Natural Witch (Magical Mayhem Book 1)

by K. F. Breene

  He’d initially thought Penny had placed these wards. They had serious power behind them. But now he was sure she hadn’t. Not this one in front of him, at any rate. The magic was too old, too advanced.

  He stared through the doorway at the middle-aged woman pointing the shotgun at him. Her eyes held fearlessness and determination. She would kill him without batting an eye. Penny had some solid genetics.

  “You’re a stranger off the street,” Ms. Bristol said. “You look like a stranger that has lived on the street. In what world would I trust you?”

  “The world in which you have no one else to trust, Ms. Bristol,” Emery said. He put up his hands. Sudden movements were probably not wise. “I’m wanted as well. They’ve been after me since they took down my brother. An enemy of your enemy is a friend.”

  “They’re after you, and you think that makes you a good candidate for keeping my daughter safe?”

  “Listen. You know I can break in. And I know you’ll kill me. So let’s move this inside. Keep the gun on me if you want, but let’s get out of the public eye.” Emery looked behind him as a car motored by. They glanced over, their brake lights glaring in the low light of the morning, but then they kept going.

  “Fine.” Ms. Bristol lowered the gun. “I’ll need an offering of your blood. Just a moment.”

  “An offering of blood?” Penny asked, stepping out of the way as her mother turned back into the house.

  “This ward is to keep out magical species, except for those who give a blood offering,” Emery said, his gaze on the luminous blue eyes of the woman standing across from him. Her tousled brown hair with streaks of reddish-blonde formed a halo around her head. If he hadn’t seen her run over dead bodies, one of which she’d killed herself, he would think her too timid to embark on the journey he knew had just started. He’d worry that she wouldn’t make it out alive, and his offer to protect would fall through.

  But he had seen her in action. He had seen that incredible survival magic track a spell like a dog to a scent, and kill the perpetrator on the other end. Brutal and violent, she had greatness in her, both in battle and in magic. Hell, if she’d inherited even a tenth of her mother’s fire, she’d be just fine.

  “How did you find me the other night?” he asked, his voice softening, responding to her daintiness without meaning to. She didn’t seem like she’d use that sword dangling from her hands. A mistake in his perception that would likely get him killed one day.

  She glanced behind her, probably looking for her mother. Her feet edged toward the door. “It was on my way home.”

  “But the detour signs…”

  She shrugged. “I was hesitating because I don’t have GPS. Then I saw the magical weave, so I decided to check it out.”

  “You can see the actual magic in a spell?”

  Her eyebrows knitted. “Yes. Why, isn’t that normal?”

  “For me? Yes. For most everyone else, no.”

  Her long black lashes fluttered as she looked skyward. “So I’ll be an outcast in this too. Great.”

  A smile worked up his face. “At least you know another outcast, though. So that’s something.”

  Her face flushed, followed by a hard scowl. “I suppose.”

  He laughed because her expressions were so odd. Her scowl deepened.

  “What are you so delighted about?” Ms. Bristol said as she trudged back out with a small plate.

  “Wait…is that gold?” Penny asked, inching forward to see. Ms. Bristol held it within the line of the ward, her expression hard and set. “Where have you kept all this stuff?”

  Emery pulled a small knife from his back pocket and pricked his finger. He smeared red along the offering plate.

  “I take it you’ve kept some things from your daughter.” Emery sucked the rest of the blood off his finger.

  “I’ve kept everything from my daughter for as long as I possibly could. Being that she is the least curious girl in the state of Washington, and I’ve tried not to leave her home alone, it was surprisingly easy. Until recently.” Ms. Bristol dragged the plate through the ward.

  A small spark was the only sign he’d been accepted. He put his hand out slowly and his finger passed through the plane.

  “Did you put this up?” Emery asked, putting his hands where the ladies could see them and stepping toward the door.

  “Her father did, many years ago,” Ms. Bristol said. “He was looking toward the future, though I don’t think even he could’ve known how bad it would get. He moved us here without disclosing the address to the guild. Their recordkeeping was limited to handwritten files at that time. Easy to misplace. These days, with computerized recordkeeping, that wouldn’t have been possible.” Ms. Bristol stepped back and brought up the gun, the black holes in the barrels staring at his chest. “I’ve kept the ward active. The first ward used to be just a warning, but I amplified it last night as another line of defense. I’m not nearly as good at this type of magic as he was. My gifts lie…elsewhere.”

  “Wise,” Emery said, almost missing Penny’s mumbled “Great, more secrets.” He grinned. “Direct me where you want me.” He walked slowly, keeping his hands up, until he reached a plush recliner in a cozy living room. He glanced around him, taking in the large, decently furnished house. This family had money, though they didn’t spend it lavishly. “Was Mr. Bristol employed in a magical field?”

  “He was a top-level Sheriff, set to carry out the decree of the Regional, though that title would make a lot more sense if they had expanded like they’d planned.” Ms. Bristol sat opposite Emery on the couch, the gun resting on her lap, but at such an angle that she’d still put a hole in him if she pulled the trigger. “Penny, sit farther away.”

  Penny, who had been lowering herself onto the other end of the couch, straightened and moved to the recliner next to it.

  Emery swallowed, the prolonged focus of the gun starting to get to him. “He was pretty high up. If I may ask, how did he die?”

  “On the job. That’s all they would tell me. I wasn’t in the guild. My craft is too lowly for the likes of them. They don’t release their secrets outside of the organization, not even about a family member’s death.” Ms. Bristol’s face was so hard it could cut granite. “But he’d said things before he died. He was uneasy about some of the laws he was told to uphold. Then he put up these wards and told me to hide our daughter if he should die. Hide her away and never let the guild know of her existence. That was before the accident. He wasn’t a man to get easily riled up. He was mostly calm and placid, like Penny. The most important thing to him was his daughter, so I didn’t hesitate. I did exactly as he asked, but I kept an ear out for any whisperings. The guild grew more corrupt, and I grew more watchful over Penny.”

  “My brother was a Regional, trying for a promotion to Baron,” Emery said, the pang of loss cutting him.

  Ms. Bristol shifted, and he could see the surprise in her eyes. “That would’ve put him just a step down from the High Chancellor, correct?” He nodded. “He must’ve been powerful.”

  “He was a natural. As am I… As is Penny.”

  Ms. Bristol sucked a breath through her teeth. It didn’t come back out.

  “How did your brother die?” Penny asked into the sudden hush, her voice deep and soft, the pain of loss evident. “Do you know the details?”

  “No. Just like you, I only know he died on the job. It’s the details I intend to find out. That, and who ordered it. I know who killed my brother, and he’ll see his judgment, but I want the initiator as well.”

  “You don’t think it was the High Chancellor?” Ms. Bristol asked.

  Emery shook his head, rage burning in his gut. “I’ve ruled him out. He wants to bring me in alive. He wants my power at his disposal, though he’d try to reset my mind through torture or shock therapy. I can only guess he would’ve wanted the same from my brother. No, he wouldn’t have ordered my brother killed.”

  “So who does that leave with enough clout?” Ms. Bristo
l asked.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “A Baron or a Regional would’ve had the power to order it. And only they could’ve prevented an in-depth investigation afterward.”

  “My late husband didn’t get an investigation at all,” Ms. Bristol spat out. A few seconds of concentrated blinking cleared the sudden gloss over her eyes.

  Emery nodded solemnly. “He is far from the only one. He had some status, but that only goes so far.”

  She nodded, blinking quickly again. The sudden emotion didn’t show in her voice when she said, “You want to find those responsible. Fine. If I didn’t have a daughter, I might’ve fixated on revenge too. But then what?”

  “I kill them.”

  Her lids drooped and her eyes turned dull, indicating she’d known that, and he was wasting her time. She was a hard woman. “How will that change your future? Anyone you kill will simply be replaced with someone just as corrupt. And it will increase their motivation to bring you in.”

  “They’ll never find me.”

  “And you’ll never have any peace knowing that they won’t stop looking.”

  He stared at her with an open mouth. She was right. He’d been so focused on avenging his brother that he hadn’t thought much of the life beyond.

  “You are shortsighted and ill-prepared. You plan to march right into the demon’s nest, without an exit plan, or even a plan at all, and you think you’ll somehow protect my daughter at the same time?”

  Each of her words felt like a bludgeon to his head. He had no idea how she did it, but it was extremely effective.

  A very hard woman. He felt a little sorry for Penny.

  He tried to find a better answer than “Yes?” but failed. He half wished she’d just pull the trigger now and put him out of his misery.

  She shook her head and sighed, her body bowing in the process. “I wish you well in your journey, but you’re an idiot and no way will I trust you with my daughter.”

  Black fog drifted through the space between them, showing him what danger was to come: Ms. Bristol would put her gun aside and stand. While she showed him out of the house, Penny would stand behind her mother, her eyes pleading. Her voice mute.

  The fog cleared, and the scene was as before.

  He couldn’t leave Penny behind. It would kill him. Or maybe kill her? He couldn’t tell.

  “Okay…” Ms. Bristol said, glancing at Penny. Goodbye was in her tone.

  The fog rolled through again. The scene played out a second time, just as it had a moment ago. This time, a weight settled in his gut.

  They’d both die. He could feel it. Penny had to go with him, or neither of them would see this through.

  Ms. Bristol put her gun to the side and stood.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Please, Ms. Bristol, she has to go with me,” the stranger said, his eyes tight. He clutched the arms of the recliner. “My chief gift is that of sight as it pertains to danger. Penny must go with me. It is the safest option.”

  “For you, or for her?” my mother said, her fists digging stubbornly into her hips.

  “For both of us, but I don’t know specifics. I just know what situation will cause me damage, and leaving without her will. I mean, in this case, it will cause us damage, obviously.”

  “Yes. Obviously.” My mother motioned him up.

  He stood and clenched his fists, his arms rippling with muscle. “You would let your daughter die from your own ignorance?”

  My mother shifted and a challenge sparkled in her eyes. “My ignorance? You are a hotheaded young man with a vendetta against a large, corrupt organization and a half-baked plan to bullheadedly sprint at danger with nothing more than a natural gift you don’t have the life experience to truly master. My husband was not as powerful as some, but with his training and experience, he often rose above his more powerful counterparts. Still they took him down. Your brother was a natural, yet they took him down. You’ve willfully ignored all of that, and yet you wish to challenge my ignorance? You would do better not to confuse ego with intelligence.”

  The stranger’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “I’m missing something. The scene changes little by little, but it always ends the same. Even if I force her to come, we’ll both die. If I stay here, we’ll both die. There is something…missing. Something that needs to happen to change our fate…”

  “If only I had a real crystal ball, huh?” I asked, the tension so high that I’d fallen out the other side and gone numb. I didn’t know what the best solution was; I just wanted to get on with it. Running at danger or hiding from it both sounded just fine, if we could just keep the talk away from dead loved ones and corrupt organizations I alone knew nothing about. “Mother, you could always give tarot a try. You actually know what the cards mean.”

  A puzzled expression crossed the stranger’s face right before his eyes brightened. “A powerful mage in the guild wouldn’t normally settle for a lesser-powered mage unless she had extraordinary talents elsewhere. Is that it, then? Tarot focuses your true magic?”

  “I’ll have you know that I was a knockout back in the day,” my mother said, straightening her back in indignation. “I didn’t need power. I had sex appeal.”

  “No.” I put up my hand. “No more of that. Move that topic along, please.”

  “I chose my husband, not the other way around. I could’ve had—”

  “Stop right there,” I insisted.

  “—my pick. I had plenty of offers, powerful or not. A swing of the hips—”

  “You’re forgetting the situation.”

  “—brought the boys to my yard.”

  “Those aren’t even the right lyrics.” I groaned. “Ma, you have to stop.”

  My mother rounded on me, apparently forgetting the stranger in our midst and the fact that there was one less ward protecting us from what waited outside. “Why, because I’m old and fat, I’m not allowed to talk about my past?”

  “No. Because you’re my mother!”

  “You aren’t old and fat,” the stranger said. “You look great.”

  My mother put up a finger. “Don’t you try to flatter me, boy.” She stared at the door, her brow lowered. “It’s a waste of time.”

  “You get set up, and I’ll put up another ward,” the stranger said, taking a step toward the door. “I had planned to, anyway. No time will be lost.”

  “Why are you so interested in hearing my premonition when you have your own?” My mother’s fists were back on her hips.

  “In this case, I’m open to suggestions.” He walked out of the room, his step sure despite the inquisition he’d just endured.

  “He believes what he says,” I told my mother as she stared after him. “You can see it.”

  “There are two types of fools. The one who delivers the message, and the one who believes it.” She stalked away, muttering to herself. I heard the word “fool” at least two more times.

  My feet were carrying me after the stranger before I knew I wanted to follow him. I stopped at the front door, sweeping the street with my gaze.

  He turned enough to glance over his shoulder. “I’m Emery, by the way.” I nodded, but he’d already turned back and raised his hands, fingers spread. “Can you see the elements in the world around us?”

  I frowned and looked at the sky, finally starting to clear after that recent rainstorm. “Like the water, you mean? Rain?”

  “No, the…” He pointed at the grass. “Do you see little…tags sticking out of the world around you? The elements making themselves known to you?”

  I looked where he pointed, trying to see what he meant. Carefully tended deep green blades stretched toward the well-trimmed hedges along the sides. “No.”

  “Hmm.” Without warning, something tugged on my ribs and streams of magic rose from the ground. “Can you see it now?”

  “Yes. Did you check for watchers?”

  “Of course. The one I found…is out of commission. They’ll think it’s heart failure.�
�

  The shock that would normally run through me at such a blasé acknowledgement of death was strangely absent. That probably wasn’t good.

  He wiggled his fingers as the streams reached them, and an expertly woven spell came out the other side. “Do you see how I’ve formed the elements into a spell? Excuse me—the properties into a spell?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “What else do you know about what I’m doing?”

  I shifted my gaze away from his fingers and let it rest on his broad back. Muscles worked under his thin T-shirt, bunching and rippling. He was thicker than fighters I’d seen on TV or YouTube, a bit bulkier. Yet he wasn’t so big as a power lifter. Whatever he did in his off time was strenuous, but it required more movement than simply lifting things. Which would make sense if he was on the run.

  I scanned his clothing, which was worn and dirty. My mother had been right—he did look like he had woken up on the street that day. His blonde-brown hair, a little long and shaggy, probably looked as wild as mine did right now, but somehow it suited him. A pocket flap was upturned on his butt pocket, and a misshapen item rested against his round cheek. Maybe a grouping of items. I wondered if they pertained to magic.

  “Penny?” he prompted.

  I looked at the weave again, clustering into a ball in front of him. Defense pulsed from it. Protection. I got the impression of impregnable walls and iron studs.

  “I know that you are doing as you said—building something that will keep this house safe.” I tried to run my fingers through my hair. They tangled immediately. Which was, of course, the exact moment he turned to glance at me.

  I ripped my hand away. My head jerked with the effort. A clump of hair separated from my scalp, but the rest held fast, trapping my hand.