“Not powerful enough to rewrite witch lore. Even I know that,” she snapped, evidently agitated by what she’d just discovered. A spell that was a lifetime in the making, one that outlasted the caster’s own life on this plane.
Witches’ power concentrated with time. It was a strange phenomenon. It didn’t matter how many humans were bred into the line, the witch’s power seemed to condense through the years. If Gabriella was capable of making her spells outlive her, then what the Sol would Riel be able to achieve when she was fully in control of herself?
The notion stirred something else that made me curious. “You told us earlier that the magic behind the raven and the storm responded oddly to you. Why doesn’t our magic do that? Why did Linford’s portal call you home, and why, when we use it around you, doesn’t it misbehave?”
“Because the Fae in her is even more powerful than the witch. It is the nature of our species. We are dominant and all else is recessive,” Linford clarified. “Until she claims you, she’ll never be able to use her witch powers as well as she can her Fae.”
“What Fae powers?” Riel sputtered. “I can’t do anything—”
“You’ve never been taught how to use them,” Linford corrected softly. “I told you yesterday that we have a magic all of our own. In you, that magic is more powerful than most.”
“Wait a minute,” Matthew burst in. “Are you trying to tell me that she can use Fae magic now, but won’t be able to use the witch magic properly until we’re claimed?” At Linford’s nod, he scowled. “Why? What kind of sense does that make?”
Riel’s grandfather shrugged. “Who said this had to make sense?”
I sputtered, “That’s hardly helpful.”
“And who said I had to be helpful?” he retorted. “I may have a lot of answers to the questions you ask, but I don’t know it all.”
Riel gnawed on her bottom lip. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “Don’t be.” When he hesitated for a moment, I watched him, and when he shook it off, the sight caught my attention—for a second, he’d looked guilty, his eyes shifty, unable to hold ours, before he moved away and began to bustle around the kitchen.
She blew out a breath, but her gaze was still on the serviette where proof of her grandmother’s power still lay. “What do we do next? Linford says I can’t go back to the Academy yet. He says I’m still under threat.”
“While the AFata are after you, you definitely are,” I rasped, uneasy with the very idea of her returning to Eight Wings.
She cleared her throat. “B-But what about the trials?”
Matthew snorted and reached over to grab her hand. “You think they matter when your safety is at risk?”
I believe she stunned us all when tears formed in her eyes. “You don’t hate me?” she whispered, the words quivering from her lips.
“Never,” I murmured, voice throbbing with the truth of that statement. “I could never hate you, and I know, without having to ask, that Seph and Matthew feel the exact same way.”
“But our troupe—”
Matt shrugged. “What of it? It’s not like they’ll disband us, is it? If shit comes to shit, we’ll have to attend next year’s trial. They can’t make our troupe separate. If we can’t attend the two trials, it just means we can’t go out into the world as a functioning unit.”
I eyed him. That was a whole heap of BS he’d just offloaded onto her, BS she accepted because she didn’t fully understand our ways. Her eyes were big with hope, and I wasn’t going to be the one who wrecked that.
The Academy would either expel us for failing to comply with its rules, or if things got really bad, and we were talking the AFata here so shit couldn’t get much worse, we might even be shunned.
Something to look forward to… but Sol if I cared.
If I hadn’t accepted her power over me yesterday, I did then. In the face of our uncertain future with my people, all that mattered was that we were a unit. That she wasn’t allowed to be taken from us.
“But,” he admitted on a sigh, dragging me from my thoughts, “that might not be our path anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s using his brain, that’s what,” Linford grumbled.
I cut him a narrow-eyed look—was it wrong that I really didn’t like this irascible old bastard?
The dark glint in his gaze as he stared back at me said the dislike was mutual.
“Sometimes, we’re sent to places for a reason,” Matt began slowly, the words coming out fully enunciated, rounded in a way that said he was considering them even as he uttered them.
“Explain,” Riel demanded as she raised one leg, pressed her foot to the base of her seat, and hooked her arm around it so she was hugging her thigh.
“That we’ve been taken off the path we’ve worked toward indicates we have another path that is intended for us.”
I snorted. “Since when do you believe in kismet?”
“All warrior Fae believe in kismet,” Linford retorted. He squinted at me. “What caste were your parents?”
The way he asked me told me he knew already they weren’t warrior. Before my cheeks could grow red with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance, Riel snapped, “Are you trying to make my Virgo ashamed of his family, Grandfather?”
Linford shot her a look. “Trying to ascertain the boy’s roots.”
“By shaming his parents? Everyone has a place in our societies. You know that as well as I do. Without the admin, who’d know where to send the troupes off to? Without the instructors, who’d teach the warriors?” she challenged angrily.
He huffed, but turned his back on us as he strode over to the kettle and, after filling it with water from a jug, set it on.
To Matt, she murmured, “Carry on with what you were saying.”
“When we were flying to you,” he said slowly, “we came across a troupe of six.”
“Unheard of,” Linford butted in.
Sol, this male really irritated me.
“Well, unheard of it may be but it’s true nonetheless. There were six of them,” Seph confirmed. “One leader, but I got the feeling they were two merged troupes with one leader.”
I nodded. “I got that feeling too. Though the one who spoke was evidently in charge, there was another who was just as agitated.”
Matt looked at me. “The redhead?”
“Yeah. Him.”
Seph snorted. “The one you snapped your teeth at?”
Unashamed, I just grinned. “Yup. That one.”
It was a testament to the situation that Riel didn’t even pick up on that, just questioned uneasily, “Troupes are never bigger than four, right?”
“Sometimes five, but I’ve heard of six,” Seph confirmed, “only in war-torn areas where more warriors are required to handle delicate situations.”
She snorted. “This is Honolulu. It’s hardly a hotbed like Syria.”
“Exactly,” Matthew stated grimly. “That’s exactly the point, Riel. Why would there be six warriors here in the city when it’s as peaceful as they come?”
Seph stared at Linford pointedly. “You’re the one who lives here. Do you have any idea why a troupe of six would be required?”
The frown on his face was genuine—he was just as perplexed as we were. “I have no idea why. Last year, there was an incident between two rival politicians who were trying to be mayor, but that’s it. Hardly anything worthy of such a strong troupe.”
“I wonder if the other cities on the islands are manned with larger than usual numbers of warriors,” I mused, curiosity biting every word.
“Would your father tell us?” Matt asked Seph, who instantly shook his head.
“No. He’s retired, and would probably be able to find out, but he wouldn’t tell us. Assemblymen, you know they take their vows to their urns.”
I blinked. “Shame.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” was all Matthew said. “We don’t really need to know if the other cities are similarly manned. We know
that this one is, and there’s a reason for that. Especially while we’re in it.”
Riel shook her head. “You’re taking this out of proportion. I’m only here because my grandfather is.”
“And kismet has a habit of taking us where we’re needed,” Matt pointed out.
“He isn’t wrong,” Seph said softly.
She stared at me, but I shrugged. “Kismet isn’t in my family’s creed like it is with the warriors’,” I admitted. “They work in life or death scenarios every day, it makes them develop fatalistic attitudes.”
Linford snorted, but before he could say anything, Riel shot him a quelling look. It amazed me how, in the day that they’d known one another, she’d begun to treat him as though she’d known him a lifetime.
“What you’re saying is they’re overreacting?” Riel ruminated.
“No, I’m saying that you and I react differently to stimuli.”
“That’s one way of phrasing it,” Linford muttered.
Before I could demand if he was calling me a coward, or worse, Riel rested her hand on mine. Heat poured through the link, and I sighed, feeling my anger dispel.
“Grandfather, do you mind if we stay for a while?”
“This is your safe haven, child. You can stay as long as you wish. Whether the danger has gone or not.”
That had her whispering, “Thank you.”
And, though I loathed the need when I disliked the man as much as he evidently did me, I got up from my seat, crossed the kitchen, and held out my hand to him.
When he stared at it, his brow cocked in question, I gritted out, “You have my gratitude.”
The man seemed a big enough prick to reject my overture, but he stared at me, his eyes assessing me, before he slapped his hand into mine and shook it.
“It’s unnecessary, but I appreciate it.”
❖
Riel
When Linford retreated to the garden with a cup of tea and a bottle of water, I watched him pick up a belt that was on a sideboard in the salon and drape it over his shoulder.
There were gardening tools within it, and I figured if he was heading out there to tend to his yard, that meant we’d have some privacy to talk.
We’d already discussed a lot since the guys had arrived, but there was more to talk about—like our next move.
All I knew was that the AFata were after me, but I had no intention of doing as my grandmother had done— I wasn’t going to run. I refused to.
They wanted me? Well, I didn’t want them.
If they couldn’t take no for an answer? It was shit luck for them, wasn’t it?
“Why do you think my grandmother ran rather than fight the AFata?” I asked softly, as Linford closed the door behind him, a shimmer of gold dust traced through the air as he used magic to shut it.
“Because of your mother?” Daniel inserted gently. “Nothing brings out our defensive and protective instincts more than a child.”
“Even a fighter like she was?” I shook my head. “I can’t see it.”
“She evidently had a reason to escape. Maybe they wanted something from her,” Seph murmured. “Something she wasn’t willing to give them.”
“Sol,” Matthew rasped, “if they knew about her Virgo, then they’d know any child she spawned might end up with a human and together, they’d create a witch born Fae. That would be enough of a motive. After all, who better to spy on the Fae than one of their own.”
“But I’m not one of their own,” I pointed out, uneasy even with the notion.
“To them, you are. Witches before bitches, and by bitches, I mean the Fae,” Daniel mocked, and I huffed out a laugh even as I shoved his arm.
“Ouch,” he moaned, but he was snickering as he cradled his arm.
I flipped him the bird as I crinkled my nose at him. “Baby.”
He winked, then grabbed the bottle of Coke he’d been nursing for a while and took a deep sip. “I have a feeling that when you claim us, it’s going to trigger something none of us are ready for. The fact that your grandfather can’t clue us in on it makes me uneasy as Sol. Thus far, he’s been able to help us, but where that’s concerned, it’s unmarked territory.”
I winced. “True. He did say I’d gain more control with my magic.”
“How out of control is it?” Matthew queried softly.
“Where it takes a young witch a day to learn a simple spell, it took me weeks. My mother despaired of me. She knew we were powerful, and I think she even sensed that I was too, but the spells never worked like normal with me. It made her upset—to the point where she stopped teaching me.
“Most of the things I can do are stuff I picked up from books I bought online when I was old enough and had more patience. I had to work them in my own way though,” I explained.
“Like how?” Seph questioned, as he picked at the remnants of his sandwich. One of his elbows was on the table as he slouched over, and his wings fluttered with every movement he made as though he were fidgeting there and there alone.
Though he was definitely pretty to look at, I knew I was using his beauty as a distraction.
Did anyone like talking about how hard they sucked at something?
Just me?
Well, arrogant or not, I didn’t like chatting about something that should have been as easy as breathing for me but instead made running a two-hour marathon look like a piece of piss.
Huffing, I tried to think of a better way to explain it, but contrary to what Linford had said about witch born Fae making good instructors, I had little doubt that I’d make a shit teacher.
With a wince, I murmured, “Look, normally, we call on an element and we manipulate it to do our bidding, right?”
They hummed their understanding at me.
“So, a witch calls on fire to make a candle burn. But she’d use the wind to flip a switch. It’s all about quantity. I need a tight, pressurized stream of wind to have enough force to press a switch, but if I do the same with the fire, I’ll end up incinerating the candle. You get me?”
“I get you.”
“Understandable.”
“Sure, makes sense.”
At their agreement, I blew out a breath. It made me feel better that, even if I couldn’t use the magic the regular way, I could at least explain how it should be used.
“So, with me, I have to do everything ass backward. A normal witch will calculate the pressure and cast the element. Me? I have to call on the element to calculate the pressure.”
When they gaped at me, I winced.
“How do you do that?” Seph asked eventually, his tone steady.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It was a habit I had to learn at first, and after I did it one time, every other time became easier.”
“So, there’s a disconnect between you and the element?” Matthew inquired.
“No, it sounds like there’s a deeper bond between her and the element,” Seph mused, his tone curious. “That sounds distinctly like her Fae side is using the witch side to its own gain. Think about how we cast witch magic, guys.”
When they shared a look, I demanded, “Explain.” Ever since I’d learned where their magic came from, I’d never understood how it worked.
And now that I knew the Fae had a natural magic of their own, one that was dying out from lack of use, I was even more in the dark.
“Every family is tithed a set amount of magic,” Seph explained. “The more power they have, the more they get.”
I already knew that from Leopold’s shitty classes back at the Academy. “It’s like currency to you, right?”
Seph nodded. “It is. The warrior caste gets the most, then the instructors, then the admin. It’s why the other castes have to work. They earn their magic. Warriors do too, in a sense, with their efforts, but it’s different. Everyone knows they need the most because of their position on the front line.”
“Okay, so how do you call on it?” I knew it was attracted to their house bands, but the ins and outs esc
aped me.
“Elementally,” Matthew rasped.
“How?” I pressed. “I mean, I know it’s bound to gold, so, what? You have big piles of gold dust in the family cellar?”
They looked at each other again.
“You really don’t know?” Daniel replied.
“No. I really don’t know,” I muttered. “Why would I ask?”
“True,” he conceded. “We eat it. We breathe it. Every time we use it, the dust settles, and we absorb it.”
As bizarre as that sounded, it kind of made sense. “So, you regurgitate it?”
They wrinkled their noses, which, considering all three pretty boys did it simultaneously, was pretty fucking cute.
“No. We don’t. Not like in a gross way.”
Sol forbid, I thought wryly.
“What then?”
“Our meals are specially prepared and contain high amounts of the tainted gold. How much depends on our line. So, for example, at the Academy, our meals are prepared for us, are they not?”
I thought about the cafeteria, and how everything worked there. It seemed like a regular school dining hall. Lines of people waiting on their food, except, the one difference was that when they reached the end of their line and hit their turn, we put in a personal request with the dinner ladies.
I guessed that was where the magical exchange took place.
“So, I, for example, because of who my dad is, get a lot of the stuff in my food.” Seph pointed to Daniel. “He’ll get less, and you’ll get even less than that.”
I scowled at him. “That’s so unfair.”
“Story of the universe,” Daniel muttered.
“But at the Academy, it’s a little different anyway,” Matthew reasoned. “There’s so much magic in the air, propping the place up, we can call on it from our environment. Sometimes that’s easier said than done. In Fae areas, it’s simple, but if we head into human territory where less magic is used to construct a district, it’s harder.”
That made sense, especially with how magic was a part and parcel of every aspect of the Academy. I distinctly remembered the ivy that decorated Eight Wings’ walls. The veins were golden, making the regular plant look like an exotic hybrid. When you took into account the sheer quantity of ivy adorning the edifice—something that was only ornamental and not essential to the school’s running—the place became worthy of a Sultan’s palace.
Faeling Hard: An Eight Wings Academy Novel: Book Two Page 12