Spiritbound (4 page)

Grace sat back on the sofa, stroking Fel, an odd sensation really because the cat didn’t have fur, just a sort of flimsy, greasy substance. She scratched under Fel’s chin and the cat’s purr intensified.

That’s good. More
.

The thought ploughed into her mind. She blinked. The cat continued to butt against her hand, demanding more attention.

Grace blinked at the cat, then with a screech leapt up, sending the cat into the air to land at her feet. Fel flicked its tail in annoyance and sauntered away.

Hyperventilating, Grace gaped at the spot where the cat had been.

Her mother raced into the room. ‘What is it?’

Grace pointed at the departing cat. ‘It spoke to me.’

Elvira scoffed and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Enough with the pranks, already.’ She turned to go.

Incredulous, Grace glared at her mother. ‘I’m not pranking. I tell you, it thought at me.’

Elvira snorted and headed to the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway, she looked back and asked, ‘So what did the cat say? What does a cat say, for goddess’ sake?’

A bit calmer now, Grace took her seat back on the sofa and tugged her hair behind her ear. ‘It said what I was doing was good and asked for more.’ A glance at her mother revealed she didn’t understand. With a shrug, she added, ‘I was scratching her under the chin.’

The rolling of Elvira’s eyes forewarned her of her mother’s disbelief. ‘Really, Grace? Can’t you think up something more original?’

She disappeared down the hall.

‘I’m not making it up.’ Grace stood and yelled after her. ‘I can’t help it if Fel has a limited vocabulary. It’s a cat.’

Her mother halted and swung around, eyebrow raised.

‘What do they like?’ Grace continued. ‘Food, well, she doesn’t eat. She’s dead. Someone to scratch their itchy bits? That’s next on the agenda.’

Elvira turned on her heel. ‘I’m very busy now, researching this complex spell. There’s no time for frivolity.’

Grace leaned her shoulder on the wall and gave a soft chuckle. ‘I’m not being frivolous. Far from it. Don’t let me keep you.’

Her mother stood on the threshold to her room, looking at her sideways. ‘Are you sure, dear?’

‘Yes, fine.’ Grace sighed and brushed her fringe out of her face.

‘You haven’t been yourself since…’

Grace chewed her lip then blew out a breath. ‘I’m fine. Forget I said anything. I’m going to find Elena.’

Grace considered that the cat might’ve spoken to her cousin, and perhaps Elena had forgotten to mention it. She didn’t have to read her mother’s mind to know that Elvira thought she was losing it. She could picture the beginning of her mother’s catalogue of issues now—the stress of seeing Declan Mallory, the reminder of her punishment and continued ostracism. Well, she wasn’t losing it, nor did she want to be an object of pity. So Declan Mallory was back in town. He had the right. It certainly didn’t mean that she was losing her grip on reality. The cat spoke, for goddess’ sake. Why couldn’t her mother accept that?

Grace found Elena in the garden digging up weeds, the burnished copper of her hair tied up in a loose ponytail. She was wearing green capri pants and a white linen shirt. Elena brushed the dirt off her hands as she listened. ‘No. I don’t think Fel’s spoken to me,’ Elena replied. ‘But then again, I’m not as strong and as talented as you.’

‘I don’t think that comes into it. The talent comes from the cat.’ Grace found a patch of grass and plonked herself down. ‘At least you don’t think I’m deranged, like Mother.’

Elena dug her trowel into the dirt again. ‘It’s an undead cat. Who knows what it’s capable of? It’s not like there’s a model.’

‘Yes, you’re right there.’ Grace studied Elena, realising her cousin’s mood was low, and tried to think of the cause. She examined what Elena had said and then hit upon it. ‘Hey, don’t be down on yourself. You have talent, you just have to nurture it.’

‘I’m only a half-witch. I’m not going to amount to much.’

‘Keep thinking that and you won’t. It’s your duty to be the best you can be and to explore the limits of your talent. That’s the coven rule.’

‘Is it?’ Elena chewed her lip. ‘I don’t recall that one.’

‘Okay, it’s not the rule, but it should be. Don’t let other people’s attitudes get you down. You have to find yourself and not be bound by other people’s expectations.’

‘You don’t, do you?’ Elena sighed and then sat on heels. ‘I wish I had your strength. The things you’ve had to put up with from the rest of the folk all these years.’

Grace shook her head. ‘What choice did I have? I had to keep positive.’

‘Yet it hasn’t held you back or dampened your spirit. It’s like there’s a light inside of you, Gracie, and no one can extinguish it.’

Love for Elena surged in Grace’s heart. ‘Oh Elena, I’ve had you and Mother to stand beside me, offer comfort. That has helped me through the hard times. But I am what I am and I can’t change for them. I can’t be what the coven wants because that’s not me. I obey the rules because that’s the right thing to do, but I’m not going to pretend that I don’t have talent just so the rest of the coven can feel safe.

‘I don’t expect them to embrace me, but I do expect them to accept who and what I am. Well, maybe someday they will.’

Elena wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a smear of dirt. ‘See, you’re so together. Me, I’m still a mess, still looking to find who I am and what I want out of life.’

‘You’ll find it. Hey, I’ll leave you to your gardening.’ Grace climbed to her feet. ‘About Fel, just keep an ear out.’ She laughed. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘I do.’ Elena banged the roots of a large weed on the ground to shake off excess dirt before tossing it in the wheelbarrow. ‘How are you really, Grace?’

‘I’m good.’ Grace looked up at the sky, studying a cloud formation. Elena still watched her, but she hoped she wouldn’t ask more about Declan. The adjustment to him being around again was not going smoothly. She’d thought she had it under control, but her family kept looking at her and offering sympathy and support. She’d thought Declan was all in the past. Dead. Buried. Done. It had been three days since she’d seen him and it was like someone had ripped a Band-Aid off her heart. It smarted something awful.

‘Well, you know I’m here if you want to talk.’

Grace laughed. ‘What should we talk about? How tall he is? How handsome he’s become, and buff too? Shall we talk about that?’

Elena sat back. ‘Grace, that’s so unfair. You shouldn’t have eavesdropped on your mother and me. We didn’t want to hurt your feelings.’

‘You didn’t hurt them. I agree. He’s all those things, but he’s not for me. You don’t understand. We could never rekindle what we had. Besides, we were so young and innocent. We formed a bond. It’s all forgotten now.’

‘Don’t be so sure.’

‘Look, he has his pick of witches in the coven. Even if he did fancy me, which he doesn’t, I’d be stupid to think it was possible. I’ve been shunned. His family hates me. Now that’s something I wish I didn’t overhear.’ Grace brushed off her pants. ‘I’m going shopping in Balmain. Want to come? I can wait.’

‘I’d love to but I promised Elvira I’d go visiting with her. She is working on a spell to help Jane Kranscomes’ knees.’

Graced nodded and checked she’d dusted the dirt off her backside. ‘Fine then. I’ll see you at dinner.’

***

For some reason Balmain was full of witches that afternoon. Grace had seen four young witches in the first ten minutes of being on Darling Road. She ducked into a boutique to hide from one of them. It was bad enough mingling with the folk at coven rights and events, but casually was even worse. She never knew what to expect. As she saw another witch across the street she pulled back into the store. What were they doing here? One witch who lived locally in Balmain would be considered normal, but unlucky for Grace. The ones she’d spotted were from further afield.

The image of Declan Mallory sprung into her mind. Surely not. She shook her head. They couldn’t all be there for him, could they? But that made sense. It was one of the local shopping areas for the Mallorys. He must be in Balmain at the moment too. Grace smiled at the thought. The poor man was being stalked and hunted. The pressure wasn’t going to let up until he succumbed to one of the witch’s lures. How uncomfortable it must be to have every single witch on the lookout for you, hoping to accidentally-on-purpose bump into you. Well, Declan deserved it for growing up so tall, handsome and buff. She shook her head, pitying those witches. Imagine stooping to such tactics. Where was their pride?

Her standing around doing nothing started to earn her a few odd looks from the other customers. She turned and started flicking through the dresses on the rack with a determination that kept the young shop assistant away. Her heart wasn’t really in it but she put on a good show. Nothing really caught her eye and she soon grew bored.

Yet she didn’t want to be caught in the street by the witches who had decided they liked shopping in Balmain all of a sudden. There was a café two doors down. Perhaps she could secure a nice out-of-the-way table where she could brood in peace. As much as she loved her family, some time alone with no one trying to cheer her up or take her mind off things sounded like a plan. It was time to brood—a luxury she wanted to indulge in.

Checking that there were no more Declan bitch-witches on the prowl, she slunk down the street and slipped into the café. Heart set on the rear table, she ploughed straight into a tall man on his way out. The zing to her senses made her gasp and jerk back. Looking up, she almost passed out. It was Declan Mallory himself. Her mouth fell open.

‘Grace? I’m sorry. So clumsy of me.’

It took a moment before she found her voice. Opening and shutting her mouth a few times helped. ‘Oh, no.’ She swallowed. ‘It…it was my fault. I wasn’t looking.’

He relaxed his stance and smiled. ‘No. I should have been more careful. I hope I didn’t injure you.’

Grace shook her head, unable to form a sentence. Of all the people to run into…

‘Have you come here for a coffee? I hear they have a good selection of speciality blends,’ he asked, making eye contact.

Dumbly, Grace nodded, her face heating. ‘I was…er…heading for that table over there.’ It had just been vacated. ‘Excuse me. I better go grab it before it gets taken.’

She made it past him as he stepped out of her way.

‘May I join you?’

Grace paused and looked over her shoulder. ‘Oh, sure. Ah…fine.’ She faced the back wall so he couldn’t see her face. Her heart beat so fast she thought she was going to faint.
Oh goddess. Be calm. Be collected. People will talk, that is all. He’s just being polite. You can deal with that
.

In the back of the café, she took the upholstered booth seat and Declan pulled out the vinyl and chrome chair opposite, ending up with his back to the street. He was wearing a snug pale blue T-shirt that hugged his pecs and sculpted biceps. His strong hands were resting on the table-top, the fingers loosely threaded together. He was wide enough to block out her view of the street. A quick glance at his pale face, and she saw that he was giving her a frank appraisal. He noticed her looking and smiled.

That smile lit a little tongue of flame along her nerve endings. ‘It’s good to see you, Grace.’

Grace was doing her best to dampen her reaction to him. He was attractive. She was not immune to his physical attributes, the same attributes that had four witches prowling the streets of Balmain. ‘Imagine running into you here. I would have thought Rozelle, down the road, more your thing.’

Declan blushed. ‘Er…it was a little crowded up there today.’

Grace’s tried to look around him to the street. ‘Do you mean there’s a surplus of witches on the street in Rozelle as well? I saw at least four here in Balmain.’

Declan’s expression became flat, his eyelids lowered. ‘Actually there are five here at the moment. Some are quite close.’

It rankled that he’d included her in the count. She was not on the hunt for him. ‘Oh well, that’s what you get when you let it be known you’re looking for a mate.’

He straightened his shoulders, his dark eyes flashing. ‘I didn’t—I’m not.’

‘You’re not?’ Grace rubbed her chin. ‘But I heard—’

He grinned sheepishly and lifted a shoulder. ‘Yeah, my folks are kind of keen for me to settle down. I guess they broadcast the news, but they didn’t really consult me about it.’

‘So what are you doing here? You know, back in Australia?’

Declan relaxed back into his chair. ‘Well, my battle training was over in England and I’m a qualified teacher now. I intend to start a small school, teach the young ones fighting skills. My application is being considered by the council.’

‘Not to give offence or anything like that, but why do we need to train for battle? I mean, we blend in with humans. We’ve been peaceful with the other folk for five hundred years.’

‘You haven’t heard about the dark witch revolt?’

‘Yes.’ She shrugged. ‘But that’s in the UK and Europe. The biggest problem we’ve had here is some of our own leaving the coven and making a new one up north, and that was ages ago, before we were born. Seems to me it’s a free world, and if people want to form a new coven they should be able to. I’ve only ever heard rumours of a dark witch in the north, but no real evidence. If she exists, she must be pretty tame.’

Declan was about to argue, she guessed, but shrugged instead. ‘You know, battle training is not all about fighting wars or battles. It’s about skills—learning new ones, honing them. It works to curb some aggressive tendencies, too. You may not know it but we’ve lost a number of our kind to random violence.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Out there. On the streets. Being able to protect yourself from harm is a skill every witch or warlock should have.’

‘There’s more to it, isn’t there?’

Twin points of colour grew on his cheeks. ‘No. Forget I mentioned it. Let’s just say it’s good to be prepared.’

Grace tilted her head, considering his words. She’d not been paying attention to what was going on overseas, but she intended to now. If there was something to be wary of, she wanted to be across it. ‘I see your point. I did hear a rumour that you were rather good.’