Speak (Witches & Warlocks Book 1)

by R. M. Webb

  If I felt sick before, I feel like I’m dying now. My senses light on fire and I can see and hear and feel everything in my room all at once. The fabric of my clothes brushing my skin, the blood rushing in my veins, the oxygen being sucked into my lungs, making me lightheaded. The clothes slinking half in, half out of my laundry basket, the open drawer where my journal normally lives. Cars pulling in and out of the parking lot.

  I pace, a tiger caged. You’ve got to wake up. I don’t have a single clue how to do that.

  I think, if I could, I really would hop in my car and disappear. Just throw a bag of clothes in the trunk and drive until I feel safe and never think of this day again for as long as I live. Thing is, I can’t. I’m trapped in my room and so I have no choice but to face whatever it is that’s coming my way. I’m going to have to calm myself down and figure out a plan. On my own. No seeing-eye dog for me because it turns out she was a snake the whole time.

  The nervous energy has my mind flickering from thought to thought, incoherent and incomplete. I don’t even have a framework for how to begin processing all this. It’s so far outside what I know to be normal. The cell phone beckons me from its place on my bedside table, and I’m distracted by a nearly all-encompassing need to reach out to Luke. He’ll know what to do. He’ll tell me how to make sense of this.

  I’m safe with Luke. I can relax.

  Except those thoughts feel foreign and I don’t think they’re mine and suddenly I feel the total opposite of safe and relaxed. Ok, so Luke is off the table. It’s more than likely that I’m under some sort of, I don’t know, spell? Is that the word? I guess it’s the only word that really applies. Anyway, I guess I’m under some sort of spell that makes me feel better about being around Luke.

  Great. And here I thought I’d found someone who understood me. Turns out I don’t even understand myself. I just kind of sit and spin my mental wheels, remembering little blips of things people have said, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in a way that makes some kind of sense.

  You’re stronger than you know.

  Both Noah and Luke said that to me. Maybe Luke was trying to tell me something? Warn me? Let’s just say for a second that he was hired by Carter and Becca to pretend to date me, to help keep me from knowing whatever it is that I am. That doesn’t sound like something someone would say if he was trying to hide the truth from me. It actually sounds more like something someone would say if he were trying to help me discover the truth.

  As if on cue, my cell phone vibrates on the table, alerting me to an incoming text from Luke. I slide my finger across the screen to unlock it and read the text:

  I’m so sorry you’re sick, babe. You ok?

  Without hesitating, I type out my reply:

  I’m fine. I’m stronger than you know.

  Maybe, just maybe, he’ll read between the words and know what I’m saying. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll give me some glimmer of hope, some dose of information that I can use to understand what’s going on. My phone buzzes again and I try to puzzle out his reply:

  You’re the strongest person I’ve met. You’ll get through this.

  Talk about cryptic. If I take what he’s saying at face value, then it’s just my boyfriend being supportive, acknowledging that I’m sick and trying to make me feel better. If I try to look deeper into what he’s saying, well, it could mean anything and it offers absolutely no help at all. I throw the phone onto the bed in frustration just in time to see another text come in from Luke. I snatch it up and devour his words:

  I’d do anything to help. I’m sure you have lots of people who could come to your rescue if you reached out.

  Now that right there is strange. Luke knows how small my world is. He knows that I have him and Becca and that’s pretty much it. That’s gotta mean that he’s trying to tell me something.

  And then one more text:

  Carter found your journal. Small world, huh? Now you do what you need to take care of yourself and I’ll see you when you’re ready.

  Ok. Shit. So Luke’s clearly on my side, whatever that means. Of course I already knew that Carter had my journal so that’s no big news in and of itself. The fact that Luke wanted me to know about Carter having my journal? That’s huge. He’s warning me. I wonder if he put himself in any danger by sending those texts. Will Carter find them and see them for what they are? Who the hell is Carter anyway? Just what, exactly, am I dealing with here?

  Somehow, knowing that I at least have Luke on my side — big, strong, handsome Luke — is reassuring. And, you know, knowing that even if he did start out dating me because it was part of his job or whatever, that now I might actually be worth something to him, well that feels good, too. For a split second I wonder if he’s just feeling sorry for me but I refuse to think about that too hard.

  A memory hits me like a freight train. Luke and I sitting together at Flannigan’s, his hand on mine as he spoke some very important words to me: “You’re safe with me. You can relax.” And that’s exactly what I did. From that point forward, I’ve felt safe and relaxed with Luke. The bastard put a spell on me! That’s … well, that’s something I’m going to have to think about later. I’ve got more important things to deal with right now. You know, like, I’m stuck in my room and a bunch of evil witches are meeting to decide my fate.

  That’s when I start laughing. It’s all just so ridiculous and so scary and words like witches and spell are so unnerving now that they mean something. And words like remnant, well, that doesn’t really mean anything, but that’s enough to give me chills. I plop down on my bed and laugh until I cry and then I cry until I think of Becca. Who knows how much time I have before she shows back up, cavalry in tow? However much time I had, I have less now because I wasted a lot feeling sorry for myself.

  I take a breath. I let it out. I need help. Maybe, if Noah was able to reach out to me, I can reach out to him. I think that’s what Luke was trying to tell me to do. Luke, my boyfriend, the bastard who tricked me into falling for him…

  Whatever. Now’s not the time to worry about that. Even this evening, Noah told me that if I reached out to him, I could help strengthen the connection. And then I did. He, like, popped out of existence, I reached for him, and there he was.

  I close my eyes and I focus on Noah. His eyes, his hair, his great ass in his perfect jeans. Can’t help but feel a little twinge of guilt at that last thought. And then I think of Luke and feel even worse, this awful mix of anger and happiness. Even if the guy did spell me into falling for him, maybe it was just that one time. Maybe I fell the rest of the way as we sat on the couch and talked about everything and nothing and talked shit to each other as we mashed buttons on controllers.

  Damn it. I’m not supposed to be concentrating on Luke. I’m supposed to be looking for Noah. I turn my thoughts away from my so-called boyfriend and back to Noah, but not before I feel this kind of sinking feeling, this little flare of something, and Luke’s, what? Presence? He kind of blazes into existence in my head and then recedes back into my sub-conscious.

  That flare is exactly the feeling I’ve been looking for. I focus on that and I send it out towards Noah, like I’m driving a remote controlled hovercraft. Like, the flare of energy originated in me and I think hard enough to bring it out of me and then drive it out towards Noah. Thing is, I think he was waiting for me because even though I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m like, pulled right to him.

  He’s sitting in what must be his living room, wearing those perfect jeans and a wry smile. “Hey, Zoe,” he says and I don’t know if I’m more scared or excited by what I’ve done.

  Chapter 15

  When I open my eyes, it’s really weird. It’s like Noah’s living room is superimposed on my bedroom. His stuff has that golden glow, that vapory, otherworld feel, and I can see all of my stuff through his. Noah’s right in front of me, sitting on his couch, while I stare at him from where I sit on my bed.

  “You, know,” he says. “When I said we were going to d
o this at your speed, this isn’t at all what I had in mind.”

  I’m not the least bit in the mood for jokes right now. “What the hell is going on?”

  The look on Noah’s face is all the apology I need. “Ya, it’s got to be confusing and stressful.”

  “To say the least.” Panic strums its way through my body and I stand and pace. Nerves have control of my tongue and for the first time in my life I just blabber on without thinking, just stacking nonsense on top of nonsense. I tell him about the flowers and the coffee shop and I know my words aren’t lining up really pretty, but he’s just going to have to deal with it because they can’t live in my head anymore.

  “Zoe.” Noah waits until I shut up, stop pacing, and look at him before he continues. “Sit down.” All the playfulness has left his voice and what’s left is authority. I do as I’m told. “You’re going to have to take a few leaps of faith here and assume that I know enough to take care of you. Please, tell me what happened after I spoke to you in the park.”

  The authority in his voice has a kind of calming effect on me. Now, instead of being alone and confused and scared out of my mind, I have a task to accomplish and someone who’s able to help. As quickly as I can, I tell him about leaving the park, about the strange girl I saw, and the boys who walked right through her and knocked me to the ground.

  “I think I heard Becca call her a remnant…?”

  Surprise parts Noah’s lips. “Hollow or light?” There’s desperation in the question and I have no idea what he’s asking?

  “Huh?”

  “The remnant,” and the way he says it sends chills down my spine, “was it hollow or light?” I start to shrug. The words he’s using are words I know, they just make absolutely no sense in the context of our conversation. Noah swallows in exasperation. “Her eyes, were they dark, like night but worse, or were they more like autumn sunshine?”

  I shiver. “They were darker than anything I’d ever seen.” The word hollow suddenly makes a hell of a lot of sense.

  “Shit. A hollow. Of course the first remnant you see is hollow.” He sees the question I’m about to ask and hurries on. “We’ll get to it, I promise. But first, tell me what else happened.”

  Again, I do as I’m told, a good little soldier following her orders. I tell him about coming home and being sick, about Becca and the phone call, the lost journal.

  “Did you write anything important inside?”

  “No. I mean, yes. It’s my journal. It’s filled with all kinds of embarrassing stuff.”

  “But anything about what’s going on?”

  Honestly, I have no idea what I wrote. I remember doodling and leaving a word out of a sentence that made it look strange but that’s about all and I tell him as much. If I’d known every last detail of my life was going to be important, I might have paid better attention. He seems marginally pacified by that and asks me to continue. When I tell him about the drowsiness seeping from Becca’s fingers, his jaw tenses, but when I tell him about the dark purple cloud that crept through the cracks of my door and sealed me in this room, his jaw drops.

  “You’re trapped there?”

  “Yes! Why else do you think I reached out? I’m terrified!”

  “Shit, Zoe. Where did she go? How long til she comes back?”

  “I don’t know, I think she went to Carter’s —”

  “Carter? She’s with Carter? Like piercings and dark and broody Carter?”

  “Ya, he’s been here a lot lately.” For some reason, I don’t mention Luke.

  “And Carter has your journal?”

  “Yes.”

  Now it’s Noah who’s pacing. The whole picture is jittering with the force of his emotions. “Look, I’m going to do my best to explain what’s going on as I head over to you. Hopefully, I’ll beat Becca there.” As he starts to move, the superimposed image of his surroundings fade. Sweat is beading on my forehead and over my top lip. Apparently, it’s much harder to maintain this contact than I thought. “Hey, listen,” says Noah, “You have your cell phone? It’d be way easier if I could just call you.”

  I don’t know how, but that one statement is enough to completely calm me down. Maybe it’s the mundane task of giving Noah my number, or maybe it’s the act of dropping the magic act and moving onto more familiar territory … whatever the reason, with my phone pressed to my ear and Noah on the other end, I feel like I can actually process the things he’s saying to me. Which is a good thing ‘cause what he’s saying is crazy.

  “Ok, here’s what you need to know. I’m just going to dump a lot of information on you while I drive and you’re just going to have to keep up and try not to ask too many questions, ok?”

  I murmur something that sounds affirmative and Noah continues.

  “You know all the books where there’s this secret, magical world that operates underneath human society? Well, that’s pretty much the way it works. We — you and me and Becca and Carter — are all witches. Well, you girlies are witches and Carter and I are badass warlocks. Our society is broken into covens, basically like clubs or houses that we join based on the type of magic we use. Some of us — the lucky ones — are born with familiars, spirit animals that help to channel and strengthen our magic. You’re one of those lucky ones. I could see it the day I met you. But your familiar is locked inside you, begging to get out, trapped inside you with your magic.” He pauses, distracted by something on the road. “Anyway,” he says after several seconds of me counting my own heartbeats, “our familiars help to decide what coven we join as well. For example, Becca and Carter are members of the same coven — and Carter is very far up the food chain there. Their magic verges on dark magic. If they had a familiar, it’d be a reptile of some sort — a snake, a chameleon…”

  Oh, shit, my dream. Tigers being devoured by snakes. “I saw your familiar when you appeared to me at the park. A tiger.” Does my dream mean that Becca and Carter are going to destroy Noah?

  “That’s right. Zoe? It’s important to answer truthfully. Do you know what your familiar is?” There’s tension in his voice, like he’s holding his breath, waiting for my answer.

  “I think it’s a tiger, too. I mean, at least that’s what I’m assuming. I’ve always said I had a tiger inside, locked behind my shyness. I just never thought that meant it was a literal tiger.”

  Noah releases his breath. “Ok. That’s good. Especially given that your first remnant was hollow.”

  “What’s a remnant?”

  There’s just the smallest moment of silence and I can actually hear his turn signal clicking away over the phone. This time, the mundane sound wrapped around this strange conversation is starting to freak me out. Chills race down my skin, raising goosebumps on my arms.

  “Remnants are the spirits of magical creatures, left behind once they die. So a witch or a vampire or something like that—”

  “Vampire?” I think I just shrieked. My voice is all tight and squeaky.

  “You’re gonna have to roll with me here, Zoe. Like I said, there’s a whole magical society that lives beneath human society.” His words kind of reverberate through my skull. Things like magical society causing my heart to speed up and things like human society causing my stomach to drop when I realize that I’m probably not considered part of human society.

  “What else is there?”

  “I’ll get to that. One thing at a time. So. Remnants. Spirits of dead magical creatures. Depending on what kind of life the creature lived, you know, good or bad, right or wrong, happy or sad, these people may or may not hang around as remnants. They turn hollow if they lived poorly and light if they lived right. Human society sees ‘em sometimes, but they call them angels or demons.”

  So I was right when I called the girl a demon and right when I called her a ghost. “So what’s it mean that my first remnant was hollow?”

  Noah hesitates. “I don’t think it means anything.”

  “You certainly didn’t sound like it didn’t mean anything. You s
ounded like it mattered a lot that my first remnant was hollow.”

  There’s another pause, another sigh. “I guess it’s not important enough to matter right now. Racing Becca to save you, remember?”

  Somehow, I’m not really satisfied by that answer, but I guess I’ll roll with it. I mutter another affirmation and Noah continues.

  “So, the first time I saw you, I could tell you had magic. But when I touched you,” Noah pauses and I hear another turn signal flicking away, “I actually felt your magic just boiling beneath your surface. It was … churning. Stuck. You know how rushing water surges against a dam? It felt like that. Only with water, eventually the river would rush over the dam. With you, it was like the dam got bigger the more your magic pressed against it. I could tell you were spelled. Your magic isn’t dormant, it’s being held back. Not only that, but you had a spell on you that made you less noticeable, less likely for people to see you and remember you, and you’d been spelled to prefer not to speak. Someone really wanted you out of the game.”

  My heart’s literally racing. What he’s saying makes so much sense even though it makes absolutely no sense at all. My skeptic’s brain is trying very hard to dismiss everything I just heard, but my heart hears the truth and I see my entire life in his explanation. How I’ve always felt like something was blocking my words. How I’ve always felt stuck behind my introversion. How no one else understood my need to be part of groups and try to participate coupled with my complete inability to actually participate.

  “I couldn’t figure it out at first. Why would someone have spelled you? Why would your magic be made dormant? I mean, Becca’s coven can be kind of shady, they like to stretch the concept of morality, but they’re not actually bad, like evil bad. And with your familiar being a tiger they should have just left you alone. It’s clear where you belong.” Noah pauses for a moment before continuing. “It is a tiger, right Zoe? You have no doubt?”