Ms. Hopper’s eyes widened almost comically when she got a look at the screen, her mouth gaped open in surprise, greed written over her face a second before she lunged forward. Annora quickly blinked away the afterworld and snapped her phone off.
“Where did you get that?” The harsh demand echoed in the now-silent classroom, and she snatched Annora’s phone away and clutched it to her chest. But no matter how often she mashed her fingers against the button, the screen remained dead. When she lifted her head, it was like a cat poised to pounce onto its prey. Her green eyes darkened to almost black, magic crackling around them as she tried to force the truth from Annora.
Static slithered along Annora’s skin, leaving behind a cold trail of slime that made her want to scrub herself raw. It was invasive and aggressive, not at all like the subtle magic she was used to sensing.
Particles rose from under her skin in retaliation, pushing the magic away to give her a little bubble of breathing space, and Annora thrust out her hand. “Give it back.”
Ms. Hopper scowled, taking a step back, as if she expected to be tackled. “This doesn’t belong to you.”
Anger ignited inside her like a tiny flame, and Annora rose to her feet, unwilling to let anyone else push her around. “You’re mistaken. That’s my phone. Give. It. Back.”
Logan gave it to her, and no way was she going to let this hag take it.
Instead of retreating, Hopper stuck her nose up in the air, her lips pursed like she’d sucked on a lemon, and threateningly shook the phone clutched tightly in her fist. “There is a page of ancient text on this phone that belongs in the private section of the university library. One I’ve never seen. Where did you get it?”
Annora bit back her reply, instantly on alert. She was warned to keep the book hidden, and she’d fucked up. She’d been staring at the damned thing for hours, every waking second she had when she wasn’t working out her frustrations with the guys.
And found abso-fucking-nothing about how to defeat her uncle or Director Erickson.
But she was learning about phantoms, their strengths and weaknesses…and their magic. No way could she let that information fall into the witches’ unscrupulous hands. “The knowledge has nothing to do with you or the university. It’s a family heirloom.”
The class watched them like an old video game of pong, a few of them almost gleeful, subconsciously trying to stay out of range, as if waiting for a bomb to explode.
And Annora wasn’t sure if they were more afraid of her or Hopper.
“Lies. Those were spells. They belong to us.” The witch gave her a nasty look, then glanced down at the still-blank phone. Magic rose in the air, quickly followed by the burnt smell of melted plastic.
The phone gave a warbled chirp, a small wisp of black smoke rose from the device, and part of her soul shriveled as another connection to Logan was taken from her.
With a snarl, Hopper pulled out her phone, angrily jabbing numbers so hard her finger threatened to punch through the glass. As soon as the clock ticked down to the end of the class, the students shot to their feet.
Before Annora could take a step, Hopper whirled and pointed a finger at her. “We’re not through. Stay here. Don’t make me hunt you down.”
Then she went back to chatting on her phone, no doubt talking to her coven leader.
One of the students paused next to her, bending down to whisper in her ear, his eyes locked on the witch across the room. “Be careful. You need to watch your back around them.”
“Giles?” She blinked up at him in shock, hardly recognizing the change in the man since Erickson tried to harvest the magic from him. She’d used her magic to keep him alive when he hovered near death. In turn, he helped those held captive escape. How was it possible for him to have grown taller? And he had to have gained at least fifty pounds.
His eyes shimmered a bright yellow as his wolf prowled forward, then he blinked it away, and gave her a smile and a small salute before he looked over her head at the witch. His eyes widened just before he allowed himself to be swept away in the flow of students. “I’ll just wait outside until your men show up.”
In case she needed him.
It wouldn’t surprise her to learn he’d been keeping an eye on her ever since their return.
As the students poured out of the class, she saw Camden, Xander, Mason, and even Edgar force their way into the room. Based on their long-combined histories of wars and battles among the shifter clans, witches, and vampires, she suspected they weren’t there to walk her to her paranormal history class. Annora glanced at them for a moment, then looked down and glared at the ferret in exasperation when she realized what had happened. “You told.”
He lifted his cheese-stained paws in the air, then tucked them together as if begging for forgiveness.
She rolled her eyes at him, heaving a sigh. She could never stay mad at the little guy. When she stooped to pick up her bag, he scrambled inside with a happy chatter.
The guys, however, were in warrior mode, all of them so handsome and lethal a thrill shot through her at knowing they were hers.
As they surrounded her, Hopper charged forward like a yappy Pomeranian and blocked their way. She held out the phone clutched in her fist like a sword ready to cut Annora down. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Greenwood is expecting us.” Xander stormed between them, his dark hair more prominent when the white tips bristled. Inhaling his fresh sea breeze scent eased her rage, and Annora watched Camden stride within touching distance, ready to drop the witch with just one brush of his poisonous fingertips. He spoke on the phone with Greenwood, the director’s voice easily heard from the device demanding their presence immediately.
Mason stood guard near the door, his bulk blocking the entry so no one could slip past and steal her away. She couldn’t see anything past his massive shoulders, and all she wanted to do was go over and lean against him and not think for just two seconds, desperate for just a whiff of his fresh pine and copper scent. His fangs peeked out of his mouth. It shouldn’t be sexy, but she craved a taste of him, needing it to soothe her ragged nerves.
Xander blocked the witch’s every attempt to go around him, her voice rising to a screech, while Edgar plucked Annora’s bag out of her hand and tried to herd her toward the door. There was a self-awareness to him that made him stand out from other men, even the supernaturals. He had a strong jaw, giving him a stubborn look, though everything about him softened when his gaze landed on her. The pure joy and possessiveness shining from him was still present right now but dimmed.
Because of her.
He carefully kept his distance, a distance she insisted they maintain, and a pang of guilt made her stomach churn.
No matter how much shit she dumped on him, he always showed up when she needed him the most.
Despite the lies and deception, there was one thing she could always trust him with—her life.
Chapter Four
As the team crossed the quad, Annora could practically feel the witch breathing down her neck. The woman was so close, she could imagine her own shadow reaching out, ready to drag the twit into the afterworld and make her constant yammering on the phone disappear for good.
Fingers slipped between hers, clamping down hard, startling her out of her thoughts, and she was surprised to see her shadow shrinking back to normal. She’d been completely unaware that her thoughts were being put into action.
The past merged with the present—weeks of training vanished—and she flinched. She yanked on her hand, waiting to be punished for using her gifts without permission, waiting for pain to take away her ability to breathe or even think.
When the hand refused to release her, her heartbeat gradually stopped thundering in her ears.
It took a few seconds for the man’s face to come into focus.
Edgar—not her uncle. He looked down at her with concern, the rest of the guys crowding closer, sensing her turmoil.
They were her friends.
<
br /> Her family.
They wouldn’t harm her.
But doubt shadowed her mind. Logan hurt her by vanishing. She wasn’t sure if she’d survive the pain if something happened to the others. Physical pain was easy. It was the emotional pain that came with allowing people into her heart that was going to be the death of her.
After a minute, she stopped struggling.
“You’re still leaking,” Edgar leaned down, murmuring so softly the breeze threatened to dance away with his words.
Annora mentally scanned her body, checking for injury, until she realized he didn’t mean blood. Her insides stilled, the air around her stalled, allowing the coldness of the afterworld to creep into the world as she focused on the darkness rising inside her.
Edgar was right. Particles of the afterworld were leaking out of her. Her shadow stretched across the groomed lawn once more, determined to finish its mission, resembling small puffs of dirt kicking up, reaching for the witch so stealthy Annora hadn’t noticed, silently doing as she bid and eliminate the threat.
Instead of being appalled, Annora hesitated to make it stop.
Only when Edgar tightened his grip on her hand in warning did she reluctantly pull it back. The particles fought her for a few seconds, not wanting to obey, the darkness stinging along her skin as it wrapped back around her.
Only after the dark particles were firmly tucked away did common sense return.
Too bad she wasn’t horrified by her actions.
The only reason she stopped was Hopper’s disappearance would make things worse. Annora rubbed the tension between her eyes. Unfortunately, it did little to take away the building headache. She pursed her lips, glancing up at Edgar, and acknowledged the truth she didn’t want to admit to, even silently.
“I didn’t do it consciously.” The confession burst from her in a rush. “Ever since I started visiting the afterworld, it has a mind of its own. Every thought, every urge…” She shrugged. “…it wants to please me. It takes more effort to hold back the darkness than it does to use it.”
A muscle jumped along his jaw. “You can’t lose control like that. You must resist using it. The more you give in to it, the easier it will be for your father to find you.” His grip tightened on her hand, his hard blue eyes troubled. “If he finds you…I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect you.”
He snorted, his bitter laughter twisting something inside her. “Hell, I wasn’t even able to save myself when he came for me, and I was at full strength back then.” When he tugged her closer, she didn’t fight him, needing the comfort of his nearness just as much. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, but you need to keep training. You need to get stronger if you want to survive. If not for yourself, do it for your men.”
Survival.
Her life seemed to always come down to survival.
What was so wrong with her that she had to fight every damn day to simply stay alive?
That’s when she realized she did want to live…for them.
Which meant she had to find a way to keep the witches on her side to prevent them from hunting her down like she was a helpless little mouse with no powers of her own.
Annora inhaled deeply, then gave him a nod. “I’ll do my best.”
The guys released a collective breath, none of them even bothering to pretend they hadn’t been listening to every single word. Mason lengthened his stride, opening the door for her, and she nodded to him gratefully.
As they bypassed the elevator, Annora smiled when the witch sputtered in protest, taking malicious pleasure by forcing her to suffer while trudging up the stairs, if for only a few minutes. The click-clack of the witch’s heels could be heard throughout the stairwell, everyone else making the climb soundlessly.
As they reached the top floor, the guys spread out in formation around her. Just as they reached Director Greenwood’s office, the door opened and Kevin walked out. Shock held her immobile. Despite their conversation that morning, she’d never expected him to actually listen. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, his widened, and he ducked away before she could gather her wits to demand what he was doing there.
As they piled into the office, the witch entered last, breathing heavily. She scowled at the way the guys hovered so protectively around Annora, and she planted herself in front of the desk. “The guards have seen her to your door. You can send them away now.”
Greenwood eased himself into his chair, not in the least bit rushed. He leaned back, threading his fingers together, resting them on his chest. “The guards? You mean her mates? If you’re bringing an accusation against Annora, then they have every right to attend this meeting.”
If anything, his comments made her scowl deepen until she resembled a shriveled prune, which was surprising for one so young. It had to take years of practice to get that bitter. Just as she opened her mouth to protest, a sharp knock interrupted her. A smug smile lit Hopper’s face, and she turned sharply on her heels to answer the door. “That will be the coven.”
Annora didn’t take her eyes off Rufus, but his expression was inscrutable…until he winked.
She blinked at him, trying not to gawk, not sure she could trust her eyes.
Then the wink became moot. The door opened and two women entered the room. They seemed to suck the oxygen out of the air, their magic beating greedily against her, demanding entrance to her mind.
Instead of giving in to the urge to annihilate them, Annora locked the darkness swirling inside her down tight against their combined assault. Edgar placed a warning hand on her shoulder, and she shrugged him off. The last thing she wanted was for the witches to focus their attention on him.
As far as they knew he was just her mate.
Nothing special.
She was determined to keep it that way. She would not permit anyone to take him away from her to experiment on him the way her uncle did on her.
“Enough.” Director Greenwood’s gruff tone brooked no argument, the snap of command in the one word rippling through the room.
The witches stopped immediately, turning their attention to him. “Our apologies, Director.”
To her surprise, the witches weren’t old and wizened. They were sisters, no more than thirty years old. One had longer hair tugged back into a messy knot, her glasses making her appear innocent, but there was a cunning in her eyes. The other was slightly older, her hair cropped short, her face sharper, more no-nonsense.
Magic bounced between them like a feedback loop, building and growing with every exchange. While she sensed they used spells to keep up their appearance, it was more for little things like keeping their hair its original color and their clothes wrinkle free.
“Thank you for coming on such a short notice, Hetty and Suesette. I’m sorry we had to interrupt your day, but your young novice insisted.” Greenwood leaned forward and waved an arm to the chairs in front of his desk. “If you would, please have a seat.”
“It’s no problem,” the youngest murmured, taking her seat. “It’s our duty to come when summoned. Thankfully, we were in the area.”
Despite sounding accommodating, there was an underlying hardness to her expression, as if annoyed about being called like a dog to heel.
Annora studied them more closely, saw the way they tilted their heads the same way, and suspected they were able to read each other’s thoughts.
The older sister took her seat, her smile more natural. “Excuse us for getting right to the point, but there was mention of an ancient grimoire being discovered.” She leaned forward in her seat. “May we see it?”
Though she was more polite, she was no less ruthless. She might care for propriety, but she was fanatical in her belief in magic, a true believer, which made her even more dangerous.
Rufus cast Annora a glance, but Ms. Hopper scuttled forward with her pilfered phone. “The pictures were on here.”
Striking more quickly than any snake, the younger of the two sisters snatched the phone away, a moue of
distaste curling her lips a second later. “You tried to use magic on technology. You destroyed it.”
Hopper opened and closed her mouth, then almost seemed to cave into herself. She bowed low in apology, scuttling backwards as if to get out of range. “My apologies, Mistress Suesette.”
The older sister, Hetty, dismissed the phone as unimportant. “If she’s correct about what she saw, the ancient book belongs in the secured section of the library.”
And once the book went into the library, Annora knew no one would ever see it again.
No one but witches.
“Actually, the book belongs to my family. Nothing in the book talks about the four devotions of witchcraft…unless you’ve been lying to the university, not to mention the supernatural community at large, and there are more.”
Camden inched closer to her, going into protective mode, as if he suspected the witches would try to kidnap her right then and there.
Greenwood’s attention sharpened at her accusation, but the witches didn’t react, as if she hadn’t just accused them of fraud.
The silence was deafening…and telling.
“The book is from my ancestors. It’s dangerous, and not for those who weren’t born to it.” Annora refused to back down. “I’ll destroy the book before handing it over to people who have no idea how to handle it. A single spell in the wrong hands once nearly enslaved an entire race and killed dozens.”
All three witches gasped at her in horror, Hetty rising to her feet in protest, her face beseeching. “You can’t do that.”
Annora wasn’t surprised to note they were more upset over the destruction of the book than the loss of life.
“The book will be safer with us.” Suesette rose as well, her tone superior and more commanding than her older sister’s. “We have centuries of experience dealing with dangerous magic. Proof of what happened with Director Erickson is just an example. Only we can keep it safe.”
Shackled to the World: A Phantom Touched Novel Page 4