Witch's Brew - Spellspinners 1 (Spellspinners of Melas County) (3 page)

His lips didn’t move, but I heard his voice in my head—arrogant but playful. The expression on his face was deadpan.

“Did you say something?”

“No spells please,” he said out loud.

“So you
do
know who I am.”

He shrugged, glancing back out at the sea. “The flower scent, the eyes…come on.”

“But how can you see through my glamour? I disguised myself before I came up here.”

“I’m not sure, but I can.”

“How can you Hear me? Only my coven elders can do that.”

“No idea.”

“What
are
you?”

“Clearly out of my element. But technically, I’m a warlock.”

I guessed the girl who said warlocks were hot was MUCH closer to the truth than the one who suggested they were nasty, vulture-like creatures. Was this the reason witches and warlocks weren’t allowed to meet outside the Stones? The reason Black Mountain was forbidden? As Leader of the Daughters of Light I had accepted the vow of chastity. No dating. No…anything. But I didn’t care because I’d never been attracted to boys.

Human
boys.

Heat rushed down my arm, pulsing until my fingertips glowed red. The air gave way to my magic as his
shinai
shot from his leather belt loop and spiraled out behind him, landing with a crack a few yards away.

Logan’s eyes followed his weapon, his lips breathing out a sarcastic whistle. “Just a human girl on a nature walk, huh?”

“Touché,’” I admitted. “I’m a Spellspinner. Just like you.”

Logan

He eyed the witch with more than curiosity. Unarming him was smart. He would have done the same thing in her position. “Here I am, trying to be hospitable, and you instigate a fight?”

Her hair fluttered around her face as she spoke. “You can get your weapon back after I’m gone.” When her eyes narrowed they looked like half-moons. Father described witches’ scent like walking into a funeral parlor packed with cheap floral arrangements. Once again, Father was completely off base. She smelled like a garden lily after a spring rain.

“Oh, can I now? You’ll allow me to get my weapon back on my own property?” he laughed.

As he spoke, his
shinai
shuddered and then shot even farther away from them, leaving a stripe of flattened grass in its wake. It didn’t stop cruising until it hit the base of Black Mountain.

“Have a nice walk then,” she said in a nasty voice, but her eyes were smiling. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, and admittedly you have been nice, but I can’t risk a sneak attack. I’m sure you understand?”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“No?” Logan was genuinely curious. “Why not? I’m a warlock, which makes you my enemy—and you
are
on my property.”

“Just because my defenses were down and you overcame me with your spell earlier doesn’t mean I’m afraid of you.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“I thought we were finished playing games.”

“I swear to you, I didn’t do it,” Logan insisted. In fact, he still wasn’t convinced that she’d been enchanted to begin with. “Can you see my eyes?”

“Of course.”

“That’s weird. I concealed my eyes from you.”

She shrugged, didn’t answer, but her face flushed rose. Logan wondered what her skin felt like, then forced himself to push away that treasonous thought. It was her floral scent, nothing more. Entrancing him, wearing down his defenses. As Leader of the Sons of Darkness, human girls were off limits.

A witch
entirely
forbidden.

He tried to catch another glimpse of her amulet, but it was tucked away. “So you have nothing to fear. As neither of us has a reputation in the Gleaning…”

“…yet,” she finished. “Yet.”

“It’s getting dark.” He eyed the long shadows lurking in the canyon. “Please let me walk you out. My…family may not be as easily impressed by a trespassing witch.”

“One of them cast a spell on me, so obviously somebody knows I’m here already.” When Clay reappeared and circled overhead, Lily pointed at the hawk with her thumb. “Great, your bird is back to finish the job. He tried to kill me with a rattler earlier.”

“Clay? No. He was warning me about you. He thought I was in danger. Dropping a snake is a sign that something is happening. Something profound.”

“I’ve never read about that in my witchcraft books.”

“My point is, my fellow warlocks didn’t put a spell on you. I was alone in the grove, and I didn’t see you until you were already sleeping.”

“Oh, and warlocks are known to tell the truth.”

He blinked. “We are.”

“Um, yeah, okay, dude. This has been fun, but I have to get out of here.”

Everything inside him wanted her to stay.

“So is that cool? May I walk you back? I’d hate to see this nice exchange end badly. Besides, if you say no, I’ll follow you anyway.”

Hair whipping her face, she surveyed the mist-covered Black Mountain. Logan should alert Father, his brothers. He should report her, this trespassing witch. It was treason not to. But then the amulet caught his eye again, its indigo light complementing her sea-glass eyes. He knew he’d do no such thing.

Lily

If Iris or Orchid or—goddesses forbid—Camellia saw me conversing politely with a genuine warlock, they would die, kill me, or die trying to kill me. And if they knew what I was doing up here in the first place, they’d kill me even more.

Yet my body angled toward the warlock, his energy drawing me to him. The weird part was it didn’t feel bad. It wasn’t dark, it didn’t feel evil.

I wasn’t afraid.

“You can’t follow me.”

We could not be seen together. My coven could never know I was here.

He read my face and my mind.

“Ah…” he said. “You were trying to cheat with euca leaves.”

I faced him. “No I wasn’t.”

Too late. I rubbed my forehead as he Heard my entire confession.

“Look. Please don’t say anything to your master. I wasn’t on a coven mission or anything. How are you doing that? Reading my mind?”

“Occupational hazard,” he said, apologetically.

“You shouldn’t be able to.”

“I’m still not sure,” he said. “During this walk I can Hear you, but only some of the time. Not sure what the trick is.”

Then a strange thought occurred to me. I might not have a handful of euca leaves, but I had a real live warlock in my presence, who seemed willing to talk. I had to find out as much as I could to help me at the Gleaning. What were his weaknesses? His strengths? So far he didn’t seem that different from me.

And besides, walking beside him wasn’t exactly torture.

“So is it true you aren’t allowed to watch TV or read newspapers?”

“Are you going to report this back to your coven?”

“No. Honest.”

“No internet even?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Father, I mean, my master, doesn’t want us involved in human matters.”

“Your master is your father?”

“My legal guardian, yeah. And since we’re banished from the human world, we are also banished from the virtual human world. Make sense?”

“Yes. But that sucks.”

“We don’t exist in the human world so it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Isn’t this their air you’re breathing? Their trails we’re walking on? Their electricity you use? Or do you not use electricity either?”

“Cheeky,” he said. “We’re allowed one light bulb per room.”

I smiled. He had a good sense of humor.

He shrugged. “Anyway, how could I miss something I didn’t even know about?”

I imagined on my drive home—leaving this mountain—I might find out.

“So what is your school like?” I asked.

“You know, the usual—skinning rabbits, burning cauldrons…”

I narrowed my eyes. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

“I’m a bit of a pushover for a pretty girl, but I’m not stupid.”

When we got to the outer ridge, outside the fog bank and into pink twilight, I pointed out my Jeep.

“I suppose this is goodbye,” Logan said.

“I guess so,” I said. “Thanks for not trying to kill me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, “not to try and kill you.”

I surprised myself by raising a palm to Logan, a gesture of peace.

He held his own palm up to mine, taking the gesture further. Friendship.

First the energy between our palms was quiet, static pulsing. But then, cool wispy rays of pastels popped into the air and grew bolder. Light danced like trapped faeries as the soft energy darkened into primaries.

My palm began to burn, but I couldn’t pull away. Kaleidoscopes of heated rainbows bounced between our hands, freezing them in place.

I closed my eyes, picturing myself falling backwards.

The spell worked. I tumbled back. “Did
you
do that?”

“I swear. I have no idea what happened.”

“You have a reasonable explanation for everything,” I grumbled, frustrated and in pain.

His eyes were wide, earnest. “I swear.”

I let it drop. I had to take care of this burn. Blowing healing breath on my stinging skin, I watched the burn fade slightly. As if by reflex, Logan clenched his own hand into a fist, but not before I saw the identical black burn mark.

“Are you okay?” I wanted to blow on his hand too, but it seemed too reckless. What might happen if I soothed a warlock with my charms?

“Your necklace,” Logan said.

I lifted my amulet, and then dropped it back to my chest with a shriek. It was white-hot. Fumbling with the chain, I cried, “I can’t get it off!”

Logan grabbed the chain and ripped it off my neck. I watched, dazed, as he yanked his black T-shirt off over his head. He dropped the amulet into the cotton and tossed the burning bundle onto the ground.

I fought the flames with a cooling spell, until the shirt was no more than a pile of ashes and cloth; the indigo stone throbbed with whirls of light.

“My amulet,” I said, more than a little stunned—a shirtless warlock standing next to me—my precious, though before this moment, inactive, heirloom sizzling in the dirt.

Logan grabbed my arm. “Wait. It’s still too hot.”

He was so close I could feel his earthy breath on my face. I blinked. “Thanks for helping me with the chain.”

He reached out and grazed the skin under my blister. “I wish I had something for that. It looks bad.”

“So does your hand,” I said. He had saved me from the burning amulet; the least I could do was try to ease his pain. I flipped his hand over and lifted his palm to my lips. His face relaxed under my cool breath.

“Thank you,” he said, meeting my eyes.

“You’re welcome.”

“You sure you’re okay to drive home? I could…” His sentence trailed off. He’d what? Drop me off at my house and ask Iris to drive him to his secret warlock academy?

He knew it was beyond ridiculous, too.

“I’m afraid we better part ways here,” I said, surprised at the sadness catching in my throat.

“Let me just grab my shirt,” he said.

I watched the muscles in his back move as he hovered over what was left of his T-shirt. “You never told me your name,” he said, without turning around.

“It’s Lily.”

More ink appeared, spreading across his smooth back in a variety of distinguishing patterns.

Impressive. What was it that caused his ink to rise?

Did it have something to do with me? The amulet? Both?

“Well, the shirt is a total loss, but your amulet is okay.”

“What makes your ink appear?”

He looked surprised.

“The markings that were on your arms in the field? Just now, I could see them on your back, too.”

Looking down, he shrugged again. I could tell it was a personal thing, and I felt rude prying.

Still, I couldn’t stop staring at the vivid patterns on his muscular arms, at the way his protruding veins moved like black rivers. Some of the markings looked like letters from the Old Language. Some resembled Celtic signs I knew, but these were original art. I wondered what it all meant. Did he know?

I tried to swallow away the bittersweet pang in my heart when he looked back up at me.

This was it.

The next time I saw him would be at the Gleaning. We could be fighting.

Enemies.

Where one of us ended up a hero, and the other ended up…

“Thanks,” I said. “For this. It was…well…”

Thus far the most fascinating moment of my life? I couldn’t say that.

“Whatever this was, I’m glad I met you.” Logan backed away slowly, keeping his brilliant eyes locked on mine, his cryptic ink fading away as he put distance between us.

It would be treason to admit how I felt, that I wanted to hang on to him another moment. So instead, I answered as honestly as I could.

“It wasn’t too awful meeting you either.” I grinned. “See you in the Stones, then?”

“If I don’t see you first,” he said.

I watched until his lanky, magical, perfectly unobtainable silhouette disappeared into the dusk.

And then I wondered if I was still enchanted. If I was still asleep on that rock. If Logan was only a dream.

Logan

Logan snuck into the mansion quietly; he didn’t need a key, the door unlocked for him automatically. But if he were caught coming home after curfew Father wouldn’t be happy. His head was whirling. He could still smell her flower scent. Buzzing all over, he hadn’t felt this way in as long as he could remember.

Once he ensured Father was asleep he’d try and piece together what happened. Sneak into Father’s library. Do some research?

Hands tucked into his pockets, he made it up the marble stairs, and past enormous paintings of the Ancients as they hovered over twisted writhing bodies with their medieval weaponry. Logan pretended the torture-art didn’t creep him out, but it did; it had ever since he was little.

He was just about past Jacob’s room when he heard an angry hiss cursing the air. Stumbling over an arched, hairy back, he fell hard into a velvet frame.

Stupid cat.

“It’s not Cleopatra’s fault,” the voice growled. Logan’s stomach lurched. Jacob stood stiff and irritated in his silk night robe.