by Jayla Kane
We laughed so hard last night. It was amazing.
I hated to let it go and rejoin the world.
“Don’t,” she whispered, and stroked my cheek, leaning back to look into my eyes. “This is good, Jake. We haven’t been on the same team in a long time. And… It feels really good.”
She wasn’t ready to love me yet; I knew that. She was still figuring out where I fit in her life, but I was grateful I fit anywhere at all. I had to be. Considering what I’d put her through—
“Come on,” Raven said, and kissed my nose before rolling out of my embrace. “You’re going to spoil my breakfast. Let’s not start the day that way.”
I was about to object, and then she got out of bed… Completely naked. Just Raven, black hair in sultry tangles from our adventures of the night before, long, curvy body shining like a diamond in the morning light. I felt everything leave my head—even lust—and was consumed by wonder. Awe. She was so beautiful. Raven turned and looked at me, raising one silken black eyebrow, and put her hands on her hips, her breasts peaked by the chilly air blowing in through the open window. “I was just about to ask if I could borrow some more of your clothes—a t-shirt, whatever—but if you’re that enthusiastic it makes it a little hard to cover up.”
“Then don’t.” I threw the covers off and strode over to her, reaching down to cradle her face in my hands. “And whatever the hell has got you in business mode so early—”
“It’s nine o’clock already, Jake—”
“Like I said. Can it wait? Because I…” My hands slid down the elegant column of her throat, traced her collarbones while her nipples hardened, and then reached down to cup her perfect breasts; “let’s just say I have other business in mind.”
“Jake,” Raven whispered, her lips parting, and I leaned down to kiss her, my body ready to pounce… When she stepped back, breaking contact. Every time that happened now, it was kind of like having a bucket of ice cold water dumped over my head. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately, then frowned at herself. “I mean—I’m sorry we don’t have time, and I… I’m not actually sorry about how we make each other feel, if I’m being honest. I like it.” That softened the withdrawal a little bit; my needy heart managed to keep from stuttering for a second, anyway. “But we do have a lot to do today,” she told me, crossing her arms over those magnificent tits and giving me a forbidding look. “I still want to see what we can do about… About our situation.”
So… Our situation hadn’t changed at all? I stood up a little taller and stared down at her, unable to hide my disappointment. I got it, of course, but… I was happier than I could remember being in years, so yeah… Maybe I didn’t want things to go back to the way they were.
“They won’t if we don’t want them to,” Raven said softly, watching me. “The way things are between us—we get to decide that. That’s not magic, Jake. That’s us.”
“I’d miss hearing your thoughts,” I confessed. “I’ll miss what happens when we touch—whatever the hell that is, it’s addictive.” Raven bit her lip, and I realized I was being selfish. “I’m sorry, you’re right,” I said, breaking eye contact and forcing myself over to the dresser. I tossed her an old rugby jersey over my shoulder and dug out some boxers for both of us; when I turned around she was tugging them on, but they didn’t fit. The jersey did, though, in the sense that it covered everything that worked so hard to distract me from whatever she was saying. “So. What should we start with?”
“I want to see if Percy wrote me back,” she said, tugging her laptop out from her bag and firing it up; she ignored my thoughts on the matter, which was definitely for the best. “And you should check out those books we got—what did Sarah call them? Master Thomas’s collection?”
“I think so,” I told her, settling down at the desk and staring at the daunting stack. Fucking great. What every horny eighteen year old wants to do on a bright Sunday morning with the most gorgeous girl in the world sitting five feet away: check out some books obviously sewn together with uncured animal skin. I pulled the one on the top towards me and opened it up, covering my mouth when the smell of mildew—and something worse--hit my nose. In spite of our apparently dedicated witchiness, my ancestors hadn’t thought to cast a spell on these fuckers to keep them clean? I rolled my eyes and turned to the first page. I could barely read the writing; the script was elaborate, the words unfamiliar. I had to sound them out to recognize what they were, and even then, I knew I would need my own laptop to work out translations from whatever form of ancient English this was. A Witch’s First Primer, it was called, and I tried not to be irritated by the fact that no one had primed my brother and I for our goddamn destiny. I opened it up and read the introduction, concentrating hard, and it was another forty five minutes before Raven interrupted my thoughts.
“Find anything useful? Any good tips on how to be a better witch?” She came over and leaned against me, looking down at the open book; I ignored the soft brush of her breast against my upper arm and pointed down at the page.
“Good is kind of relative,” I said slowly. “But… So this book for little kids, right? It doesn’t say anything specifically, but I’m going to guess around third or fourth grade, just based on the language. And it… It explains firstly that there are two kinds of magic, but it doesn’t get into the second kind at all. The main kind, the kind that Leo mentioned, too, is called ‘Binding.’ Which I think is basically just everything—all the magic we can think of,” I told her, and she frowned at me. “It just means magic, from what I can tell—Binding elements together to make a spell. And a spell is everything we do too, I guess in their technical terms. Like, every time you read my mind—involuntary or not—you’re ‘casting a spell.’” I waved my fingers in the air, evoking a spooky voice, and Raven grinned down at me. “I think it’s because of the times. They’re very clear that spell-casting should be hidden at all costs, because people that aren’t witches will want to kill you for doing it.”
“Yikes,” Raven said, frowning. “This book is for kids?”
“Witch kids,” I reminded her. “And they’re absolutely right—this thing was written in 1703, and if I remember correctly they were still burning people alive for… For being like us.”
“Little late for burning, actually,” she murmured. “But I see your point.”
“So… That’s as far as I’ve gotten. They don’t explain Binding, they just define it—which is useless, because it is literally everything I can think of: making weather, telepathy, moving things, transforming things, all the Hogwarts shit, so I don’t know why they bother. And they say not to do it anywhere around the normies.”
“Sage advice.”
“Yeah,” I said, frowning, and Raven narrowed her eyes at me. “Here, we’re safe, Rae,” I said, and she leaned her hip on the desk and nodded. “But… I mean, it’s not like we’d be burned alive… I don’t think. That said, what would the consequences be if someone who didn’t happen to be a witch got wind of us?”
“I think it’d probably be a modern version of burning, don’t you?” She worried that bottom lip of hers, and I fought off the instinct to pull her into my lap. “Thank you,” she said absently, and I was glad I hadn’t; when she spoke there was the faintest hint of apology in her voice. “I just need to think, and that would be distracting. Because you’re right—there’s a reason the Ashwood Institute exists in a vacuum. There must be…” She frowned and stared at nothing. “I mean, witches have been in this country for centuries. Maybe before—let’s not imagine that the only witches in existence are of European descent. Every cultural tradition in the entire world has a history of the occult, and witches—and whatever else they’re called—are part of it. Always.”
“Our president could be a witch,” I said, hoping to get a smile out of her, but her eyes just widened.
“Jesus Jake, he really could.” She shook her head at me when she caught me smiling. “I’m serious! How else would they—we—have survived?” Raven stared at me, something like
fear on her face. “Witches would have to be in the highest attainable positions of power just to make sure something like this—” she tapped the book— “never happens again. People burned at the stake, communities razed to the ground, complete insanity.” She shook her head, staring at the floor. I’d forgotten how much research she’d done on the occult. “It’s not crazy to think that the Ashwood Institute was founded as a sort of haven.”
“Maybe,” I said, shrugging. “Or maybe the people that founded this town—all witches, probably, I’d be willing to bet anything—created the Institute because they needed a place that seemed benign and had to hide a bunch of their creepy fucking books and whatever other weird witch junk they didn’t want anybody to find. We put up with a lot of secrecy from academia that we just don’t from other institutions,” I said sagely, and Raven smirked at me.
“Look at you, sounding all smart.”
“One day, you’re going to say, Jake, you beautiful genius, will you—” She batted my hands away and took a step back, effectively ending my attempt to slide them under the loose hem of her jersey. I dropped my mouth open, pretending to be offended. “What? You keep thinking I’m dumb and I’m going to get offended, Rae.” I rolled my head on my shoulders, flexing, and tried not to enjoy the way her eyes darted over my torso as her cheeks turned slightly pink.
“Oh, I know you’re not dumb,” she said, her nostrils flaring as she gave me another quick glance. “It’s just that all those brains are usually devoted to—”
“Fine,” I said, not wanting to hear how good I was at being a prick. Not today, not now. Not from her. I sighed and looked back at the grim little book on my desk, then leaned forward and tapped the dusty page. “So… How much longer do you want to do this before we can go eat something that’s not left-over biscuits? If we’re going to spend today locked up reading moldy manuscripts, I’d at least like some coffee.” Anna’s coffee, like everything else, was better than what you could find in any shop, anywhere. The Kellers made a damn good cup, but none could compare. Had to be magic involved, I thought to myself, but when Raven was quiet for too long I looked up and found her watching me, her expression carefully blank. “Okay. What the hell does that face mean?”
“I heard back from Percy,” she said, and gestured towards the laptop. “I… We’ve been messaging back and forth.”
“Ah,” I said, biting back half a dozen ruder responses as I reclined in the chair, crossed my ankles and rested my head on the interlocked fingers of my hands, chest open. I knew she liked it when I did this; I hoped it would make her reconsider—maybe just for a second. Because I already sensed the end of this story. “You’re not getting coffee with me downstairs. You’re getting coffee with Percy.”
“Not exactly,” she said, and I tapped against her mental shield with my own tentative membrane, still unguarded after her unintentional attack last night. “I’m going to meet Percy, yes.”
“Where?” Fuck my casual position. I leaned forward and stared at her, my protective instincts roaring to the surface. “Not fucking—”
“Delta house,” Raven said, and I exploded out of the chair and began pacing back and forth.
“That’s stupid, Raven, but fine,” I said, shaking my head at the floor, raking my hands across my head. “You don’t know him. I keep having to remind you—just because you like his pretty boy posturing—”
Raven scoffed, and when I stopped moving and glared at her she was practically simmering at me, her arms crossed over her chest. “Did you just say Percy has pretty boy posturing?”
“He’s not safe for you to be around—not there, where we don’t have any idea how many other Society members are around, or even where all the rooms are. Raven, seriously, you have to be able to see—”
“If I survived you, Jacob Knight Warfield, I can handle the fucking Song,” Raven snapped. I swung towards her and leaned down so that we were eye to eye.
“I’ll call Hunter. We’ll go with you—”
“No. You already know the answer is no.”
“Then tell him to meet you someplace else.” My voice was low; the ground beneath us had begun to shake, almost imperceptibly, but Raven’s gaze just hardened as she stared into my eyes.
“You don’t make the fucking rules, Magi,” she hissed.
“Neither. Do. You.” I didn’t move; she didn’t back down. “This is strategically stupid,” I growled. “He could be the person that hypnotized that rat, Raven—do you know what the powers of the Song entail, exactly? Do you know whether or not he’s fucked around with another person in the Society—”
“It’s not the Society, it’s the Ashwood Coven that makes you supercharged,” she snapped, taking a step back from me. My chest was heaving. The room was growing hotter, and I waved my hand and slammed open all the windows at once, a rush of cold air blasting inward from the chilly, beautiful autumn day happening outside. A perfect day to spend walking in the garden with the woman I loved, showing her more about my weird fucking powers, maybe playing a couple rounds of telepathic hide and seek before we came back here and I spent the entire rest of the day licking every inch of her smooth, moon-white skin. Ignoring the world. Ignoring… This. “We can’t,” she said, blinking at me. “You know I can’t.”
“You don’t have to meet Percy,” I said, hating the thread of urgency in my voice. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard myself plead for something before, and every time I did, it was with Raven. “Seriously, Rae—it’s not smart.”
“I don’t think he’s dangerous,” she said finally, shaking her head at me. “I don’t feel the way you do about him, and that’s all there is—”
“Because I don’t want to fuck him,” I snarled, and she marched over and pressed a slender finger between my pectoral muscles, digging in with her nail.
“I don’t even know what it would be like to be so casual about sex,” she hissed, “because you are the only person I’ve ever had sex with. Which will never give you the right to decide who I trust, how I spend my time, or who I spend it with.” Raven was so mad her face was darkening, the petal pink of her cheeks tinted rose. “Not everybody spent the last four years fucking their way through the goddamn attendance role, Jake.”
“Raven, I swear to fucking god—”
“What? What do you swear?” Raven looked like she wanted to hit me, which was fine with me. I was ready to chain her to the bed, or any other conveniently located piece of extra heavy furniture, so that made us about even in my book.
“You can’t do this.” I slowly exhaled, trying to think about this rationally... And failing. All I could do was hear her voice wonderingly describe how nice it had been to talk to Percy, how Percy treated her like a human being—
“I can. I will. It’s a goddamn chat, Jake, not that you have any ground to stand on.”
“You’re my Sineater—”
“Oh? Oh, so now I’m yours?” She reared back, crossing her arms and giving me a look so haughty it sent me right back to middle school, when we fought about her shitty mom. “Last night, you were all about your devotion to me as long as I opened my goddamn legs—”
“Raven, that’s bullshit, you know it is—”
“But now, when I’m doing something you don’t like, I belong to you again—fucking convenient, Jake, how that works!” She took a step back from me, rage billowing out of her, and ripped her shirt over her head. “I’m taking a shower and then I’m going to Delta house, and I’m not asking your fucking permission!”
I heard the fire in the fireplace sizzle and pop, realizing at the last instant that it was about to explode; tamping my anger down inside of myself took everything I had, and when I finally opened my eyes, unclenching my fists, Raven was gone.
And she was also right.
I actually liked Percy, as much as I liked most people. But the thought of Raven… She hadn’t gotten to date in high school, let alone explore sex. Because of me.
And she really did like Percy.
The
thought of her even imagining him touching her the way I touched her… The idea of his mouth on her… FUCK! I howled the word into the wind, a blast of icy air rushing back in a pulse that told me I needed to calm the fuck down, or I was going to do something I regretted. Not to Raven—even at my angriest, I seemed to be aware of where she was and able to avoid pushing my magic towards her, I noticed—but to the house, the earth… Myself.
I was angry with myself.
Very fucking angry with myself.
I stood there and thought for a long while, listening to her moving around in the bathroom; she hadn’t closed the door, and I realized, once my rage subsided—or rather, coalesced around me, instead of blasting outwards—that I could feel her through the bond.
She was frustrated. Sad, disappointed. Furious with me, sure, but also… She wanted me to be… Better.
Better than I was.
Goddamnit. I hated letting her down again.
But what was I supposed to do? I’m not a fucking saint. I’m in love with a girl who can’t even tell me she likes me—and I don’t blame her one goddamn bit. I’m stuck watching her do something dangerous just because she doesn’t trust me not to act like an asshole if I somehow talked her into letting me accompany her—and I don’t blame her for that assumption either. Fuck.
Percy might be dangerous—hell, I was sure he was, if not to us then to someone else; why else would he be in the Ashwood Society? Coven? Whatever. He was dangerous. And fucking Delta house was a goddamn labyrinth.
But Raven wasn’t pissed that I didn’t trust Percy. She wanted me to trust her. Her judgment. Her decision. Her powers, because, the reminder came, gently wandering down the bond, she did have some damn good tricks up her sleeve now.
“Baby—” I spoke out loud to the empty room, halting when I realized I was about to start begging the tiny residual slips of emotion that slid down to me from our link; she might not even know I was aware of any of this, because most of the time she was a blank now, barricaded behind her shield. But this was different—this was our bond as Magi and Sineater, and her feelings were apparently so strong that I could feel them, just a little bit. Just enough to make me ashamed of not trusting her, of stifling her so much for so long that she was interested in anyone, pretty much, if it wasn’t me.