Clearwater Witches Boxset

by Madeline Freeman

  West’s cheeks tinge pink but he doesn’t look away from Griffin. I make a note in my head—Griffin and West must be linked.

  “Griffin,” Jodi begins through clenched teeth, but she quickly quiets as my dad clears his throat.

  “By now, I’m assuming you all know that, last night, a man named Seth tried to kill the witches who were anchored to a crystal containing his powers.” Dad settles on the chair beside me, but his eyes are on the others in the room. “He was using Kristyl to cast his spell, since his magic was locked in the stone, but she fought him. Even then, even if she had somehow been able to stop him, doing so wouldn’t have saved your lives. According to Anya, there was only one way to do that.”

  “Who the hell is Anya?” Griffin asks, throwing up his hands. “In fact, who the hell are you?”

  “Krissa’s dad,” Fox and Owen murmur in unison.

  A ripple of intrigue shivers through the witches and psychics, but my eyes are on my father as he scrutinizes Fox and Owen in turn.

  Anya, who has been sitting in a chair in the hallway behind Dad, stands and steps forward. “It’s not an ideal solution, I understand.” She places her hand briefly on my dad’s shoulder as she slides past him, into the living room. “Once I realized what happened and what would happen if Seth were to break your tie to his magic, I knew there was only one way to get you all safely through. Binding the witches with the psychics gave the witches enough protection to survive. The anchoring spell you performed became a kind of symbiotic relationship because the energy you were anchored to wasn’t from nature, it was from Seth’s essence. When Seth attempted to break it, he turned that relationship to a parasitic one that could have killed you all.”

  Griffin snorts, his gaze flickering to me. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to—I can sense his thought clearly enough. It’s Zane Ross’s face that flashes through his mind. The binding spell didn’t happen soon enough to save him.

  “Is there a way to undo it?” Lexie asks, the words bursting forth like she’s been waiting for the opportunity to release them. She squares her shoulders when eyes flicker to her, and she tosses her fiery red hair over her right shoulder. The self-assured motion is belied by the nervous energy radiating off her. “I mean—thanks and all that. We appreciate that you saved us last night. But it’s beyond awkward having Bria in my head all the time.”

  “It’s no picnic for me either, princess,” Bria snaps, narrowing her uncharacteristically un-lined eyes.

  “Hey, hey,” Anya says, holding up her hands to cut off whatever Lexie is about to retort. “I understand how disconcerting this must be for all of you—especially the witches, since you’re not used to sensing thoughts or emotions from other people. The spell allows you to tap into the abilities of others—primarily the person you’re linked to, but to all members of the group. If it were just witches bound, you’d all be able to draw from a collective pool of magic. Since there are psychics involved, their abilities are now in the mix, too. I assure you, once you all get used to being bound, the flow of thoughts and emotions won’t be nearly so overwhelming.” She makes a point to look each of us in the eyes as she speaks, as if she’s trying to both reassure us and apologize at the same time. She turns to Lexie. But to answer your question, yes. Binding spells are typically pretty easy to undo. However, it might be in your best interest to stay bound together. What happened last night? It was just the beginning. If you think Seth will just give up because you screwed up his plans, you’re wrong.”

  Lexie crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll take my chances.”

  I fight rolling my eyes. In my reality, Lexie and Bria were best friends. I actually liked that version of Lexie. This one is too hostile, too mean-girl, too much like the kind of person her alternate self despised. “Why is staying bound in our best interest? It’s not like the witches are still in danger from the anchoring spell, right?” I can’t help glancing toward Fox. There was a moment last night when I was convinced he’d been killed. I don’t know if I could go through that again.

  Two twinges of emotions surge through me at the thought—a mix of affection and hope from Fox, and one of annoyance and jealousy from Owen. Heat creeps up my cheeks and I avoid eye contact with either of them.

  Anya’s eyebrows pull together for the briefest of moments before she responds. “In his time, Seth spent a considerable amount of effort collecting and honing energy. As I’m sure you’ve all realized, there are limits to what you can do on your own. One solution is to work together with others, feed off their abilities to complete a task. This is like when a whole circle of witches casts the same spell, or when psychics link together to accomplish a goal. But Seth… He doesn’t want to depend on others. He’ll work with them to get what he needs—if he has to—but he’d much rather be entirely self-sufficient, entirely powerful. Instead of simply practicing or learning ways to connect more automatically with the magic around him, Seth turned himself into a kind of storage device. He did countless spells to pull magic into himself and store it there. That’s one reason there was so much power in the crystal you anchored to. And since that magic is gone now, dispersed back into nature, Seth will be looking for ways to acquire more.”

  “So,” Bridget begins tentatively, fidgeting under the gazes directed her way. In all the time I’ve spent with her, I still don’t have a good read on who she really is. Although she typically dresses in a way strategically designed to catch the attention of any guy—curve-hugging clothes revealing ample cleavage—besides recently when she used magic on a classmate, I’ve never known her to have a boyfriend. And while she’s self-assured when flirting or at Crystal’s side when they’re strutting through the halls of Clearwater High, in this moment she’s almost shy. “If Seth wants to build up his magic again, won’t he just do what he did before?”

  “Eventually, yes,” Anya says. “But it’s a slow process. Seth will want to use faster methods right now.”

  It takes less than an instant for me to understand what she means. “Like when he killed the founding family members,” I murmur. Seth admitted to causing a string of accidents resulting in the deaths of three people—Millie, Jodi’s friend who owned a coffee shop on Main Street; Alec Crawford, our classmate Dana’s father; and Crystal Taylor-Cole, Lexie and Crystal’s aunt and the principal of the high school. He was also behind a fire at Felix’s house, but the psychics were able to fend off the attack and save him. “Seth said he took on the energy of the people he killed.”

  “Like Zane?” Griffin’s voice is low, but it still carries through the room. “Oh, wait. That wasn’t Seth’s handiwork, was it?”

  My breath catches and my eyes begin to burn. He’s doing this on purpose. Doesn’t he understand how awful I feel about what happened to his friend, how guilty? I can’t imagine he can’t see it on my face, sense it through the binding spell.

  Anya leans forward in her chair, ignoring Griffin’s comment. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility that Seth will continue to steal the powers of others, and it’s entirely possible he would want to start with all of you since, in his mind, you’re responsible for him losing the magic he already had. But he can’t do that so long as you’re bound. Your energies and abilities are too interconnected, and there’s no way he can cast a spell powerful enough to take it—not even with help.”

  “So… we’re stuck like this?” Lexie asks.

  “For the time being, yes.” Anya offers the smallest of apologetic smiles. “It might be worth it to talk to the person you’re linked to, maybe talk a little about how you’re going to deal with being connected.”

  I do a quick count in my head. Lexie and Bria are linked. Griffin is linked to West, and Felix is to Bridget. Then there’s me, Owen, and Fox. That leaves... “Crystal, who are you linked to?”

  Crystal jumps slightly, like a student caught daydreaming by the teacher. “I, um...” She shrugs, pink rising in her cheeks. “I mean—now that we’re all in the same room, I keep gettin
g, like, flashes of emotions, but not from anyone in particular. I just feel... strange. Kind of... off.”

  Anya scans the room. “There are an even number of you. Typically, in binding spells in groups of mixed abilities, a witch is linked to a psychic. And no one’s ever left out.”

  “I have two,” I offer. “Maybe since I’m both—psychic and witch—I got one of each. Owen and Fox.”

  Anya’s brow furrows. “That... complicates matters somewhat.”

  “You’re telling me,” Fox murmurs, his eyes on Owen.

  “No, I mean—” Anya shakes her head, taking in a breath. “One thing at a time. It’s impossible for one of you to have no link. There has to be someone.”

  Bria’s nose wrinkles. “But there aren’t any other psychics.”

  “That you know of,” Dad murmurs. “Crystal’s a witch, and if she hadn’t been linked with a psychic last night, she’d be dead.”

  “Like Zane.” Griffin’s eyes burn into me as he says it.

  I do my best to tamp down the new swell of guilt, but I can’t fight it anymore. I thought I was helping the circle by breaking the anchoring spell, but Seth had no interest in helping them. All he wanted was for the circle to be separated from his magic so he could reclaim it all. And while it’s true that if Zane hadn’t grown so dependent on the crystal’s magic, if he hadn’t used it at every opportunity, he might still be alive, it’s also true that had I recognized Seth for what and who he really is sooner, Zane would almost certainly not have died.

  The meager walls around my mind I’ve been able to build crumble, and in an instant I’m assailed by the thoughts and emotions of all the witches and psychics—sadness, anger, resentment, concern. Everything swirls through my brain, making it hard to process anything.

  The air in the room suddenly seems thin. I stand and head into the hallway, ignoring the concerned thoughts of Fox and Owen, ignoring my father when he calls after me. Without grabbing so much as a jacket, I open the front door and step out onto the porch.

  It’s too much. I want to shut it all out, but I can’t. Even here on the porch, with the breeze nipping at my exposed skin, I can still detect a constant thrum of energy and emotions coming from the house. I press my hands against the wooden railing and bend forward, fighting the urge to retch, to scream, to do anything to empty out even the tiniest piece of me. It wouldn’t do any good, anyway. It’s my head that’s overflowing, and I can’t empty that.

  A small bird flutters down onto the ground. If only I were as free to come and go. But now, even if I were to leave, I wouldn’t be alone—not really. I can feel them all—not just Fox and Owen: the dim glow of the consciousnesses of all the psychics and witches follows me even out here.

  The bird freezes in its foraging and cocks its head before spreading its wings and launching itself into the air. I envy it. My eyes follow its progress as it streaks through the sky. I only realize that it took flight for a reason when a board behind me creaks.

  His hands are on me before I can turn. His hot breath is stale with the barest hint of alcohol remaining from a binge last night. It’s the clarity with which I know this fact that startles me more than his presence on my front porch, more than his grip, more than the heat radiating off his body. I can read him as easily as I can read the psychics and witches in the house.

  “What the hell’s happening to me?” mutters Tucker Ingram, his bloodshot eyes wide. “Why are there voices in my head?”

  Chapter Four

  Someone pulls Tucker away, throwing him violently to the porch.

  “Krissa, are you okay?” Owen’s is the first face I see, but Fox is pressing in close, too. Each of them has a hand on my arm and instinctively I take a step back.

  “I’m fine,” I murmur, although I’m not entirely sure it’s the truth.

  “Do you know this boy?” Anya stands in the doorway, her eyebrows drawn together. My father is behind her.

  I push past the guys, avoiding watching as Tucker scrambles to his feet. He brushes a lock of his shaggy brown hair off his forehead, his blue-gray eyes wild, like those of a cornered animal. Although he wears his trademark leather jacket, all traces of his bad-boy veneer are absent from his posture. “He goes to school with us.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Owen spits, closing the distance between him and Tucker. I grab his arm as he passes, pressing a thought to him. I know exactly what’s going through his mind—it’s the same thing that goes through mine any time I’m near Tucker: The night outside the bookstore when Tucker tried to attack me. He had been drinking and when he saw me on the sidewalk outside, he pressed me into the store’s wall, pushed his body in close. I could spell the alcohol on his breath. But that was a different timeline, a different Tucker. I push this reminder into Owen’s head.

  Tucker sways slightly, squinting against the harsh winter sunlight. “My head’s been buzzing since I woke up. Full of… I don’t even know. And I’m feeling all twisted up and worried and… I don’t know why. But I felt like I had to get in my car, so I did. And I ended up here.”

  I glance at Anya, sure she’ll be just as confused as I am, but she exchanges a loaded glance with my dad before sighing. She holds a hand toward Tucker and my dad steps back into the hall, clearing the way. “I think you’d better come in here. Clearly there are some things you need to know.”

  My stomach lurches as Tucker steps over the threshold. I know he’s not the exact same person he was in my old reality, but I still don’t like the idea of any version of Tucker Ingram being in my house. A warm hand presses the small of my back, urging me forward, but by the time I turn, its owner, Fox, has already removed it. He’s not my boyfriend anymore; he’s trying to remember that.

  I’m the last into the house and I take my time closing the door. I don’t need to be in the room to hear Anya’s explanation, as I’ve already figured it out for myself: Tucker’s the missing psychic. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. The buzzing in his head has probably been thoughts from the witches and other psychics, although since he’s linked to Crystal, it’s likely she’s the one he’s sensed most. And if he’s feeling “twisted up,” it’s only a reflection of how the rest of us are dealing with the events of the last twenty-four hours.

  The binding spell must have activated a latent ability in Tucker. If he’d been experiencing psychic flashes before, there’s no way he’d be this freaked out now. I should feel bad for him: He’s kind of being thrown into the deep end of the pool with everything he’s stepping into. But I have too much to deal with on my own at the moment.

  I’m not ready to head back in, not ready for Griffin’s accusing stare or the thick tension between Owen and Fox. Not ready to watch Anya brush a hand against my father’s arm or give another too-familiar touch.

  I dart past the living room, past the stairs, and to the sitting room at the back of the house. I just need a few more minutes to clear my head, then I’ll go back in, listen to whatever plan Dad and Anya have for dealing with Seth. I sit on the couch, my back against the arm, and pull my knees to my chest. Just a few minutes.

  I sense his presence before he speaks. Before the binding spell, I would have been able to recognize his energy, but now his consciousness is like a beacon. In the past, sharing thoughts took concentration and effort, but I have a feeling if I opened myself to him now, the process would be as simple and natural as breathing.

  I keep my head down, hoping he’ll get my hint, but Owen crosses the room and sits beside me. “It’s getting harder for me to keep things straight,” he murmurs, his blue eyes devoid of the rage they held only a few moments ago. “At first, it was like… remembering the original version of a movie and the remake. There were similarities and differences, but I could keep track of what happened in which version. I could figure out which actually happened to me—you know, here—and which happened with you. But now…” He blows out a breath. “It’s like… things are slipping away. The memory of walking out of the bookstore and see
ing him with you, it’s so fresh. I can’t remember him any other way.”

  I lift my head, studying his profile. His jaw is clenched, his clear eyes narrowed like he’s trying to see through the wall into the living room, trying to watch Tucker.

  He has the same look on his face that he had the night we first kissed. The intensity is both frightening and, somehow, incredibly sexy. Like he wouldn’t hesitate to legitimately harm Tucker if he saw him as a threat. Like he’d do anything to make sure I’m safe. I don’t know if anyone but Owen has ever made me feel this way. In my reality, I spent years as a target. When I first began manifesting psychic abilities, I didn’t know how to control them and I used them to my advantage, hurting a friend. After she shunned me, the rest of the school followed suit and I spent five years accepting whatever insults or abuse they hurled my way. But from the moment I entered Clearwater High, Owen has looked after me. He’s done everything he could to keep me safe—socially, emotionally, physically.

  Since I found myself in this reality, I’ve been doing my best to put my history with Owen behind me. I was with Fox and this Owen hadn’t experienced the things I had in the other timeline. But now, all that has changed. Owen does remember. This Owen is my Owen.

  Isn’t this what I’ve wanted since the moment I found myself here? A place where Jodi is safe, my mom is alive, and Owen is mine? Can things really be this simple?

  He turns, intensity evaporating, replaced with confusion. Wonder. My defenses are down and my thoughts are reaching him. He reaches forward tentatively, hesitating for a beat before feathering his fingers down the side of my face. I shiver under the desire in his gaze. I want him to kiss me, and I want that kiss to erase all the complications swirling around us—the psychics and witches being bound, Tucker being in the next room, my father’s return, Fox.