Witch's Brew - Spellspinners 1 (Spellspinners of Melas County)

by Heidi R. Kling

  “You have a reasonable explanation for everything,” I grumbled, frustrated and in pain.

  His eyes were wide, earnest. “I swear.”

  I let it drop. I had to take care of this burn. Blowing healing breath on my stinging skin, I watched the burn fade slightly. As if by reflex, Logan clenched his own hand into a fist, but not before I saw the identical black burn mark.

  “Are you okay?” I wanted to blow on his hand too, but it seemed too reckless. What might happen if I soothed a warlock with my charms?

  “Your necklace,” Logan said.

  I lifted my amulet, and then dropped it back to my chest with a shriek. It was white-hot. Fumbling with the chain, I cried, “I can’t get it off!”

  Logan grabbed the chain and ripped it off my neck. I watched, dazed, as he yanked his black T-shirt off over his head. He dropped the amulet into the cotton and tossed the burning bundle onto the ground.

  I fought the flames with a cooling spell, until the shirt was no more than a pile of ashes and cloth; the indigo stone throbbed with whirls of light.

  “My amulet,” I said, more than a little stunned—a shirtless warlock standing next to me—my precious, though before this moment, inactive, heirloom sizzling in the dirt.

  Logan grabbed my arm. “Wait. It’s still too hot.”

  He was so close I could feel his earthy breath on my face. I blinked. “Thanks for helping me with the chain.”

  He reached out and grazed the skin under my blister. “I wish I had something for that. It looks bad.”

  “So does your hand,” I said. He had saved me from the burning amulet; the least I could do was try to ease his pain. I flipped his hand over and lifted his palm to my lips. His face relaxed under my cool breath.

  “Thank you,” he said, meeting my eyes.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You sure you’re okay to drive home? I could…” His sentence trailed off. He’d what? Drop me off at my house and ask Iris to drive him to his secret warlock academy?

  He knew it was beyond ridiculous, too.

  “I’m afraid we better part ways here,” I said, surprised at the sadness catching in my throat.

  “Let me just grab my shirt,” he said.

  I watched the muscles in his back move as he hovered over what was left of his T-shirt. “You never told me your name,” he said, without turning around.

  “It’s Lily.”

  More ink appeared, spreading across his smooth back in a variety of distinguishing patterns.

  Impressive. What was it that caused his ink to rise?

  Did it have something to do with me? The amulet? Both?

  “Well, the shirt is a total loss, but your amulet is okay.”

  “What makes your ink appear?”

  He looked surprised.

  “The markings that were on your arms in the field? Just now, I could see them on your back, too.”

  Looking down, he shrugged again. I could tell it was a personal thing, and I felt rude prying.

  Still, I couldn’t stop staring at the vivid patterns on his muscular arms, at the way his protruding veins moved like black rivers. Some of the markings looked like letters from the Old Language. Some resembled Celtic signs I knew, but these were original art. I wondered what it all meant. Did he know?

  I tried to swallow away the bittersweet pang in my heart when he looked back up at me.

  This was it.

  The next time I saw him would be at the Gleaning. We could be fighting.

  Enemies.

  Where one of us ended up a hero, and the other ended up…

  “Thanks,” I said. “For this. It was…well…”

  Thus far the most fascinating moment of my life? I couldn’t say that.

  “Whatever this was, I’m glad I met you.” Logan backed away slowly, keeping his brilliant eyes locked on mine, his cryptic ink fading away as he put distance between us.

  It would be treason to admit how I felt, that I wanted to hang on to him another moment. So instead, I answered as honestly as I could.

  “It wasn’t too awful meeting you either.” I grinned. “See you in the Stones, then?”

  “If I don’t see you first,” he said.

  I watched until his lanky, magical, perfectly unobtainable silhouette disappeared into the dusk.

  And then I wondered if I was still enchanted. If I was still asleep on that rock. If Logan was only a dream.

  Logan

  Logan snuck into the mansion quietly; he didn’t need a key, the door unlocked for him automatically. But if he were caught coming home after curfew Father wouldn’t be happy. His head was whirling. He could still smell her flower scent. Buzzing all over, he hadn’t felt this way in as long as he could remember.

  Once he ensured Father was asleep he’d try and piece together what happened. Sneak into Father’s library. Do some research?

  Hands tucked into his pockets, he made it up the marble stairs, and past enormous paintings of the Ancients as they hovered over twisted writhing bodies with their medieval weaponry. Logan pretended the torture-art didn’t creep him out, but it did; it had ever since he was little.

  He was just about past Jacob’s room when he heard an angry hiss cursing the air. Stumbling over an arched, hairy back, he fell hard into a velvet frame.

  Stupid cat.

  “It’s not Cleopatra’s fault,” the voice growled. Logan’s stomach lurched. Jacob stood stiff and irritated in his silk night robe.

  “Sorry, Father. I didn’t see her.”

  “Where have you been?” Father asked, his voice like a razor. He picked up the cat and began stroking her fur. “It’s okay, baby girl,” he cooed.

  Logan stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. “Nowhere. I was...just out.”

  “Without a shirt?”

  “I was practicing, it was hot.”

  What was left of Father’s wiry black hair hung limply over shriveled shoulders. Coal-blood eyes bored into Logan’s. “The truth.”

  Logan tugged on the back of his hair and forced his mind quiet.

  “I was practicing weaponry in the forest,” he said, as nonchalantly as possible.

  Grey-streaked eyebrows raised, one higher than the other.

  Keep your mind quiet. “Up in the eucalyptus grove.”

  “You are to stay away from that grove.” Father’s glare pierced Logan’s skin.

  “I was. I am. It’s just a good place to practice.”

  “Open your mouth.”

  “I didn’t chew any…”

  Jacob lunged forward and pried Logan’s mouth open with his thumb. Logan gagged at the pungent taste of his skin, the smell of Jacob’s hot breath. After, Father wiped Logan’s saliva off on the white pressed handkerchief tucked into his robe breast pocket. Fidgeting, Logan couldn’t wait to rinse his mouth.

  “I see you’ve shown restraint,” Father said finally. “Well done.”

  “I told you I didn’t do anything wrong,” Logan said.

  “You’re blocking your thoughts.” Pause. “ You are getting good, Son. Maybe too good. You didn’t leave our boundaries, did you?”

  Logan painted a picture of the coastal redwoods in his mind: walking alone, swinging his shinai through misty trees. Father’s face calmed. The deception was working. But then the pain started again. Dull at first, and then sharper. He felt the pinch of metal claws.

  Logan’s eyes watered, but there was no way he was going to cry. As a young boy, the humiliating pain would have broken his concentration, but those days were over. Long over. He couldn’t let Father’s spell break him.

  “I never left the boundaries,” Logan said, firmly.

  And suddenly, just as quick as the venom appeared, a still washed over Father’s face. It had worked. “Well, get to bed then, off with you,” he said in a crisp but loving voice. “We have a big day tomorrow. Solstice Stones is on the horizon. It means everything, Logan.”

  Logan’s body flooded with relief. Father was right
. Logan was getting good.

  “Yes, Father.”

  Father turned toward the double doors, but then stopped and slowly pointed his nose into the air.

  “Do you smell flowers?”

  Logan’s stomach lurched. “No.”

  Father sniffed the air again. “It smells like the wedding hall of an over-eager bride.”

  Logan sniffed the air too, playing along. “Now that you mention it, there were some wildflowers in the grove today. Maybe they rubbed off on my clothes.”

  Fiercely, Jacob shook his head, as if the very thought of flowers pained him to the core. “Take a hot shower and scrub that stench off you immediately!” Burying his nose in his sleeve, he slipped into his bedroom, leaving Logan alone in the hallway.

  Logan winced as the door slammed. But he was finally able to breathe.

  Lily

  If I don’t see you first.

  The warlock’s voice—his eyes—in my head. This was the seventh time in as many days that I’d woken up to Logan. But a different—darker—version of him than I’d seen in real life. This nightmare version of him had wicked red eyes, and sharp teeth. He was the warlock of my fears, not the practically human boy I’d met on the hill, who’d walked me off the mountain to protect me.

  Splashing water on my face, I tried to clear my mind of his image. I hadn’t told a soul about meeting him. And the weight of the secret was crushing. The only thing that made me forget, temporarily, was training.

  I pulled on a pair of black yoga pants and tucked a messy knot of hair into the hood of my black sweatshirt. Barely glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I headed downstairs, grabbed a protein shake and the daily elixir boost out of the fridge and slipped out the door.

  First came the run up Seagull Beach. I bent over, stretched, and touched my purple painted toes. Lifting my arms to the sky, I raised my chest. Inhaled.

  Then I took off.

  Slowly at first, and then faster and faster, I didn’t have to look back to know sprays of sand flew into the air as fast as my bare feet pounded the ground. I ran faster than a human girl ever could. Faster than any witch could. Faster than I ever had before.

  And I was hardly winded.

  Maybe that whiff of euca leaves up near Black Mountain was all I needed to get my mojo back?

  Whatever it was, this was why we ran at 5 a.m. when no one except the seagulls could witness our magic.

  Five miles zipped by in minutes.

  When I saw the cliffs looming in the distance, I slowed down. Impressive red rock cliffs enclosed the circle with its half-moon shape, keeping guard over the coven. Half-Moon Cove. A place where the magnetic air tingled—a suspected Vortex among New Agey humans, known for its gravitational anomalies, like plants growing the wrong way, and strange tides. Like the ring of Solstice Stones on the warlock property, the Spellspinners of Melas County understood Half-Moon Cove as a magical Vortex—a portal or gateway—to other dimensions.

  From the other side of the cliffs, I heard quiet lilting female voices. Breathing in sweet scents of honeysuckle, orchid, violet, I waited until the tide washed out before leaping from sea stone to sea stone and sprinting into the circle. I made it around the bend as frothy waves crashed down behind me.

  Maybe I was better.

  With a burst of confidence, I fell into my assigned place in the circle. As Leader, I stood opposite my Mistress, while the other girls filled the spaces between us. I didn’t have to glance at a watch to know I was right on time.

  When Camellia nodded in my direction, I took note of her indigo eyes, the thick dark ringlets piled on top of her head like a twisted crown. Camellia was Mistress of the Light, and didn’t need to remind anyone she was our queen.

  “Good morning, Daughters of Light,” Camellia said, glancing at each of us.

  “Good morning, Mistress,” we said in unison.

  The sun, just starting to peek up over the ocean, turned the sky a vibrant mix of cotton candy and citrus. I hoped today would be a sparring day. There was nothing I liked more than a tangle with a sassy witch. Well, before last week anyway. When I’d tangled with a…I emptied my mind. Focus, Lily.

  “Girls, your energy this morning is much. I applaud that. But we must be careful how we channel it. If all your body wants is fight—conflict—then you aren’t using your energy as it’s intended.”

  Beside me, Orchid raised her hand. “Then why does my body feel like a fight?” she challenged, dancing on the balls of her bare feet. Orchid’s dreadlocked hair hung to her stomach, exposed by the tight half-shirt she was wearing. Her glimmering blue eyes made her look even cooler in the pre-dawn light.

  “Your bodies don’t want to fight, your bodies crave more magic and therefore your bodies want to engage,” Camellia continued. “Think of the baby tigers on the Savannah. Picture them tumbling around with their brothers and sisters. They don’t want to hurt each other—they want to connect. To explore each other’s bodies—to get a taste of one another’s spirits. They are learning to hunt. It’s the same with humans. Look what they are doing now. Networking electronically nearly constantly. Humans crave connection, especially young humans so raw, so eager to take a bite of the experience of life. This need to connect is so great that they engage in unnecessary battles just in order to get a taste of what we, as Spellspinners, are so lucky to explore each day.”

  “As Spellspinners, don’t we have that same need?” I asked. “To connect, I mean.”

  “Of course, but our needs are met within our coven. We have each other; we have risen above the human experience. We are complete.”

  “If we are complete, why do we need to glean magic from the warlocks?” I asked. “The whole point is we aren’t complete without them. We need their magic to balance ours.”

  She stared at me, surprised, but she answered calmly, “We are complete beings without warlocks, indeed. But unfortunately, after the curse, our magic must be replenished with theirs.”

  “So we aren’t really playing like baby tigers in the Savannah, then, Mistress. Pardon me, but we are preparing to fight for our lives here.”

  Camellia blinked. “True. The stakes are high in this Gleaning. We have much to lose but also much to gain. I want you girls to be as prepared as possible.”

  Orchid nodded. “I’m ready,” she said.

  Camellia smiled. “Excellent. That’s what I want to hear. What the Goddesses want to hear.” She clapped her hands. “Partner up, girls. This morning we are going to practice energy balls,” she announced.

  “Awesome.” I rubbed my palms together.

  “Ensure that the receiving witch is standing in the ocean. And tread lightly in this exercise. Energy balls are essentially balls of fire. You’ll use them when your swords are displaced. The faster you can conjure one into existence, the safer you will be. Focus on controlling the energy. Here you have all the space you need. In the Stones, everything will be tighter, moving faster. Ready?”

  Orchid and I clasped hands. “I’ll receive,” I said.

  “Generous this morning, are we?” Orchid said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Hey, what are friends for?” My adrenaline boost and rebounded energy had put me in an excellent mood. Maybe I didn’t need those euca leaves after all; maybe the scent of them was enough.

  Camellia paced barefoot in the wet sand, watching us. I waded in knee-high water while Orchid created an energy ball, which looked like she was doing a pantomime of rocking a globe between her palms. When it sparked to life, she tossed it out to sea. I dove into the air and snatched it out of the sky. It sizzled into my palms and gut, as I fell backwards into the saltwater.

  “Nice!” Orchid shouted.

  “Thanks.” I grinned, bouncing easily back on my feet in the thrashing waves.

  “Stretch it out, make it bigger,” Orchid suggested.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I spun a spell that lifted the beads of saltwater from my eyes and face like a string of pearls and evaporated into the air.


  “Cool,” Orchid said, watching them float away.

  “Thanks.” I grinned widely. Everything worked better in the water.

  Golden electric circuits danced between my palms as I created a new orb. Bigger, and more powerful than anything I’d created before. The ball glowed in my hands like a miniature star.

  “Ready?”

  Orchid braced herself, eyeing the ball. I reached over my shoulder and threw it as hard as I could. It whizzed over Orchid’s shoulder, zipped through the air and slammed into the cliff. We heard a rumble. Soft and then louder. I watched in disbelief as a dump truck’s worth of red clay crumbled to the sand below. “Avalanche! Girls, look out!”

  We scurried for safety.

  Camellia raised her arms, channeling the sun’s energy. Fingers glowing with magic, she sent the energy back toward the avalanche; soon the red clay clods scurried back together and crawled back up the cliff like an army of red ants. As if nothing had ever happened.

  But we all knew something had.

  My Mistress looked at me with flashing indigo eyes. “Lily. I’d like to speak with you after practice.”

  I nodded.

  “Privately,” she said.

  Logan

  Logan awoke with an aching head.

  It had been a fitful night dreaming of a witch called Lily. Every evening since he first saw her, he snuck back to the grove to look for her, but so far hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse.

  But he did have her stone. And it was affecting him in ways he didn’t understand yet. He was seeing things, thinking about his past, and wondering things about warlock mythology that had never occurred to him before. It was as if he was slowly waking up from a daze.

  The witch’s amulet lay cool in his palm, indigo light creating a rainbow of purples on his ceiling. The one so similar to his, the one Logan had worn since he landed on the steps of the Warlock Academy when he was about four years old. No one knew his exact age. He came with no birth certificate, no letter, and no clue as to his true identity.

  The only clue was the stone around his neck.

  Father took him in, he claimed, not knowing if Logan would be talented in the dark arts; five was the age when warlocks exhibited whether they possessed magical instincts. Fearing Father’s oversensitive temper, Logan had never dared look into his natural origin as he adapted to life at the Academy.