been hearing that name a lot these days.” He grabs a shirt out of what I hope was a basket full of clean clothes, and introduces himself. “I’m Landon, your friendly neighborhood werewolf.”

A werewolf… I had a feeling those existed too, but I’d neglected to ask. Landon seems as far removed from what I thought a werewolf would be as Nick does from my mental image of a vampire. If he hadn’t said anything, I would have assumed he was just a normal guy. Landon throws on his shirt, and announces to the room, “I’m heading out for a run. If you want something from outside, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Krystal and Nick both shake their heads, so he shrugs, and heads out the door.

Krystal and I put our heads together, and draw up a schedule that basically says I come over five times a week, which means more opportunities for Nick to pick me up from school, which I don’t mind at all. She decides that we’ll start next week, and that I’m free to go. Nick offers to walk me home, and I gladly accept; I’m gradually coming to appreciate the time I get to spend with him, however short it may be.

The sun is well beneath the horizon, and the streetlights have taken over lighting the streets as Nick and I step out into the night. We stand in front of his building awkwardly for a moment before I realize Nick doesn’t know where I live, so I’ll be the one leading the way. As we round the corner, I ask, “How long have you been friends with Landon?”