Chapter Six

He’s standing at the back of the store, holding one of the new indie romance novels in his hand. There’s a half-naked man on the cover, with his jeans unzipped, and abs shaded to stand out against the dark and grainy background. Lifting his eyes from the book, Lucas looks up right in my direction. He can sense me, and it’s creepy.

“What the hell?” I whisper. We’re yards away, but I know he can hear my voice. Binx winds around my feet, moving in perfect stride with me. I’ve never once tripped over him.

“Why, hello to you too.” Lucas looks back down at the book. “Have you read this one? I find this passage very exhilarating.” His voice is slow and breathy, and if I didn’t like books so much, I’d pull it from his cold, dead hands and hit him over the top of the head with it.

“I haven’t yet, but if you’re going to crack the spine, you better be buying it.”

“Yet? Then I will buy it and will think of you when I finish this sex scene.” He flips the page. “You know, I’ve heard women complain that sex in real life is never as good as it is in books. Obviously, they’ve never been fucked by a vampire.”

“Keep your voice down,” I hiss.

“You’re rather prudish for someone who half-owns a store full of erotic romance.”

“I am far from a prude. But unfortunately for you, you’ll never find out just how much of one I’m not.” Okay, that wasn’t my best retort, but he gets the point. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“Why?”

He snaps the book closed. “I told you. I’m curious about you.”

“Well, I’m not an animal at a zoo. Go get your jollies elsewhere and watch somebody else.” I push my shoulders back, half expecting him to feed me a “but I don’t want anyone but you” line.

Instead, he slowly licks his lips and looks around the store. “I didn’t mean it like that. I feel an apology is in order for me misleading you last night. You’re not the type of witch I thought you were, and if you’d grant me permission, I’d like to take you out tonight.”

“What?”

“I’m asking you on a date, Callie.”

I open my mouth to ask him why, but Binx lets out a growl. Lucas crouches down, inspecting the black cat. He doesn’t reach out, doesn’t make that silly kissing noise almost everyone else does when they see him.

“Your cat isn’t really a cat, is he?”

I look around, making sure no one else is in earshot. “No, he’s a familiar. You’re just now figuring it out? Nice job with the shielding,” I tell Binx.

“He’s an old one.” Lucas’s eyes narrow. “Isn’t he?”

“He is. And powerful.”

“A black cat, though? Isn’t that a little cliché?”

I smile, adjusting the strap of the plastic takeout bag on my wrist. “Maybe that’s why he picked this form.”

“You called him Mr. Prickle Paws.” He raises an eyebrow, trying not to laugh over the fact a thousand-year-old dark spirit has a pet-name.

“He has very sharp claws.” I look down at Binx endearingly. “And he likes it. Just like he likes the soft pink blanket at the foot of my bed, don’t you Mr. Prickle Paws?” Binx purrs in response and rubs against my ankles.

“You have two others?”

“Yes. Pandora and Freya.”

Lucas watches Binx circle me but still doesn’t make a move to touch him. In fact, he hasn’t moved at all, making me think Binx dropped his shield a bit and is letting Lucas get a sense of his power.

Because it’s just as Lucas said: Binx isn’t really a cat. He’s a spirit who came from another dimension, and when he’s in his true form…he’s terrifying. To everyone who’s not me, that is, of course. His real name is one no one should dare speak, and he wandered from dimension to dimension looking for the right master to serve for centuries. Over that time, he grew to command other spirits, and together we are all bound.

“Witches only have one familiar,” Lucas says, but I can hear the question in his voice. I don’t think he knows as much about witches as he’s trying to get me to believe. Is that why he’s asking me out? Trying to wine and dine info out of me?

“Their witches were killed,” I whisper, leaning in as a few customers walk down this aisle. Two girls blush and giggle, stealing glances at Lucas. I don’t need super hearing to know they’re gushing over him, because the vampire is basically walking sex on a stick. “And once I handled the you know what…”

“They pledged to you,” he finishes.

“Yes.”

“Now I’m even more curious.”

I take the bag from my wrist and switch it to the other hand. “Look, I’m going to be frank here.” Turning, I head toward the register to find Kristy. “If you’re trying to get super-secret witch info out of me, don’t waste your time. I’m not like the other witches.”

“I know,” he says softly, and that rare moment of honestly comes out again. I turn, looking into his stormy blue eyes, and see the same pain I saw yesterday. He blinks and turns away.

“Do you have to do that?” I ask.

“Do what?”

“Blink?”

“Oh.” He seems almost surprised by the question. “I suppose not. My eyes won’t dry out like humans, but if dirt or dust gets in them, it’s still irritating. And it’s like breathing. Many of us don’t let those habits go. It’s something you don’t even think about.”

“So weird.”

He playfully nudges me. “I thought it was interesting yesterday.”

“Interesting…weird…they’re both cool, I guess.” I stop at the edge of the aisle. Betty is watching me, mouth hanging slightly open. Binx trots over, and she breaks her stare, dropping down to her knees to pet him. He’s a bit of a celebrity around here, actually. Everyone assumes he’s a regular cat, of course, and thinks I spent a lot of time training him. To hold up the pretense of being a house cat, he does cat-like stuff, like knocking shit off the counters and carrying around hair-ties while meowing loudly.

He’ll never admit it, but I know he has fun doing it.

Kristy is ringing up a customer, and there are two in line behind that. She does her best not to gape like Betty, but unlike Betty, she knows what Lucas is right away.

“Meet me after the store closes tonight?” he asks, and there’s something oddly gentle about him right now.

I set the bag of food down and slowly shake my head. “I’m not sure I want to. Not after last night.”

“Talk like that and people are going to assume we hooked up. Don’t damage my reputation now. I never disappoint. In fact,” he starts, and looks me over again, “I dreamed about you today.” He reaches forward, slowly pushing my hair over my shoulder. I hate that his touch is getting a physical response out of me. And I hate even more than he can sense it.

“Did you dream about me?”

“I dreamed I shoved a stake through your heart and then set fire to what was left of your remains.”

“Such a lady,” he shoots right back. “And at least we both had dreams about penetrating the other in one way or another.”

“You’re such a pig.”

“You keep saying that, but your body says otherwise.”

I step back, hoping no one heard us talking, and open the bag of takeout. “I do find you attractive,” I admit, not seeing the point in lying. He already knows it and saying it out loud takes the little advantage he has on me away.

“I thought I disgusted you.”

“Oh, you do.” I pick up a California roll. “So yeah…I, uh, I have issues.”

“Don’t we all?” He smiles, and it’s genuine again. I think. Fuck. “Shall I meet you at your place later? I assume you’d like to change into something that shows more skin.”

I shove the roll into my mouth, buying myself a bit of time. Kristy rings up the last customer. I expect her to come over, introduce herself and be the overprotective best friend she usually is.

When she doesn’t, I turn to see what’s going on. Every once in a while, we get an asshole customer. Those are fun to deal with. The Law of Return is my go-to spell for them, and all it takes is a little encouragement to act fast. The rest of the day, everyone will treat the asshole the way they treated one of us.

Instead of blankly staring down a woman enraged that A****n has a copy of Fifty Shadescheaper than we’re selling it, Kristy is holding a large piece of yellowed paper.

“What is it?” I ask, knowing exactly who that paper is from.

“The coven,” she says a little breathless, shocked by whatever she’s reading. “They’ve called an emergency gathering.”

The coven only calls gatherings like this when something big is going down. A chill runs down my spine. The full moon yesterday. The vision. There had to be a third sign that I missed.

I look at Lucas. “If—and I mean a big fat if—I decide to let you take me out on a date, it’s going to have to wait.”

*

“Are you really not going to elaborate?” Kristy adjusts the black cloak around her shoulders. We’re walking into the woods on our way to find the magical doorway that leads us to the Covenstead.

“About what?”

“Uh, maybe how that tall, dark, and handsome vampire showed up wanting to take you on a date.”

“Oh, you heard?”

She shoots me a look. “Of course I heard. And I totally agree with you on how attractive he is, but can you trust him?”

“No, though if I were to have a type, it’s men who want to kill me.”

Kristy laughs and links her arm through mine. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. But it is since it’s true.”

“Go ahead, laugh at my misery and how I’ll be alone forever.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re a totally hot witch and you just need to put yourself out there more.”

It’s too dark for her to see me roll my eyes. We pick our way through the forest, black cloaks flowing behind us. I lean in, pulling Kristy closer to me.

“Do you feel like we’re being watched?” I whisper.

“I was just going to ask you.”

We come to a stop, turning around.

“Hello,” I call out. “Show yourself.”

The wind picks up, and something rattles through the full leaves on the tree above us.

“Cloaks up?” Kristy whispers, and I nod, flipping the hood of my cloak up to cover my head.

“Light of the moon, dark of the night, cloak us from all, hide us from sight,” we say the incantation at the same time. Kristy exhales, and I take another second to look around. Something is following us. We can’t see it, but now it can’t see us. Two can play this game.

We trek another mile into the forest, following the Ley line. It leads to a large oak tree, taller than every other tree around it. Dead branches hang low, swaying slightly in the breeze. Kristy and I join hands, holding up our free hands and pointing them at the tree.

“Invoco elementum terrae,” Kristy starts.

“Invoco elemuntum aeris.” I feel the power rush through me.

“Invoco elemuntum aqua.”

“Invoco elemuntum ignis.”

A door starts to appear in the old tree. I let go of Kristy’s hand to retrieve an athame from my belt. We each need to shed a drop of blood, so the door knows who is trying to open it. I’ve watched too many witches cut their hands or their fingers doing this and all I can think is rookie.

Cuts on your hands and fingers are the worst. You know how long those suckers take to heal? You’re always using your hands. Instead, I press the dagger to my forearm, slicing open my skin. I press the flat side of the blade against the cut, collecting a few drops of blood. Then I plunge the dagger into the earth before the door. Kristy does the same, and the door opens, shining bright blue and white. It’s protected with magic, and if anyone who wasn’t supposed to be here tried to get through, they’d get a nasty burn.

We pick up our athames, wiping the blood and dirt off before putting them away, and then step through the door. Going through the door is a bit like going home. Once you step through, you enter a courtyard leading to a large, brick building. The main meeting hall of the coven is right inside, and beyond that is Grim Gate Academy. Every single person in the Covenstead is a witch. We’re all able to do magic to varying degrees. I have nothing to hide here.

Though, even here I never quite fit in. I came too late, had too much power for a witch brought up in a non-magical home. And the headmaster of the school—who’s now the High Priestess of our coven—was a little too fond of me. The others claimed it was unfair. But without Tabatha, I’d be dead. I know it.

And she knows it too.

The Witching Hour hasn’t yet begun, but the meeting hall is almost full. Kristy and I take the first seats we can find, slipping into a row near the back. White candles are lit in all four corners of the room, and the sacred eternal black candle burns at the center of the altar. The eldest of the coven sit behind it at the back of the altar, all wearing traditional robes or cloaks.

“Everyone seems nervous,” Kristy whispers, keeping her hood up so she can look around. “And do you smell that?”

“Sage.”

“What are they trying to keep away?”

Shaking my head, I get a flash of the man in the dark robes staggering to me. The smell of charred human flesh fills my nose, making me sick. I grab my hair and pull it over my face, breathing in the floral scent of my conditioner.

A single clap of thunder echoes throughout the entire Covenstead, letting us know it’s officially midnight. Double doors to the side of the altar open and the High Priestess enters the meeting hall. All of the witches bow their heads as a sign of respect. To everyone else, she’s High Priestess Greystone, but to me, she’s Tabatha, the woman who saved me from hell.

Though even Evander, Tabatha’s son, has his head bowed down. Usually, coven gatherings start with a prayer to the Goddess, a blessing from the elements, or some sort of chant or spell.

But today, High Priestess Greystone goes to the altar, face tight, and cuts right to the chase.

“I’ve gathered you all here to be the bearer of bad news,” she starts. “But it’s imperative we all know, and we all prepare.”  She pauses, looking out at the faces before her. It seems dramatic to take a few seconds after unloading that on us all, but I know Tabatha, and I know she’s looking out at her coven, madly trying to come up with a spell or a charm to keep us all safe.

“I’m afraid,” she starts again, planting her hands on the old wooden platform in front of her. “I’m afraid there might be a witch hunter in our area.”