Hush (Witches & Warlocks Book 2)

by R. M. Webb

  We get to my door and Noah pauses and drops his hand. “Here we are.”

  “Yep. Here we are,” I say, distracted, wondering what Daya meant with all her veiled threats and what Lucy meant with all her … Lucy-ness.

  “You take care, Zoe.” Noah leans in and gives me a hug, his scent enveloping me, the stubble of his beard scratching the skin on my throat ever so slightly.

  “Ya. Have a good morning.”

  Wait. What?

  Noah pulls back, his brow all scrunched up and confused.

  “Damnit,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I mean, good night. Have a good night.”

  “You’re something, Zoe Tate.” Noah brushes a finger against the tip of my nose. “Absolutely something.”

  “And by something, you mean awesome, I’m sure.” I gather my hair and drag it over my shoulder.

  “Of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Noah wanders down the few steps down the hallway to his door, chuckling to himself and I let myself into my darkened room. The notification light on my phone is blinking away, a little beacon on my bedside table. My stomach is an instant roiling boiling mess of excitement and my hands tremble a little when I pick up the phone and read the text from Luke waiting for me.

  Meet me? Chapel Hill Cemetery. You say when.

  A cemetery? Is he for real? I’m almost grateful Daya denied my request to go out this evening. What’s he thinking? Trying to get me to meet him in a cemetery?

  But then, maybe he needed to pick a place that was sure to be secluded so we wouldn’t be interrupted. Maybe he has information for me. Maybe, I’m missing out on a chance to have so many of my questions answered.

  You know what? I’m here voluntarily. Or at least I think I’m here voluntarily. Daya can’t dictate when I can and cannot leave. I type out a text in reply:

  Gimme half an hour.

  Chapter Seven

  So, it looks like I’m gonna sneak out. In all my life I can count all the rules I’ve ever broken on a closed fist. I don’t even know what to make of the fact that I’m trying to decide if I should try to creep down the hallway and out the front door of if it’d be better to make use of my window. And the honest fact is that I have not one single clue.

  My instinct says my window is probably better because it eliminates the chance of being seen by some random somebody out in the hall before bed, but I’m up on the second floor and that means I’ll probably hit the ground harder than I’d like. Plus, do I really have the courage to drop out of a second floor window? I pace back and forth around my room, trying to gather my wits, trying to work myself up to believe that yes, I’m actually gonna do this. Down the hall or out the window, it’s gonna happen.

  I swallow hard and stride over to my window, lean on the glass, and look down at the grass below. Just as I start to open the locks and slide the thing open, I find another reason to pause. Shouldn’t I change into dark clothing? That’s what people do when they’re sneaking around, right? Wear dark clothes to blend into the shadows? As I change I’m struck by another thought. I’m a witch. I don’t have to jump out the window and let gravity have its way with me. I can just cast a spell so that I float on down without getting hurt.

  Bolstered by my awesomeness, I zip up my dark gray hoodie and pull my hair back into a ponytail while trying to come up with the right incantation that will let me jump out of my window without getting hurt. Magic is weird, so much of it is reflex, like your hand shooting out to catch a ball thrown your way. (Or, dodging out of the way of said ball if you’re a wuss like me.) The right incantation can guide that reflex into something more purposeful.

  The window sticks a bit when I try to open it and relief at having an external reason to back out of sneaking out washes over me, followed almost instantly by regret. I give the window one more heave and it slides upwards, the ancient wooden frame squeaking its complaint at the forced mobility. I freeze at the sound and wait for hordes of armed guards to rush through my door while alarms blare lights flash and whatever other kinds of insanity happen when someone gets caught breaking the rules. Nothing happens other than the cool night air filtering in through the screen, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of rebellion.

  I fiddle with the screen until I get it out of the way and whisper the first incantation that comes to mind. “Adsurgere descendit.” With that said, and after a deep breath and several thoughts of fluffy white clouds and floating and landing on trampolines, I leap from the window.

  And fall.

  Fast.

  I bite back a scream and focus hard on my magic, willing it out of me as the ground rushes up, a great big threatening mass of ‘this is gonna hurt’.

  Nothing.

  No magic.

  I hit the ground with a thud.

  Pain shoots up my ankle and I roll onto my back, clutching my leg.

  What the hell? I can kill an entire garden and bring it back to life like the Amazon on crack, but I can’t keep myself from falling out a window? The pain in my ankle is bad. I call on my tiger, hoping that having my familiar around will amplify my magic into existence and whisper a healing spell once she’s at my side. The pain subsides, just like it’s supposed to. I look back up at my window, a gaping void in a wall of uniformity and whisper another spell, this one designed to set my window back to rights.

  The screen slides into place and the window slips closed. If it squealed in its frame, I couldn’t hear it from here. Well, at least my magic isn’t, I don’t know, broken or something. Even if it was totally strange for that one spell not to work.

  The tiger nudges me and I guess it’s probably a bad idea for me to be hanging out on the ground here, just waiting for someone to find me and send me back to Daya’s office for the second time in one day. I hop up and test my weight on my ankle. It’s fine. Whatever I’d done to it, I’d undone with my magic. A smile starts in my chest and works its way to my face.

  That’s right, I’m a badass witch who sneaks out at night busting out healing spells when shit goes sideways. Not exactly the picture I’d drawn of myself just a couple weeks ago while working in cubicle village and hiding behind my best friend when I got afraid.

  “Come on, then,” I whisper to the tiger and she takes off towards the garden. Shows what I know. I was gonna follow the driveway out to the road and probably get myself caught in the process. Of course it’s a better idea to go the back way.

  It doesn’t take me too long to get to Chapel Hill Cemetery, especially not with the tiger leading the way. Thing is, I’m having a hard time actually going into the Cemetery. I know, it’s just a place. Except it’s a place with dead people and it feels wrong to trespass on the dead. And if I’m being really honest, it’s a little creepy, you know, what with all the dead people. But, I’ve come this far, it’d be foolish to turn back now. But did I mention there are dead people?

  The gate’s locked, of course, so I’m going to have to climb the fence. Which I do, and while it’s not the most graceful thing I’ve ever done, it is, in fact, the first time I’ve ever climbed a fence. The tiger leaps over the thing with all her supernatural might and walks ahead of me with the assuredness of a predator amongst prey. I try to emulate her confidence. Because, you know, it’s the most natural thing in the world to break into a cemetery at night and I should exude confidence while I do it.

  I follow her up a hill, past rows and rows of headstones until we get to the top. She pauses and looks at me, her great blue eyes shining ever so slightly in the dark. With a mighty sigh she fades from view. Somehow, that sigh speaks of judgement and disappointment, but maybe that’s just me coloring her reaction with my own thoughts and feelings.

  “Hey.”

  The voice comes from somewhere to my left and I somehow manage not to scream even though I jump out of my skin. I find Luke leaning against a tree, his arms folded across his chest. “Hey,” I manage and head his way, not completely sure what to make of the surge of emotions racing thro
ugh my body at this moment. I’m thankful that my legs are even holding me up, because they’re all quivery and weird feeling.

  “I didn’t think you’d come.” Luke’s still leaning on the tree and his voice is so familiar, so welcome, but his posture is so withdrawn and reticent. This big rush of happy relief floods through me and I remind myself that the memories I have of our time together - his quick laugh, his warm embrace, his probing questions - those were all contrived.

  “Why are we here, Luke?” It’s a question, but I say it like a statement. All hard and final, more like an accusation than anything.

  His eyes shoot into his hairline and he presses off the tree. “I guess a lot’s changed, huh? They removed the dampening spells Becca had on you?”

  I don’t deign to answer his question. “How much did you know about what was going on? How long did you know about it? How …” I want to ask him how much of our relationship was fake, but I’m not sure I really want to know the answer to that question.

  Luke throws up his hands. “Look, Zoe, I asked you to meet me so I can apologize to you.”

  I wait for him to continue and when he stays silent I sit back on my heel. “I’m listening.” I’m also regretting this decision. All I’m going to get out of this is trouble when I try to get back into Windsor Manor.

  “Look, I can’t tell Becca’s story. But I can tell you mine.”

  “Funny, that’s just what Noah says about you.”

  “You and Noah talk about me?”

  “Not much. Noah told me about the ranch. I guessed you were there, too.” I wait for Luke to respond and all I get is a glimpse of his profile glowing in the moonlight as he turns his head to stare off into the distance. God, I miss that face. And I hate myself for missing it. “Look,” I say, showing Luke my palms and backing up, “this was clearly a bad idea.”

  And then somehow, without me seeing it, Luke closes the distance between us and grasps my wrist. “Don’t go,” he says and I know in that instant that I won’t.

  The contact of his skin against mine brings with it the ever familiar rolling, purple fog, creeping up my arm and feeling ever so comfortable. Now that I can recognize it as his magic greeting my magic, I have to wonder how much of me falling for him was the product of a spell and how much of it was that a basic part of me recognized the same basic part of him and it was good.

  I sigh.

  I’m frozen.

  I’m still just an awkward girl, stuck in her own head, lacking the skills she needs to navigate tricky conversations.

  With his hand still gripping my wrist, Luke pulls me close and wraps the fingers of his other hand around my other wrist. “When I agreed on the double date at Flannigan’s, you were nothing more than a favor I was doing for Carter. But the moment I saw you, Zoe,” his hands tighten on my wrists, “the moment …” Luke swallows. “I could tell that you and I were the same and that you were in more trouble than someone like you should have to deal with.”

  I’d like to say that I’m still feeling all strong and independent and indignant but his words are melting me. The tension I was holding in my arms and shoulders to keep distance between us is bleeding away and I’m sinking into him.

  “And then I got to know you, the real you, the person who was so deeply buried by all the spells and counterspells Becca had on you and I … dating you wasn’t just a favor anymore. It was a pleasure. A hugely selfish pleasure.”

  “If it was such a pleasure, then why didn’t you help me?” There’s a needy whine in my voice that makes me cringe.

  “I did. I tried. I did what I could without risking my position.”

  And just like that, all the melting and sinking and softening towards Luke hardens right back up again. “Your position? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Luke drops my wrists and leans back on the tree, crossing his arms over his chest. The relief I feel at being out of his grasp is instant and rivaled only by my desire for him to touch me again. “Noah told you about the ranch?”

  “A little.”

  “He and I went very different ways.” Luke looks off towards the moonlight and I swear, his eyes glow a faint red. I’m thrown back to that night I started transitioning, that night he raced towards me at inhuman speeds. I shudder and take a step back.

  “Noah told you how dark magic just creeps into you and takes over?” I nod. “It only sucks if you fight it, Zoe. If you give in, it’s absolutely beautiful.” He looks back to me and it’s clear I didn’t imagine the whole red eyes things. They’re crimson and as much as I’d like to look away, I can’t. “Zoe. You and I? We’re the same. Can’t you feel it? Haven’t you felt it?”

  Luke reaches out and grasps my hand and there’s a pulse of power and wind blows our hair back off our faces. It’s like the lights fade and we’re standing on a stage in the spotlight, just the two of us. He slides his hands up so they’re palm out, and I press my palms to his and our magic seeps outward, dark and sultry and filled with possibility. It drips to the ground in black clumps, dispersing with little crackling sounds. For the first time since I’ve been living at Windsor Manor, I can feel the tiger pacing inside me, roaring and snarling, so frustrated and upset she’s making me antsy.

  I look up at Luke and find myself staring at his lips, watching his mouth move as he whispers something to me: “Just give in, Zoe.”

  Oh, I could meet him like this night after night. Get answers to the questions Noah won’t touch. I’ll use Luke to understand my dark side because part of me knows I won’t ever be able to control it until I understand it.

  It’d be so nice to stop fighting. To just let what happens, happen. To relax. Let down my guard. I lean into him, sliding my hands up his arms and onto his shoulders, craning my neck and parting my lips. All I want is to kiss him.

  But that’s not gonna happen.

  Behind me, someone clears his throat. Luke tenses and I jump back, nerves on fire before I can focus on who just interrupted us. After I recognize who’s standing in the dark, his hands shoved into his pockets and his lips strung into a tight little line, my nerves explode into a tsunami of an upset stomach.

  Luke clears his own throat and swallows. “Hey, Noah.”

  Chapter Eight

  This is like the worst possible way I could have imagined this night going. It’s not like I have any reason to feel guilty about Noah catching me like this … well, wait. That’s a lie. I have every reason to be guilty about Noah catching me after sneaking out of Windsor without permission, wrapped up in Luke’s arms, just about to kiss him. Especially after the way Noah and I kissed this afternoon.

  I say the first thing to come to my mind. “I’m sorry.” And it’s true. Mostly. I mean, I’m sorry I broke the rules, and I’m sorry if I hurt Noah. But there’s this little part of me that’s still all keyed up and excited. This part of me that’s thrilled to know I snuck out. This part of me that’s excited by the chaos I’ve caused. I don’t think I’m comfortable with that part existing inside me.

  Noah looks at me with so much disgust that I want to cry. “Just … don’t. Ok, Zoe?” And now my hands are shaking and my lip is trembling and I really and truly wish I’d stayed home tonight. So much for thriving in chaos.

  “Hey.” Luke steps forward. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

  “Oh, ya?” Noah rolls his eyes. “And how would you have me talk to her? Through a fog of magic designed to confuse her and keep her weak?” Luke starts to protest but Noah ignores him. “I think you’ve done more than enough, don’t you, Luke?”

  There’s this moment of intense eye contact and strong postures and magic hangs heavy in the air, like tanks in the streets and men with guns on your sidewalk. Something serious is about to happen. Noah’s tiger flares to life beside him and I shit you not, a dragon pops into the air beside Luke. An honest to goodness dragon breathing tiny bursts of flame through his smoking nostrils.

  It’s the rumble of an earthquake and the sputtering of a long dorman
t volcano and all I want to do is make it all stop. Slowly, as if creeping through a minefield, I reach out and touch Noah’s hand. When nothing happens, I step forward and thread my fingers into his. His hand stays limp, his fingers extended rather than folding up to entwine themselves in mine. It stings but I deserve it and ignore it. “Noah?” He refuses to look at me, but I give his hand a little tug anyway. “Noah? Take me home. Please?”

  There’s this moment when he doesn’t move and I’m so afraid they’re going to start trying to kill each other, but then he finally turns to me. There’s so much distance in his eyes, disappointment just perches there, pointing its crooked little finger my way. He walks off without saying a thing and I follow him, sparing Luke one last look over my shoulder.

  We get out of the cemetery and Noah pauses. “You have a tracking spell on you, remember?” he asks without quite looking at me. “I knew the moment you left the Manor.”

  There’s this sinking feeling of impending doom settling into my flip flopping stomach and I can’t think of anything to say other than: “I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t tell you about the magic suppressing spell on the window because I didn’t want you to feel trapped. Plus, I really didn’t think you’d try something like this.” So, that’s why I fell. A magic suppressing spell. He finally looks at me and I almost wish he’d look away again. I can’t stand what I see in his eyes. “The fact that you were able to cast any magic at all is pretty amazing.” He doesn’t look like it’s amazing. He looks too sad for that. He puts a hand on my shoulder, waves his free hand through the air, and whispers something under his breath.

  There’s this awful wrenching and it’s like I’m being pulled in two different directions at once and my ears keep popping like I’m on a plane. And then I’m standing alone in my room in Windsor Manor, staring at my closed window and wondering what the hell just happened.