by Freya Black
I looked back one last time. Sloane pushed his wavy dark hair off his forehead, his eyes trained on me. And then he smiled, making me feel giddy all over again.
Declan brushed a clump of wet hair behind my ear. “What are you staring at, beautiful?”
I snapped my head back until we were facing each other. My lips pressed into a hard line. “Nothing. Just thinking about my mom.”
He drove onto my property and parked in the circular driveway, facing the entry door. “Oh, yeah?” he said, pulling the key from the ignition. He looked amused, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re a terrible liar. I know that up-to-no-good look. What were you really thinking?”
With my right knee positioned between our seats, I reached into the backseat for my beach bag, wedged between football equipment. I leaned forward and gripped the edge of the strap, tugging hard enough that I fell backward into Declan. I didn’t bother moving my head from his shoulder. Instead, I peeked up at him from under my sunglasses with a cheesy grin. “That some things are worth the risk.”
“Yeah,” Declan smiled, “I know what you mean.”
Chapter 5
The heat wave that rolled through Arcadia over the next two weeks disappeared—along with Sloane. I waited for a sign that our brief encounter had meant something. But the only proof I had was the dream that haunted me every night. I searched for him and combed through the woods, looking for answers. He was gone without a trace, not even the slightest hint of who he was or what he’d wanted from me.
Every time I mixed espresso and chocolate syrup together, I’d thought of Sloane. He’d made fun of our Magic Mocha, as any witch or supernatural should. A few days after his visit, I hoped he would materialize. I had developed a crush on him, a minor obsession that was ridiculous.
His magical aura had provoked something inside me I couldn’t put my finger on. I went around touching members of my Coven, none of which had the spark. For over a week, I prepared myself hot tea with honey to remind myself of his scent, like a lovesick teenager.
I stood over the kitchen sink, scrubbing dishes. Cheese and spaghetti sauce were stuck to them like hot tar on a roof. I handed the last dinner plate to Declan to dry, my fingers beginning to prune from the soapy water. Declan filled his hands with bubbles, a mischievous grin on his face. I knew what he was thinking, and I scooped a handful of suds, arming myself with the ammunition I’d need to beat him. Everything was a competition to Declan, and I never turned down a challenge.
When we were younger, I had been faster and stronger until his growth spurt in seventh grade. Now, he was tall and muscular, and he could throw a better spiral pass even though I’d shown him how to flick his wrist to get the perfect spin on the ball. I never let him forget it either.
We turned to face each other, our hands cupped in front of our lips. Like gunslingers in an old Western movie, we squared off.
“One, two, three,” Declan said, half-laughing.
Within seconds, my entire kitchen was covered with dish soap.
Bubbles fell on my eyes and popped open on my cheeks, reminding me of the first time I had gone sledding with Declan. I looked around the kitchen at the spheres suspended in the air, frozen in place.
“Did you do that?” I asked, staring at Declan in awe of the magic he’d created.
He bobbed his head up and down. “Yep. I’ve been practicing.”
“Wow! This is amazing,” I said, almost too speechless to form words.
I reached out and touched the cluster forming around my head, immediately able to sense the magical pulse emanating from it. Declan had been struggling with telepathy for months. My father was a Telepath, so the ability came natural to me. But for those with elemental powers, like Declan, it was harder.
I smiled like a proud mama and threw my arms around his neck.
He kissed my cheek and slid his thick arms across my back. “You know I had to one-up you.”
I laughed, deep and throaty, like it was coming up from the pit of my stomach. “You might be able to dunk on me or throw farther than me, but when it comes to magic, Delaney, you’re mistaken.”
I held my hands in the air, my powers flowing through my veins, as I channeled the moon’s energy. A rainbow of colors danced across the kitchen and settled above my fingertips. In one swift motion, I flung my hands to the sides, and the bubbles crashed to the floor.
“That was epic,” Declan said, impressed.
I shrugged, pretending like it wasn’t that big of a deal when reality, it was a huge accomplishment. “I guess you could say I’ve been practicing, too.”
Kate slipped behind me, the tips of her French manicure digging into my shoulder, as she reached for the aluminum foil with her other hand. She ripped off a long sheet and folded it over the lasagna pan.
“This is for Lillian.” She patted the top of the foil, her eyes burning a hole through Declan. “Make sure she eats. The last time I saw her, she was wasting away to nothing.”
Declan glanced at the baking dish, a frown starting to form. Kate hadn’t meant to upset him, but talk of his mother was never pleasant. Since his father’s death, she hadn’t left the house, not even to go to the market. She never cooked a meal, left Declan to sort through the bills, and refused to participate in Coven functions. Declan had been orphaned the day his father died. So, Kate had done what my mother would have, and she’d taken him in like he was her second child.
He finally lifted the lasagna pan. Hooking one arm around Kate, he kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her. Thanks for everything.”
I walked Declan out of the kitchen with a plate of apple pie balanced on my palm. Before we reached the end of the long hall, I used my powers to blow open the solid oak door. A cool breeze floated through the foyer of our newly remodeled Colonial, rustling the curtains. The streetlights had just turned on, and the one in front of my house flickered to life. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the shadow of a person. Then, I heard the sound of sneakers smacking the asphalt.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating, but as I strained to get a better look, I saw it was Sloane. Either that, or my mind was playing tricks on me. I held on to the wooden banister decorated with strings of sage and mistletoe. The herbs kept dark Fey at a distance. I wanted to rip off a chunk but decided against it as I handed Declan the leftover dessert. My motions were robotic, not the least bit natural.
I started to pick at the chips in my nail polish while looking at Sloane over Declan’s shoulder. After close to eighteen years of friendship, I thought Declan would decipher my peculiar behavior. The constant shifting of my weight from one foot to the other should have been a dead giveaway. Instead, he chatted my ear off about the new quarterback with a killer arm on a rival team. Declan was the quarterback for Arcadia College, our local community college we both attended. I feigned interest, nodding my head and grunting every once in a while. The last thing on my mind was our first year of school or anything in the same stratosphere.
Sloane stood under the flickering lamp with his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. A black fitted T-shirt highlighted the definition in his toned body. Even from across the street, I sensed his power. I knew it was only a matter of time before Declan did, too. It was hard to tell if my attraction to Sloane was my biggest weakness or if he’d somehow commanded control over me. But I had to get Declan out of my house before he detected our uninvited guest.
“Hey,” I said, interrupting our one-sided conversation, “can you help me change a light bulb upstairs?” I concentrated hard, trying to focus on the light fixture on the second-floor ceiling without shattering it.
I needed an excuse to trick Declan into using the back door. He lived next to me, and since his house was set farther behind mine, the back door made just as much sense.
Declan laughed. “You need help with a light bulb? Is that a joke?”
“No.” I flashed a broad smile. “I need a big, strong man to help me, and you happen to
meet the criteria.”
I ran a hand along his back and moved him forward until he was standing in front of the stairs. From what I’d read in a magazine, men liked to feel useful.
Declan had an amused expression on his face. I never asked for help, not when I had magic on my side, and he knew that.
He held up the food in his hands. “All right. Let me put this in the kitchen first.”
Once he was gone, I leaned against the doorframe, my arms folded across my chest. I swore, I saw Sloane wink at me.
“Hey, Dec,” I yelled down the hallway. “On second thought, I think it was a false alarm.”
He turned around, as he was about to reach the opening to the kitchen, and laughed. “What is going on with you lately?”
“I’m not sleeping good. Nothing to worry about.” I pointed my left foot out, my back against the wall as I closed the door over until it hit my sneaker.
Declan didn’t seem to notice and just shrugged. “Okay, I’ll leave out the backdoor. What time should I come over for our run?”
“Um… I’m kind of tired. I think I’m going to take a shower and go to bed, if that’s okay.” I hated lying to my best friend.
“Goodnight, beautiful. Get some sleep,” Declan said. Then, he disappeared into the kitchen, where I heard him say his good-byes to Kate, before he exited through the rear door.
I moved my foot and opened the door wider and saw Sloane’s shadow cast in the street by the dim light from the streetlamp. He stepped forward until our eyes met, and once he had my attention, he smiled. Then, he started down Crescent Drive, glancing over his shoulder one last time, before he turned left at Enchanted Books & Beans. The street dead-ended where I saw him last—the Arcadian forest. I felt somewhat nostalgic, as if it were a part of our routine—except, this time, I decided I’d follow him.
Chapter 6
Consumed by a mixture of fear and a strange impulse to come face-to-face with the imposter, I raced upstairs to my bedroom. I tore apart my closet for my favorite black hoodie. Declan had given it to me for my sixteenth birthday. It was soft and broken in, like a pair of old shoes, and it was perfect for my covert mission. I pulled the zipper up to my chin, checking my appearance in the vanity mirror. Mascara was streaked under my eyes. They looked puffy and bloodshot, a clear sign of my sleep deprivation.
I sat on the wooden bench and sorted through a drawer of cosmetics accumulated over the years—glitter eye shadows, sample lipsticks—until I finally found the cream foundation that could conceal anything. My irises seemed brighter, more of an electric blue—unlike Kate and my mother, who each had a gentle hue like that of waves crashing against a sandy beach. Between a box of bobby pins and brushes, I noticed a tube of black face paint.
Last Halloween, Declan and I had dressed as zombies from The Walking Dead. We’d strolled through town with pale faces, laughing all the way to the party in the woods.
This time, I needed to be invisible, so I slid the thick paint under my eyes. I looked like Declan in his football uniform, anti-glare grease and all. My efforts to look fierce, somewhat scary even, were pointless. A manipulative shape-shifting Hexenjager like Sloane would never be afraid of a Crescent Witch. They hunted us, killed my family and others like us, and were the reason for my family’s curse.
I jumped down the giant staircase, three at a time, and yelled, “I’m going for a run. I’ll be back,” to Kate on my way out the front door. A quick run before bed was a part of my regimen, a way to clear my head.
I peeked over my shoulder at our brick Colonial with high pillars and white shutters. The front porch shone brightly, casting its shadow over the manicured lawn. I was surprised the steps were vacant. Kate didn’t even bother to check on me, which was a relief.
At the end of Crescent Drive, I made a left toward the Arcadian forest. Sloane had a few minutes on me, but I could sense his powers nearby. His magic sent a chill up my arms. I followed his trail of electricity that floated through the darkness until his scent faded. Moonlight broke through the thick canopy and illuminated a path. Drawn to the power of the moon, something no Crescent Witch could resist, I channeled my energy. I felt compelled to walk toward the light, ignoring the nerves bubbling in my chest.
Twigs snapped under my feet, vibrant green leaves stirring about. A rush of fear and excitement ripped into me because I knew he was close. I wandered down the trail, kicking up rocks, overjoyed at the thought of seeing Sloane.
For ten minutes, I walked with nothing but the sound of owls hooting.
I’d read folklore to kill time between customers at Enchanted Books & Beans. Living in a world where the supernatural mixed with a mundane mortal existence, I had to prepare myself. In most Native American stories, owls represented death. But to some, they could also mean protection from danger.
I held on to a tree branch and skidded down a slippery path that led to the Sabine River. It flowed through the forest, our magic giving it a certain sparkle.
The screeching birds simmered down as I neared the water, and I wondered if it was a sign, similar to the Romans belief that birds could divine the future. And then the forest fell silent, except for heavy footsteps. I spun around, a jerk reaction to the warmth of his breath on my neck, and took a step back.
Sloane laughed to himself and shook his head. “You look ridiculous.”
Infuriated, my powers burned my skin, igniting a fire inside me. My hands balled into fists at my sides. “Who do you think you’re talking to like that?” I wanted to hit him but restrained myself. “Don’t you have any manners?”
A small part of me was embarrassed, but when his laughter ceased, he flashed a tiny smile that made my anxiety fade.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to touch me.
I recoiled, moving closer to the river but careful not to step too close. He glanced down at his hand, a sour expression on his face. I couldn’t help but stare at his physique as he pushed his hands into his pockets. He was muscular, not thick in the chest like Declan but lean. A vein bulged beneath his shirt and down his arms. I admired his physical attributes far longer than I should have, biting on my lip so hard that I hadn’t realized I had been doing it until it started throbbing.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said after a brief moment of silence. “You’re not ridiculous. The face paint kind of is, but you’re—”
“Stop!” I pushed my palm in front of me to keep distance between us. “Who are you, and why are you in Arcadia?”
“Sloane,” he said, confident and unaffected by my harsh tone. “Fiona, you know me. I would never do anything to hurt you. Why are you so afraid of me?”
“I don’t know you,” I snapped back.
“You do,” he pleaded, holding out his hand. “Let me show you.”
Sloane moved forward. I inched back until my sneaker slammed into a rock. His skin smelled like honey, which made him seem more alluring than scary. I looked up into his steely-blue eyes, my heart crumbling into a thousand pieces. For some strange reason, I knew he was right. He wouldn’t kill me. I tried to slink away, my heart pounding out of my chest.
Sloane smiled, his arm outstretched, waiting for me to grab hold. “You were always stubborn, Nona.”
My lip quivered at his insult. “Stop calling me that! You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.”
I started toward the path when he grabbed my wrist. His grip was loose enough for me to shake him off, but I just stood there and stared at his fingers. My skin tingled from his touch, sending me into a euphoric daze. I loved the feeling of magic, and he smiled, as if he knew I could not resist its power. I closed my eyes, his electricity shooting up my arm. Cocooned in his warmth, I let go of my inhibitions, a low moan escaping my lips.
“You know me, Fiona,” Sloane said, his face an inch from mine. “Stop fighting it, and let me show you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not fighting anything, other than my desire to be lured into your trap.”
Sloane stroked my chin with his thumb, expelling the anger from my body, and then he wrapped his arms around me. I ignored the fear lingering at the back of my mind and let him hold me. Whatever spell he had me under, I was his.
“Close your eyes,” he said in a hushed tone.
I did as he’d said, my body shaking with nervous anticipation.
“Imagine you’re at Dakota Pointe. The sun is shining, and you’re standing at the edge of a cliff, looking out into the forest.”
I opened my eyes, and my mouth flung open in shock that he knew about my favorite place in the Arcadian forest. Before I could speak, he brushed his finger across my lips. My heart beat faster as I envisioned the sun-glazed peaks. Except for magic, nothing compared to the feeling of the wind in your hair at two thousand feet. At least, that was true until I’d met Sloane. His touch was like a drug that sucked me in deeper until I was powerless.
“Relax your mind,” he said as he pulled me closer. “For this to work, you have to channel your powers.”
His chest rose and fell against mine, our bodies meshed together. I pressed my lips tighter, struggling with the urge to kiss him even though my insides burned. My breathing was erratic, unlike anything I had ever experienced with another boy.
“Kiss me,” I mumbled, unaware I had spoken until it was too late to take it back.
His muscles tensed under his shirt, and with my eyes still shut, I anxiously waited for him to make a move. Instead, he held me at arm’s length.
“This isn’t how I imagined our first kiss,” Sloane said.
I couldn’t tell if he was joking.
I crossed my arms, about ready to spit because I was so blind with rage. Without even channeling them, my divine powers rocked through me. Under normal circumstances, I would rein in my feelings. But I was in the middle of the woods with a complete stranger, so I couldn’t have cared less if I lost control.