by Freya Black
I placed a mug on a matching saucer, returning his gaze. “Take a seat, and we’ll bring it out to you.”
Without a word, he set off toward the Apothecary Candy Bar. My mind whirled when he stopped to extract a stick of white chocolate, molded into what was supposed to be a white oak wand, from a jar. He held it in front of his face, and my lips parted as he raised the candy. It was a strange gesture, as if he were toasting a glass to me.
White oak, the only wood strong enough to communicate with the otherworlds, would make a normal witch cringe. We made various homemade candies that replicated our own magical tools. Norms thought nothing of them, though Sloane’s signal had meant something to me. I chalked his behavior up to a scare tactic, but I saw it as an invitation, a little game of cat and mouse.
I was amazed by the strength of his aura—a glow of magical energy he embodied. Although I should have been terrified, I didn’t even flinch, and with a quick nod in his direction, I accepted his challenge.
“Oh my God!” Celeste squealed as Sloane retreated to the Classic Literature section. “He was totally flirting with you.”
I shushed her, afraid the Norms would overhear.
She settled down to a whisper. “How is this possible? This breaks every rule of magic.”
“You felt it, too?” I said in a hushed tone.
She bobbed her head. “Yeah. But how did he get into Arcadia?”
“Either he broke the Protection spell, or he’s lost.”
I doubted he had the power to break our spell, but the terrified look in Celeste’s eyes indicated otherwise. Norms could come and go as they pleased, but magical beings, such as Sloane, were forbidden to pass the town line because of our enchantments.
“He probably stopped for gas or something.” The words slipped off my tongue with such ease that an instantaneous pang of guilt hit me for lying to my friend.
“There’s no way that he’s lost. You could throw darts at a map of Pennsylvania and still miss this place.”
I couldn’t argue with her logic. Our little speck of a town was so off the beaten path that only the locals could maneuver the back roads. Even those who had grown up around Mount Pocono were unaware of its existence.
“What if he’s a”—I bit my lip and whispered—“Hexenjager?”
Celeste hunched forward, cupping her face in her hands. “I thought so, too, but I mean, look at him. He doesn’t exactly look like one.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the point. I bet he cloaked his appearance. For all we know, he looks like the crypt keeper under all that hotness.”
Hexenjagers were mythical creatures, Fey-born with magical powers, mentioned in stories of our coven’s history. But to prove they were real, I’d have to capture one, and like a unicorn, I’d never take one alive.
I cringed inwardly at the thought of the immortal hunters, hoping Sloane was not one of them. My mother had considered our clairvoyance a curse. Witches of our bloodline called it the Cleary Curse after Katherine Cleary, my great-great-great grandmother. Because of our rare powers, Hexenjagers had been tracking and killing our family and witches like us for centuries.
Celeste shook her head, unable to contain her disappointment. I followed her gaze to the center of the store, her eyes beaming at my aunt. “Should we tell Kate?”
In my seventeen years, our invisible armor had never faltered, but without any precedent to follow, I was unsure of the protocol. “Let me see what he’s up to first.”
I slinked out from behind the bar in stealth mode—or so I’d thought until I heard my name.
Instead of her normal silvery voice, Kate sounded cold, distant. “Fiona, can I get some help over here?”
Between piles of books stacked to the ceiling, I found Kate. Blonde bangs fell to the side of her face, the rest of her hair tucked into a neat bun. She gave me a look that could scare the devil with her piercing blue daggers that managed to find a way of creeping into my mind.
We met between stacks of mahogany bookcases surrounded by stereotypical witchcraft items, one of the many gimmicks we’d devised to entertain the Norms. In some ways, the bubbling cauldrons and eccentric drinks were our ways of poking fun at them for being so oblivious to the magic that existed right under their noses. I peeked through a polyester spiderweb draped across the aisle. Sloane was nowhere in sight.
My chest tightened as I prepared to share the bad news. “Aunt Kate, I—”
Her mouth twisted into a grimace that knotted my stomach like a pretzel. “What did I tell you about that? It makes me feel old.”
Kate had become my legal guardian after my parent’s deaths, and at thirty-two years old, we were less than twelve years apart in age.
“Where did he come from? Tell me everything.”
The sharpness in her voice alarmed me, and the apprehension built further. She was fierce, which made her an excellent interim Coven Leader. But the glint of anger in her eyes was enough to turn me to stone.
“I don’t know. I took his order; that’s all.” My voice trembled.
She shook my shoulders hard, and despite her slender figure, she was much stronger than she looked. “He talked to you. What did he say?”
I stood there, slack-jawed, trying to process the drastic change in her demeanor since we’d opened that morning. She was scared of Sloane—not just for me, but also for our Coven’s sake.
But I was intrigued by him, and for whatever moronic reason, I wanted to talk to him. I liked the sound of his voice, the sweet scent of his skin. And most of all, I liked the way he looked at me, as if he were peering into my soul. His eyes held a certain familiarity I could not place. I’d had visions of the future, powers that cursed my family, and I wondered if he was in one of them. Faces were not always memorable; sometimes, it was a blur.
Kate waved her hand in front of me. “Fiona, snap out of it. What did he say?”
“Nothing. He ordered a latte.” I crept out from the concealment of the shelves. No one ever ventured into the Reference section, but I had to check before discussing supernatural business. “There’s something about him. He has powers.”
“Oh,” she said, her mouth flung open. “What did you see?”
“So far, it’s a blank slate, but I remember his eyes. I swear, I’ve seen them before, maybe in my visions. His powers are strong. You don’t have to be close to feel them. And he smells like honey, the same scent from my visions.”
Her soft features hardened as she adjusted the gold amulet around her neck. “That’s because Hexenjagers are Fey. Even the darkest of them can’t rid themselves of their natural odor. It’s the only weakness they have, you know.” She tapped her nails on the shelf next to her, beating down on it like a drum. “Don’t let him out of your sight. You know what this could mean for us, especially you. If he gets ahold of you, I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen. I can’t lose you, too, so promise you’ll be careful…” Kate didn’t need to finish her train of thought for me to get the point.
I crossed my fingers behind my back and prayed he was still in the store. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” My voice lacked the confidence necessary to defeat such an evil creature.
Kate just nodded. She was too busy fidgeting and stealing glances through the open spaces in the shelves.
If she had a divine power, she would relax. Her lack of magical awareness, except for her knowledge of spells and herbs, left her more susceptible than the rest of my Coven. Their elemental powers gave them a layer of protection, a way to defend themselves against a Hexenjager’s attack. But I was the real threat. I was the one they wanted.
Aisle after aisle, I combed through the store, and the hunt for the hunter began. Now, all I had to do was find him.
Chapter 2
Relief washed over me when I spotted Sloane. He was sitting in front of the bay window overlooking the mountains, his face buried in a hardback book.
Hexenjagers were impossible to detect, mostly because they could take the form of
humans. But magic was unmistakable, like thousands of pinpricks gliding across my skin all at once. I stole a quick peek from behind the espresso machine, only to discover him watching me already. My first attempt at outsmarting a hunter was not off to a good start. In fact, my inability to remain impartial made me a terrible person for the job. Nothing and no one had ever affected me like Sloane.
After I shuffled through the crowd, Celeste sent another order my way. “Can you serve these to table five?” Her eyes moved around the café until she reached the bow window at the front of the store. Then, she smacked her lips together. “Oh, and check in on the hottie on your way back. He looks lonely.”
“Seriously?” Frustrated with Sloane and the curse, not meaning to take it out on Celeste, I threw my notepad on the granite countertop. “You’re killing me.”
“Yeah,” she said, pulling her hair into a ponytail, “but you love me, so you’ll do it.”
“Fine,” I grunted, “but you get the next round.”
I set the tray down and checked myself out in the mirror behind her head. “Some friend you are,” I said, laughing. “I look like a mess. You could’ve warned me.”
Celeste batted her eyelashes at me, flashing a cheeky grin. “Why? You trying to impress Sloane?”
I untangled the blonde nest hanging over my shoulder and used my fingers as a comb. My dark purple T-shirt was soaked in coffee and smelled like chocolate syrup. I sighed at my unsalvageable appearance and slid a wand of pink gloss across my lips. “Of course not, but a little heads-up would’ve been nice.”
Celeste rolled her eyes at me. “Right. That sounded real convincing.”
I delivered the drinks on my tray, leaving Sloane for last. In the middle of a heat wave, it was odd that he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt. Black cotton fit snug against his chest while the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He leaned over his book with a serious expression on his face, as if cramming for a midterm. Even the parade of girls in skimpy shorts couldn’t garner his attention. I wondered if supernatural creatures could feel human things, like hot and cold, happiness and despair.
When I reached Sloane, I organized the cups on my tray to distribute the weight, attempting to steady my nerves, as the glasses clanged together.
“How was the Magic Mocha?”
He looked up with a crooked smile, and I almost forgot to breathe.
“It was magical.”
Even for a Hexenjager, he was charming. When he handed me his plate, our fingertips collided for a split second. His touch sent a tingling sensation throughout my entire body, similar to an electric shock. It rushed over me like breaking waves, pulling me under. No longer in control, I staggered back as the purple-and-gold damask wallpaper swirled together. Then, my legs buckled beneath me.
Moonlight cast its shadow over the dark street. Lampposts and electrical wires fell with each explosion of thunder that pierced my eardrums. I turned my head, taking in the crumbling scenery and what was left of Pine Street. A sea of people darted toward me with crazed looks in their eyes. I stood in the middle of the street, paralyzed by fear.
And that was when I saw them—monsters so terrifying that they could only exist in nightmares.
As they moved forward, giant beams of light struck the asphalt in a methodical fashion, as if thrown from the sky by Thor and his mighty hammer. The pavement cracked in half and began to collapse under my feet. With the ferocity of a hurricane, wind plowed through the trees. A domino effect sent oak slamming into the concrete, wiping out rows of people in its wake. Jolted by the sheer force, I was about to plunge into the abyss when someone grabbed my hand.
“Hang on, Nona,” the boy said.
A boy the same age as me, no older than ten years old, squeezed my tiny bicep. Steely blue eyes peeked out from a chunk of black hair. He led me through the mayhem, calling out for our parents. No one answered.
Droves of inhuman warriors charged forward, riding black horses. Viking helmets covered most of their faces. The parts of their gray skin not protected by armor were branded with tattoos that had a crimson glow shimmering in the darkness. Soulless pits, eyes like lumps of charcoal, glowered at us. They severed the heads from the bodies of those in their way, blood splattering everywhere, rolling off the red cloaks that flapped behind them.
We dashed down Maple Drive, my heart thumping out of my chest, and we hid under a tree. Cocooned by its low-hanging branches, I failed to catch my breath until the boy wrapped his arms around me. My body stopped shaking, and my pulse returned to normal from his touch. I rested my head on his shoulder. The warmth of his energy circulated through my veins, meshing with my own powers, until the electricity pulsating between us consumed me.
When I awoke, my lungs were tight, each breath more shallow than the last. I scooted along the hardwood floor, full-blown panic setting in, and bumped my head on the edge of a table. Kate’s face blurred with the rest of the café. The harder I concentrated, Kate and the tear she wiped from her cheek came into focus.
“You scared me to death,” she said, dropping broken pieces of black ceramic.
I crossed my leg over the other and waited for the room to stop spinning. “I’m fine. I promise.” Even though I was petrified, I smiled to conceal the anxiety in my voice. “How long was I out?”
“A few minutes.” Kate’s eyes grew wider.
Her face read like an open book, and I dreaded what she was about to ask.
She opened my palm, and a pale blue glow outlined the Crescent birthmark from the use of my powers. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” That was the truth. My tongue felt like sandpaper, making the words sound muffled. I pulled my hand back and stuffed it inside of my apron.
Whispers filled the crowded space. Customers gawked at me, like I was a chimpanzee on display at the zoo, their hands pressed to their mouths. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but my fear overpowered every other emotion.
Kate peeked over her shoulder and sighed. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”
I stared at the refinished hardwood, observing every imperfection in the oak. “Okay.”
She hopped to her feet, serving tray in hand, and disappeared behind the coffee bar. I grabbed the chair next to me for support. As much as I wanted to run away, waves of nausea knocked me back to the ground.
Not until I saw his hand extended did I notice Sloane staring down at me. A heightened sense of urgency sent my body into overdrive. I crawled across the floor on all fours, shamelessly pushing chairs toward Sloane, squeezing between tables. Too dizzy to stand, I had to reach the stairs. The second floor of the carriage house was my only hope of protection from a Hexenjager.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Sloane said, his voice smooth and controlled.
I stopped moving and flipped onto my backside, so we were facing. The sincerity in his tone was believable, but my anger still consumed me. “What did you do to me?”
He dropped down on one knee, the candelabra above us illuminating his eyes, like that of the blue steel mined in the western parts of Pennsylvania. I studied his face, searching for a sign of his malice, but his face was blank.
“I didn’t do anything. You collapsed, and I caught you.”
For a minute, I considered bringing the chandelier down on his head, but I thought better of it. “I felt something,” I said, suspiciously regarding him. My fingertips still tingled from the spark we’d shared, which made his refusal to admit what he had done infuriating. “You did this. I know you did.”
He threw his hands up in defense. “I’m telling the truth. I swear.”
“What are you?” I just about spit the words. “I know you’re one of them. I just want to hear you say it.”
Sloane laughed and offered his hand, which I rejected several times until he finally ignored my protests. Volts of electricity pricked my skin as he clutched my arm. I was intoxicated by his euphoric power, like a drug I couldn’t get enough of. I never thought it was possible to be ad
dicted to a person, but everything about Sloane surprised me.
Hushed voices behind me, whispering rumors that would swirl through our small town for months, burned my cheeks. My stomach churned as I thought of facing them.
I jumped forward when Sloane touched my shoulder, extinguishing my rage in an instant. It was the first time I’d sensed someone’s powers in a vision, let alone by touch. Although strange, I wasn’t surprised. Known for their ability to infiltrate a mortal’s mind, Hexenjagers could force their way into my visions, which I assumed Sloane had done earlier. But something about his aura and the way my body had reacted to it made me rethink if Sloane was capable of such evil.
Sloane lifted the book from his table and tucked it under his arm. I couldn’t help but stare at the lean muscles protruding beneath his shirt.
What is he doing to me? What kind of spell am I under?
He’s a Hexenjager, I told myself. Get it together, Fiona.
My Coven would be disappointed that I’d learned nothing about him, and we were no closer to understanding the reason for his intrusion. I had to stall him.
Anxiety bubbled in my chest, and before I had the chance to form a coherent thought, I blurted out, “Can I get you anything else? Coffee, tea, another mocha?” My voice reeked of desperation, and I was furious with myself the second the words had left my mouth, but it was too late to take them back.
He glanced at his watch and adjusted the silver band. “No, I have to go.”
The thought of him leaving somehow outweighed death or my family’s curse. I followed behind him, deciding to confront him, but I chickened out.
Sloane held the door in his hand, flashing a grin that reached his eyes. “I guess I’ll see you around, Nona.”
His words rendered me speechless, dumbfounded even, and he slipped out the door as quickly as he’d appeared. Instead of following Kate’s instruction, I let him go. A part of me ached as he disappeared around the corner, headed toward the Arcadian forest.
If he were a hunter, a clairvoyant like me would know. I pondered the consequences of misreading Sloane, and the possibility stung a little. The moment we’d locked eyes, nothing made sense—not his mysterious appearance, magical touch, or the dream he’d provoked. It sounded crazy, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty. He was the boy who had saved my life in that dream, and I had to know him.