Trial by Fire (Covencraft Book 1)

by Margarita Gakis

  “I told you, it’s been going fine.”

  “And what if what’s in the pantry had swallowed you up?” Paris demanded.

  “I would have landed on the bedroom floor next to the cans of vegetables I tossed in,” she said matter-of-factly. “Probably,” she added. “I mean, most likely.” The top rock fell off its perch and clattered to the counter.

  “You. Don’t. Know. That.” Every word was perfectly enunciated and resonant.

  A small burst of confetti escaped from the tornado and sprayed across the kitchen, peppering the area with bits of colored paper.

  “While I agree that you are powerful, you have not the skill nor the discipline to control your magic yet.” Paris admonished. “You were to wait for supervision.”

  Jade held an affronted look on her face. “Are you using a ‘tone’ on me?” Her little ball of fire swirled up in front of her and she batted it away.

  “What?”

  “I hear a tone in your voice.”

  “If you mean am I angry with you then yes, I am using a ‘tone,’ as you say.”

  “I have it all under control,” she protested. Another rock slipped off the pile, the water mist fell back into the pot and another blast of confetti spat out of the eddy. The fireball grew larger. The coffee spoon wildly increased in velocity.

  “That is hardly the point. We have rules in the Coven.”

  The third rock fell to the counter top.

  “I said I had it under control.”

  Paris tried to contain his annoyance but wasn’t successful. “You’ve no idea the kind of power you have.”

  “You said I was good at it!” Jade exclaimed hotly, gesturing wildly with her hands.

  “When? When did I say that?”

  “Well you didn’t exactly say it but it was implied. There was an implication,” she pointed her finger at him, “that first night at my apartment and then with Dr. Gellar.”

  “That doesn’t mean that you have carte blanche to try things out on your own.”

  The ball of fire started to roll madly behind her and small flames licked out of the perfect sphere.

  “I thought you would be glad that I had started without you. Being leader of the Coven probably doesn’t leave you a lot of time for training me.”

  In a flash of irritation at the mass of things going on in the room, he waved his hand in a clean, sharp gesture, putting all her magic to a stop at once. It was a harsh and brutal spurt of power and Jade visibly flinched at it, curling in a bit on herself. The confetti fell to the ground, the rocks crumbled to sand on the counter. The spoon stopped spinning and the fireball was sucked to the ground where it disappeared.

  “I will make time for you.”

  Rubbing her sternum, she gave him a petulant look. She probably felt a little sick from his magic. “Show off.”

  His responding look needed no words for her to interpret it. Exasperation.

  Paris glanced towards the pantry and taking the spoon from her coffee cup, he tossed it in. It disappeared like the can of vegetables. There was a very soft thud as, seconds later, it landed on the upstairs floor.

  “Would you please go upstairs and stand in your bedroom? I want to know where it falls out.”

  “Fine,” she said in a tone of voice that somehow managed to convey a host of emotion with only one syllable. Jade pushed her chair back and left her kitchen.

  After giving her enough time to get upstairs, Paris tossed another can of goods - chicken soup, this time - into the pantry. He waited for the impending thud and then headed upstairs.

  Jade was standing with her arms crossed at the foot of the bed. She pointed to the ceiling directly above her.

  “There,” she said with no preamble.

  A collection of foodstuffs and other items surrounded her on the floor. Several cans, some forks, the spoon Paris tossed in and an apple. He picked up one of the cans and shook it a bit. It still sounded like soup. He hefted its weight. It felt the same. Looked the same. He eyed the ceiling and pointed. “Right about here?” he asked.

  “Yup,” she followed his gaze.

  Paris tossed the can up toward the ceiling. There was a loud thunk before the can came back down, bringing a chunk of the plaster and a fine shower of dust down with it.

  He said nothing. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for his new student.

  “Fucking brilliant, English,” Jade said dryly, eyeing the dent in her ceiling. “Never would have thought of that.”

  He glared at the hole in the ceiling like everything was its fault.

  “You’ve no idea what it is or what to do, do you?” Jade asked.

  Paris let out a breath. “Absolutely none.”

  They stared up at the ceiling together.

  “Do you think stuff will fall out of it on its own?” Jade finally asked.

  “Hard to say.”

  They both nodded slightly to themselves as they craned their necks upward. Finally Paris clapped his hands together.

  “Right,” he said after a long silence. “I’m taking you out to dinner.”

  *

  The restaurant Paris pulled the car up to boasted faux candelabras flickering on either side of the ornate door. Jade took one look and then turned to Paris.

  “Absolutely not,” she said flatly.

  “What? Why not?” Paris asked, eyeing the restaurant with confusion.

  “Just keep driving.”

  When she saw the golden arches of a fast food joint she slapped him on the arm with the back of her hand and pointed.

  “You’ve got to be joking,” he grumbled.

  “Nope. I’ve got a mac-attack. Pull in.”

  It seemed as though the entire population of the restaurant turned and looked as they walked in and Jade was pleased to note that this time, no one was looking at her. They were all staring dumbfounded at Paris. He was clearly out of his element and stared at the menu as though he’d never seen it before.

  Huh. Maybe he hadn’t.

  Jade ordered by number and then both she and the teller looked expectantly at Paris who winced a bit before his eyes found the salad menu and lit up. Jade rolled her eyes at his order.

  “No one comes here for the salad. They’re not even good salads. If you want lettuce, you can get it on your burger.”

  “We’re at your choice of venue. You don’t get to choose my meal as well.”

  She should be pissed at his tone but he was so affronted to be in the McDonalds, like it offended his very core, that all she could do was laugh. “Okay, English. We’ll get you a salad.”

  He added a milkshake to his order and she raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ve a sweet tooth,” he confessed as though he were embarrassed.

  “You’ve almost made up for ordering a salad,” Jade replied back with a grin. She pulled out her wallet and paid for both of them before he could protest.

  Their food arrived quickly and she snatched the tray with practiced ease, carrying it to the little condiment stand where she loaded up on salt, ketchup, pepper, napkins and straws. Paris seemed befuddled by the entire ritual, cataloguing her movements.

  “Jesus, it’s just a McDonalds. You’ve been in one before, right?”

  “Not for a very long time. Not since I was a child, I believe.”

  “We’re expanding your horizons,” she said dryly. She picked a table and then ripped open a few packages of salt and pepper to sprinkle on her fries. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up to his horrified expression.

  “What?”

  “I can hear your blood pressure rising.”

  “Pfft. Gellar says I’m one of the healthiest people she knows,” Jade replied, dunking a fry in ketchup and cramming it in her mouth. “I mean, I’m not eating this every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner, so I think I’ll be okay.”

  He made a noncommittal kind of sound and started sparingly putting dressing on his salad. After watching him struggle to toss it with the little plastic knife and fork, she
took pity on him. Taking the plastic container from him, she sealed the lid and then shook it like maracas, presenting it back with a flourish.

  “Ta-da.”

  He poked it with his fork and apparently found it satisfactory. “Thank you.”

  As they ate, he asked about her day at the Coven, obviously interested in where she and Henri had gone, and about her lunch date with her two new friends. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken so much of an interest in her daily activities. It wasn’t creepy or intrusive - he seemed genuinely interested in what she had done and her thoughts about the city and her tour. When she told him she had worked on her spells most of afternoon she inadvertently started up his lecturing again.

  “What on earth possessed you to reach into your pantry? Your arm could have been lopped off at the elbow.”

  “I hardly knew that when I reached in there the first time, now did I? I was just trying to get some peanut butter and poof! Missing hand.”

  She thought about how it had happened and while she should have been scared or horrified, all she had felt was really excited by the development. Once she realized that she could simply pull her hand out and she was unharmed and still one piece, she’d spent the next several minutes playing the hokey-pokey with her pantry, putting her arm in and taking it out, putting her foot in and then she started throwing stuff in. She never quite worked up the hutzpah to crane her neck in.

  Yet.

  Paris made a sort of ‘hmph’ sound that came across as prissy and annoyed. “I want to have a look at the spells you performed.”

  “I can tell you exactly what I did.”

  He held up a hand. “Don’t,” he said warningly. “God only knows what would happen in a … Restaurant,” he used the word grudgingly, “full of people. I don’t want to see anyone disappear from their table and reappear on the grill in the back. Besides, I need to see the spells verbatim.”

  “I know them verbatim,” Jade declared. “I’ve a photographic memory.”

  “Truly?” he questioned in his oh-so-British way.

  “For printed material, yeah. Not so much for stuff I see or hear. But if I read it, I’ll remember it.”

  “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  Jade looked up from where she was trying to wrestle her burger into her hands without squishing the contents of the middle out and all over her tray and caught him staring at her. She sucked special sauce off one of her thumbs.

  “I guess.” She shrugged. “What did you do all day?”

  She got the impression he was trying not to bore her as he told her about his day but it was kind of a total snore fest. She didn’t know the people he was talking about, nor the departments, and couldn't tell if this was considered a normal day or was out of the ordinary in any fashion. The only thing that kept her from being completely bored was that Paris clearly loved his job. It was the most animated she had ever seen him and his passion for his work came across in his narrative, keeping her interested and invested. He seemed to realize half way through his explanation of the new accounting system for amortizing assets that he was getting a little carried away with the minutiae.

  “Well, I suppose it sounds all very tedious and monotonous, but it’s my job.” Paris took a long pull on his milkshake.

  “I get it,” Jade offered. “My job is interesting to me too, but telling people you work in statistical analysis is usually a conversation killer.”

  He gave her a quick smile and she felt pleased that she had managed to pull one from him. Jade fiddled with the straw of her drink, at a loss for what to say next.

  She jerked her chin at his empty salad bowl. “So, have I made you a fast food convert?”

  “Absolutely not,” he said. “I think the grease in the air is permeating its way into my bones as we speak.”

  She laughed at the distaste and disdain in his voice. “You just wait. It’s like a drug. Now that I’ve dragged you in here once, sometime next week, in the middle of the day, you’ll find yourself craving it.” She leaned forward a bit, “The first time was free, but you’ll have to pay for yourself from now on.” Jade winked at him and felt rewarded when he laughed. She balled up her napkins and tossed them on the tray. “Okay, we better get you out of here before your delicate sensibilities become overwhelmed.”

  Paris folded his paper napkin carefully and placed it precisely on the tray, setting his plastic bowl on top. Jade wanted to take a picture of his pristine pile of garbage next to her mashed up wrappers and condiment packages. She made a move to grab his milkshake and put it on the tray as well but he quickly snatched it out of her reach.

  “I’m not done with it yet,” he said defensively and she held up her hands in surrender, taking the tray and pushing the rest of the garbage into the bin. She tried to hide her smile the whole way out of the restaurant as she watched him cradle his milkshake close, taking another long pull on the straw as they left.

  He’d totally be back within the week.

  *

  Paris sat at the desk in his study and stared at the phone. He had dropped Jade off an hour ago and had been thinking about calling Hannah ever since.

  Sometimes he didn’t know why Hannah had parted ways with the Coven, leaving him in charge, to take a council seat when every time he had a sticky problem he ended up calling her.

  Cursing under his breath, Paris picked up the phone and dialed. He needed her advice, needed her opinion.

  “Hello, Paris.”

  Hannah had been saying his name the same way, with the same tone, for as long as he could remember. Even now, through the phone, over the distance, he was reminded of being a curious boy, watching her and his mother at the kitchen table, working spells, pretending they didn’t notice him spying.

  “Hello, Hannah.”

  “What seems to be bothering you?”

  “Are you using your witchcraft on me?” Paris joked and she laughed.

  “Hardly. I love you dearly but you tend to call only when something is wrong.”

  “That’s not - Hannah…” He protested, feeling all of seven years old suddenly.

  “You can feel bad about it later. Tell me your troubles.”

  Paris sighed, taking comfort in her matter of fact tone. He’d been relying on her since his mother died and turned the Coven over to him. He was too young and it should have gone to Hannah - she was the most powerful witch, the longest-lived of them all, but she’d always steadfastly refused the position. Instead, the Coven had fallen to Paris and at times he felt like he’d been fumbling his way through it ever since.

  “Our new witch, Jade-” He began.

  “Ah yes. Jade. I was wondering when you would call about her,” Hannah said, her voice slightly teasing over the phone.

  “Why? What do you know?”

  “If it were up to you, I wouldn’t know anything. You haven’t called, haven’t emailed, haven’t so much as sent a smoke signal up to tell me about her. Lucky for me, it isn’t up to you.”

  “I still don’t know how you manage to stay so well informed, given the fact that you’re never here.”

  Hannah snorted, a decidedly unladylike sound that he never got used to hearing from her. “I don’t know why you think the entire coven isn’t full of gossips. They’re worse than schoolchildren at times - living in each other’s back pockets and practically on top of one another.”

  “And what are the gossips saying?”

  “A lot of talk about her power. And if Henri were straight, he’d marry her.”

  “I can name at least four other women he feels the same about,” Paris replied.

  “Yes, but this time I think he’s serious,” Hannah said lightly and then she paused. “But as I said, a lot of talk about power.”

  Paris sighed. It was what he called her to talk about so he supposed it was as good a segue as any. “I know. I’m… Worried.”

  Like his mother, Hannah knew when to stay silent and let him gather his thoughts. She didn
’t say anything, waiting patiently until he spoke again.

  “If she decides not to stay, if she wants to leave, I don’t think I can break her magic,” he said finally. “Not without…,” he trailed off, avoiding the potential, tragic truth.

  “Not without killing her,” Hannah finished for him, her words steady and even.

  Paris blew out a breath. “No. Not without killing her. She’s strong, Hannah. Stronger than I expected. Stronger than nearly everyone in the Coven, I think. I don’t know how I would be able to break her magic without killing her.”

  “Does she not like the Coven?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “She just arrived. She seems to like it enough but it’s all still new and impressive.”

  “Has she said anything about not wanting to stay?”

  “No,” he hedged. “Nothing like that. She seems very interested and she’s certainly shown an aptitude for magic. Although frankly, she’s got so much power that it’s like using an axe to cut cake. All she has to do is swing in the general direction and she’s done.” He shifted in his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment tightly. “I don’t even know if I should be the one teaching her.”

  “If anyone can show her how to manage that magnitude of power, along with the measures of control and discipline it takes, it’s you.”

  The confidence in Hannah’s voice scared and calmed him simultaneously. He was humbled by her faith in him.

  She continued, “And if you want to know how she feels about staying, as I’ve been telling you since you were little - when you want to know what someone’s thinking, just ask. You’ll save yourself a world of heartache and uncertainty.”

  “Yes, I know. You’re right,” he said, still feeling seven years old.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” Hannah chided. “You know I’m getting on in my years and I can’t be sure I heard you correctly.”

  “You have better hearing than a bat and we both know it,” Paris said, feeling a rush of warmth when she laughed. “But I will humor you. You are right.”

  “Thank you, dear. Now, on a more serious note, I will make some inquires with some powerful witches in other covens. Although frankly, I don’t hold out much hope. Very few people can match you, and I doubt anyone can equal your conviction or your control. If you can’t break her power without killing her, I don’t know if anyone can.”