Spiritbound (2 page)

‘No, my darling girl, of course not. You’re just thirteen years old. The statute doesn’t cover minors. But they’re sure going to make a song and dance about it. I doubt this will be forgotten for a long time. You may suffer for it in other ways.’

‘Declan said he could never see me again.’ Grace wiped at the moisture on her face.

Elvira tilted her head to the side as she considered this. ‘He may not be able to, my darling. Right now he’s scared but he’ll get over it. Unfortunately, I can’t see his mother allowing him to associate with you again. Not after this.’

‘But we—’

‘I know, my darling girl, but there are some folk that you can’t reason with and Delores Mallory is queen among them. Don’t worry about it for now. You’re too young to form a lasting passion. You’ll see. Declan Mallory will be a distant memory when you’re older.’

Elvira squatted down and scooped up their pet’s body.

A punch to the stomach couldn’t have wounded Grace more. Forget Declan, after what they’d shared? Not possible. Grace buried her face into her mother’s side and sobbed into her skirt. Elena hiccupped and took Elvira’s other hand as they headed around the back. The ghostly cat followed along behind them, its tail down, as if it knew the gravity of the situation.

***

Grace and Elena sat in the dark hallway, peering into the lounge room and listening to the council proceedings.

‘You’re saying Grace didn’t know what she was about? Didn’t know she was performing a forbidden act?’ This was Mr Mallory, Declan’s father.

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Grace is not scheduled to be taught about the forbidden arts until next year, and how not to perform them until the year after that.’

‘My son said she did it without effort, without thinking.’

Elvira nodded. ‘Yes, she did.’ Grace heard the pride in her mother’s voice and didn’t understand it.

‘A powerful witch then. Such skill and strength in one so young,’ commented Martha Burton, one of the elder witches. ‘Do you think she can be cured of her tendency for necromancy?’

A few of the gathered witches and warlocks twitched and made signs of protection.

Her mother stood up and straightened her shoulders. ‘Martha, I think my daughter would have to do more than bring a cat back to life by accident to be considered to have a tendency, don’t you think? You have not considered the nature of the cat. This is no stray tabby we are talking about, but a cat descended from a long line of folk-bred felines.’

‘She should be ostracised,’ Mr Mallory said, pointing a finger at Elvira. ‘Sent up north. Away from here. She’s a dark witch. She belongs there.’

Elvira sucked in a huge breath. ‘My daughter is not a dark witch.’

Martha drew herself up to her full height. ‘Enough!’ Elvira and Declan’s father blinked and then faced the elder. ‘Mallory,’ Martha continued, ‘I have examined the child and she is not touched by dark. We will not be sending one of our most talented witches away to be taught by other less-than-savoury elements in a breakaway coven in the north. She will remain here.’

‘But—’ he began to argue.

‘She will be punished.’

‘How?’ Elvira asked, her voice carrying a hard edge.

Elena squeezed Grace’s hand. Grace lowered her eyes and bit her lip. This was awful.

‘For one year, Grace is to be taught at home. She is not to socialise with other members of the coven. Tutors will be assigned to her, and she will be drilled in the forbidden arts, starting tomorrow. At the end of the year, she will be tested.’

‘And if she doesn’t pass your test?’

‘Then, Elvira, you will have a choice to relocate with your daughter.’

Mr Mallory shook his head. ‘You’re too lenient. I won’t have the girl near my son anymore. He’s spent too much time with her already. You’ve all been concerned, given their ages.’

‘It’s true; the coven has been concerned. But we have trusted in Declan to treat her with care.’

Mr Mallory scoffed. ‘What about keeping him safe from her? She’s a bad influence.’

Elvira scoffed. ‘He’s a young, fifteen-year-old boy. A good boy. A warlock of no mean talent. How could my thirteen-year-old daughter harm him? You’re being ridiculous.’

‘Now, Elvira, let’s not inflame the situation,’ Martha interjected.

Mr Mallory paced the room. ‘I won’t put up with this insolence from her. We’re leaving Sydney and that’s it.’

‘A sad loss to us, Mallory,’ Martha Burton said. ‘Are you sure such delicacy is necessary? I understood the young people had formed an attachment—’

‘Absolutely not,’ he sneered at Elvira. ‘Not with a member of the Denholm clan. We let them play together, to mingle, but no more.’

The heavy push of tears made Grace lower her head.

‘There is a very good school in England. My mother has connections there. We shall make arrangements to leave immediately.’ He turned to the other members of the council and bowed to them. ‘I will take my leave of you.”

As the door slammed after him, Elvira sighed. ‘A bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?’

‘For Mallory? I don’t think so,’ commented Martha. ‘He’s been highly strung for years. You forget what happened. Then there’s that wife of his. There’s no need to remind you of the bad blood there.’

Elvira met her stare. ‘No, I don’t forget anything.’

‘Elvira will you accept the judgement on behalf of your daughter?’

‘I will.’ Her words were ground out.

‘Then we will leave you.’

Elena tugged on Grace’s arm, pulling her back into their shared bedroom. As she lay in the dark, silent tears bathing her face, she knew it could have been worse. Yet she’d lost her best friend, forever. Her heart was irretrievably broken. She wasn’t allowed to talk to her other friends for a year. It was too much to bear.

Elena wrapped her arms around her. At least they had each other. The image of Declan and the look of revulsion on his face stayed with her. She’d thought they’d had shared a special bond. They had touched each other’s minds. But that was all to be forgotten now.

Grace entered through the front door of the community hall and searched the crowd for Elena. Her cousin chatted gaily with Danila Newman, a witch from Cronulla. Elena must have made a joke because Danila threw back her head to laugh, sending her sun-bleached hair rippling down her back. Grace stood a little taller and headed over.

‘Grace, you made it.’ Elena swooped in with a kiss to her cheek, then gestured with her glass. ‘You know Danila Newman, don’t you?’

Grace hadn’t spoken to Danila for more than nine years. Grace put out her hand. ‘Hi, I’ve not seen you in an age.’ Danila’s gaiety fled and her dark blue eyes dropped to Grace’s proffered hand. The young witch lifted her chin, made a scoffing noise and turned away.

‘Ouch,’ Grace said with a cheerful grin as she watched Danila disappear into the crowd.

Elena swung around, gaping at the departing witch. ‘The nerve of her. I thought all that stopped years ago.’

‘Mostly. Gee, it’s packed in here.’ Grace put on a big smile and snaffled a glass of sparkling wine from a passing tray. She took a sip, her gaze travelling over the crowd, searching for anyone she knew or who cared to acknowledge her.

Elena rubbed her back. ‘I can’t believe some people still hold grudges. The council lifted the sanctions on you when you were fourteen and you’ve been a model witch since then. Is this why we didn’t have a party last year for your twenty-first?’

Grace shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ Her mother had thought it best to have a quiet celebration, although reaching twenty-one was considered a major milestone for one of the folk. Most families celebrated with the whole coven. Taking a mate was equally important and also celebrated, something Grace hadn’t done either. No warlock came near her.

Being a couple of years older when she came to live with them, Elena hadn’t gone to their special school. Elvira hadn’t thought it was necessary because Elena was a half-witch. So her adopted sister hadn’t seen first-hand the slights Grace had endured. Then again without the distraction of having friends, Grace had excelled in her studies. Unfortunately, that only made matters worse. The more she excelled, the more she was hated. Then she’d become such a good witch, people were afraid of her. The label necromancer was firmly stuck to her hide.

A tray full of yummy hors d’Oeuvres passed by and Grace grabbed a few before the waiter disappeared into the crowd. ‘Want one?’ she asked, with her mouth half full as she offered a prawn and avocado titbit to Elena.

‘No. I already ate a heap before you got here. The smoked salmon and mayo ones are divine by the way’

‘So what’s new?’ Grace asked as Elena eyed the crowd. ‘Anyone interesting?’ Someone interesting was usually someone from another coven who they didn’t know and who would talk to them, because they didn’t know about Grace’s reputation.

Elena started. ‘No. No.’ She shook her head, and threads of red hair floated free from her chignon. ‘No one you’d be interested in.’

Grace’s scalp crawled. ‘What is it? There’s something you’re not telling me. Spit it out.’

Elena shrugged. ‘Oh, just a rumour.’

Grace looked around, her sense of unease growing. ‘What rumour?’

Elena sighed, then leaned in to speak into her ear. ‘The Mallorys are here tonight.’

Grace’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Oh, great.’

Elena frowned and looked at her feet. ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

‘He’s here, isn’t he?’

Elena’s head shot up. ‘Don’t do this to yourself.’

‘Too late. I’m determined to rid myself of his ghost.’ Grace darted off into the crowd, determined to find a good vantage point from which to view her first love. Was he as scrawny and gangly as she remembered? Was he still holier-than-thou? Would he still be afraid of her? That brought a smile to her face.

Her emotions span out of control too. There was anxiety and excitement fluttering in her stomach. She didn’t think she’d react this way. It was not a good sign. After all this time, she ought to be indifferent. She’d been so young when she had loved him, yet thoughts of him lingered. The hurt was just as raw as it had been that day. She’d not seen him for nearly nine years—a veritable lifetime. Would she even recognise him?

A tall warlock moved and there, in her line of sight, was Declan. It hit her like a physical punch. She wanted to slide back into the crowd so he wouldn’t see her but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. It was the Declan she knew, but not. He was a man now. He’d be twenty-four. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes that sat elegantly in high cheekbones. He smiled, and the sun rose inside her. Memories of that horrible day sped into her mind, but she flicked them off like flies. This was the moment she longed for and dreaded. He was talking to someone with long, blonde hair. The woman turned and she realised it was Danila and her heart sank. A gorgeous, blonde witch. Great. Declan threw back his head and laughed at something Danila said and then he looked directly at Grace, speared her with his gaze.

Blood thumped in Grace’s ears. The voices around her merged into a thrum. There was only her and Declan. He smiled at her, white teeth dazzling in his shapely mouth. She returned the smile, yet she was wary. Maybe he didn’t recognise her.

Next, he was excusing himself and heading in her direction. Panic stations blared in Grace’s brain.
Oh goddess! What will I say?

‘Hello, I’m Declan Mallory.’ He had a delicious British accent.

Her heart sunk. ‘I know.’

He chuckled. ‘I didn’t think anyone would remember me. I’ve been gone so long.’

‘Eight years, four months, five days.’

He frowned. ‘What?’

Grace threw up a smile, even though she knew she was doomed. ‘That’s how long you’ve been gone.’

She exhaled slowly, waiting, just waiting for the penny to drop. He studied her face, her hair. ‘Grace?’

Lowering her head, she stared at the floor, unable to meet his gaze, unwilling to see the hate.

A finger touched her chin, gently urged her face up. ‘You look stunning, Grace. I don’t think I would’ve recognised you. You’ve changed so much.’

Her heart fluttered at the look of admiration on his face. ‘You look pretty good yourself.’ He’d removed his finger from her chin, but her skin still burned from his touch.

He chuckled then, but she could tell he was thinking about that day. It was a cloud shadowing his eyes.

Rose Mason, a tall, dark-haired witch came up. Grace suppressed a groan. Rose was arch enemy number one, being her chief tormenter in school. Grace kept her face devoid of emotion. ‘Hi, Declan,’ Rose said gaily. Tossing her dark curls over her shoulder, she smiled lusciously into his face. ‘It’s so good to meet you.’ She edged between them, nudging Grace out. ‘A group of us are getting together at Bondi Beach tomorrow. Please say you’ll come.’

Declan frowned. ‘Excuse me. I was talking to Grace. You do know Grace, don’t you?’ He stepped around Rose and nestled closer to Grace.

Rose turned slightly and lifted her nose. She smiled at Declan as if he’d not mentioned Grace at all. ‘I can pick you up in the morning, if you like. Please say you’ll come.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m otherwise engaged. Won’t you acknowledge Grace?’

Rose turned around. ‘Riordon,’ she said in a sulky voice.

‘Hello, Rose,’ Grace replied, shifting from foot to foot.

Declan’s dark brows drew together as he narrowed his eyes at Rose. ‘How can you be so rude?’

Of course it hurt being snubbed, but Grace had built up a tolerance for it. Still, having Declan notice and calling attention to it filled her with shame. It was as if the whole room was pointing at her, vilifying her, instead of just tolerating her. Forcing Rose to acknowledge her presence made Grace confront the ostracism head-on, something she had not done for years. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable backlash.

Rose backed up, taken aback by Declan’s vehemence. ‘She’s a necromancer. Dark witch material.’

Grace’s face heated. Why did she do that? Why remind Declan of that day?

Declan snorted then slid his hand to Grace’s elbow and moved her away, without even saying goodbye to Rose. Grace took a deep breath to steady herself, using her talent to rid her face of the embarrassing blush.