Magically Bonded

by Rachel Medhurst

  “We better go,” Maxwell announced, also anxious to get on with our meeting.

  Justina tried to urge Kurt to come with us, but he wouldn’t budge. “You go on without me. I’ll go with them.”

  I bit my lip as I realised that Kurt Fielding, the bluntest person I knew, was actually a healer. The kindness he was showing his patients made my heart soften towards him. I had no idea who he was, not really. And, yet, something told me that he had a story to tell. One that I wanted to hear one day.

  “Come on.” Gerard tugged my arm, forcing me to cross the street with him.

  The others joined us, leaving Kurt behind to deal with the ambulance and police. We would have to move our meeting to somewhere other than the shop. The police had a habit of doing door to door investigations.

  “Hold tight,” Justina said to Maxwell as she took his arm. “Let’s go to Hyde Park.”

  Gerard flashed us both to a lake in one of London’s most famous parks. It was habit for him to transport me at the same time. I didn’t know if I was capable of transporting myself, but it was nice of him to think of me. Although, wasn’t that a bit presumptuous? Not to allow me to try? Okay, it wasn’t the right time to get on my high horse.

  The birds sang in the trees behind me. I allowed their sweet song to filter through me as Justina and Maxwell landed in front of us. It was a weekday, with only dog walkers and a few tourists dotted around the park.

  “Well,” Maxwell said as he straightened his bright orange shirt. “I wasn’t expecting all the drama. I would’ve worn better shoes.”

  Glancing at his Crocs, I stifled a giggle under my hand. The mud squelched under them. Trust Maxwell to wear the most inconvenient shoes ever.

  Justina checked around us to make sure there was no one in hearing range. The park was where we’d encountered Theresa and her coven. It was well past their meeting time, but a twinge of guilt somehow found its way into my chest. My mother had been best friends with the woman. Surely, I shouldn’t be so pleased that Gerard had killed her slimy sidekick?

  “Are we here to perform the swap over of leadership?” Maxwell asked.

  Oh crap. I hadn’t mentioned to Maxwell that I was kind of scatter-brained. Although, he should already know that.

  “I may have forgotten the spell,” I muttered, trying not to laugh when his double chin wobbled.

  “Then what is this all about?”

  There would be a time when I wasn’t in a war with Maxwell. I had declared that he could have the leadership, and promptly forgotten all about it in my drama filled life. Ugh. I needed to get a grip.

  Justina stood back, waiting for me to talk. I was technically still leader, so I could see exactly why she wanted the burden to fall on me. Sneaky boss.

  “Maxwell,” I started, glancing at Gerard. He raised his eyebrows, but offered no support.

  “Yes?”

  Clearing my throat, I started again. “Maxwell, we overheard a meeting at your shop the other day.”

  The frown that furrowed his brow wasn’t a good sign. It wasn’t a curious frown; it was a furious one. “And, what were you doing at my shop? I don’t remember you visiting.”

  This wasn’t going well. For some reason, my puny brain had imagined that Maxwell would listen to me. What a very silly thing to think.

  “Long story short, some of your warlocks tried to rob me. We followed them to your shop. They were having a meeting with others of your kind… and a couple of witches.”

  “Witches? In my shop? I doubt that somehow.” His chin moved more ferociously as his ire built.

  Gerard tucked his hands in his pocket as he coughed. “Actually, I was with Devon. There were definitely witches in your shop.”

  Good. It was about time someone backed me up. Although, from the glare aimed at my partner, it hadn’t helped Maxwell’s temper.

  “Anyway, the reason we’re telling you is because they’re planning something quite outrageous, to be honest.”

  Stepping up when Maxwell crossed his arms over his rotund belly, Justina raised her hand. “Get to the point, Devon.”

  “The warlocks want to impregnate the witches. They’re going to build their own little flock of half-breeds, just like me.”

  If Maxwell had a spirit guide, it would be a puffa fish. His mouth opened and closed as his cheeks grew red. Why was his reaction so hostile? We were telling him the truth.

  “Don’t be so absurd! My kind would never do anything so stupid, except for your father of course.”

  Clenching my fists to my sides, I evened my breath. I had to stay calm, even if the bastard had just insulted my family. Maybe one punch to the gut would suffice?

  “I’m sick of you finding excuses not to hand over the leadership. You’re a disgusting little creature who should’ve been put down at birth.”

  I grabbed Gerard’s arm as he went to move forward. He’d already killed one witch on my behalf, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  “We’re telling the truth,” Justina said, pulling out her formal badge. “I’m here on business with Devon.”

  Waving her away, Maxwell focused on me. His dark eyes bulged out of his head. I understood why he might find me irritating. I often irritated myself. But, he had to believe that I wasn’t lying. Why would I make up something so…weird?

  “I’ve had enough of you.” Lifting his hand, Maxwell sent a stream of dark blue magic towards me.

  Pushing Gerard out of the way when he tried to shield me, I held up both hands and muttered a barrier spell.

  The magic bashed into the invisible wall, dispersing on contact. I almost cried out in triumph, pleased that my witch magic had held. It had been so long since it had worked so well.

  “Stop!” I ordered Maxwell.

  He ignored me, his breath puffing as he formed a ball and sent it flying towards Justina. She ducked, dodging it just in time.

  Ripping out my dagger from my boot, I aimed it towards him. My eyes widened when flames of warlock magic that I hadn’t ignited coated the blade. Ah, no, I couldn’t throw that, it would kill him.

  “Maxwell,” I shouted, quickly glancing at Gerard and Justina. They both nodded, knowing exactly what I was thinking. “Until we meet again.”

  Flashing out of Hyde Park, all three of us landed behind the agency building. I almost fell over as my dagger clattered to the floor. Okay, the barrier spell had taken some of my power. I had to be careful.

  Gerard went to pick up my weapon, only to drop it instantly. I couldn’t hide my smile as Justina marched through the back door, leaving us alone. Scooping it up, I tucked my dagger away.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked my partner. “Can’t handle me anymore?”

  His face turned sombre as he looked down at his blistered arm. “It’s not you I’m worried about right now. The underworld seems to be falling apart.”

  Leaving me to stand on my own, Gerard slunk inside. Sighing, I dropped my head back and looked up at the sky. Maxwell had overreacted. Or, had he?

  Great. I had a feeling that Handsome Debbie Mac-downer might be right. The witch and warlock war was starting to spiral out of control.

  Chapter Seven

  Checking over my shoulder every five seconds, I counted my footsteps as I wandered towards our meeting place. When I had got home last night, I had snuggled Kingsley as I thought about what had happened.

  Maxwell had to take over the leadership. Now. At least that way, if anything happened to the coven, it wouldn’t fall on my shoulders. It might seem selfish, but if he wasn’t going to believe me when I warned him about the danger they were in, well, there wasn’t much I could do about it.

  I looked over my shoulder again, just to make sure Gerard wasn’t lurking somewhere. Not that he would be. He had no idea that I had arranged a private meeting.

  “Woah!” a male voice said as I ploughed into someone.

  Mumbling an apology, I looked up at the human’s face. He was clean shaven, his eyes twinkling in the sunlight. He
had a dog who nudged my leg with its nose. Bending down, I stroked its head, laughing when it licked my face.

  “He’s such a tart,” the man said, offering his hand to help me to stand.

  Taking it, I almost fell into him again as I jumped up. His pretty eyes were making me all giddy. That wasn’t right. I was Miss Tough Girl. I shouldn’t be getting all gooey eyed over a human.

  “I’m Chris. What’s your name?”

  Ah, Chris. Such a human name. Such a human male. Every now and then, I wished I was normal. Being chatted up by someone who didn’t have sharp teeth, or magic, or could shift into an animal… it was a relief.

  About to open my mouth to reply, I stopped when my phone started to ring. My fairy tale human romance was abruptly ended when the theme tune of a classic, but quite modern, male strip film blared out. So embarrassing.

  “I better go.” My quick escape was regretful, especially as the lovely man and his dog watched after me.

  “I’m almost there,” I barked down the phone when I answered it.

  Maxwell’s chuckle was deep and extremely irritating. “Just wanted to check that you weren’t getting cold feet, Little Missy.”

  His condescending tone made my blood boil. But, it was okay. I’d flaked out on him several times before. Not today.

  “I can see your ugly arse now.” My laugh was met with a growl.

  His arse was currently standing outside a transport museum. Apparently, he was friends with the curator. He had often hired a room out for meetings.

  “Well, hello there,” he greeted me as I joined him.

  Not bothering to acknowledge him, I went straight through the doors. There were a few people scattered around the place, checking out old cars and bits of trains. Very boring.

  “I see you don’t appreciate history.” He walked beside me, leading me to a side door.

  My palms started to tingle as I thought about the morning ahead of us. The other agents would be pissed at me for not including them, but their presence would only make matters worse.

  Going through the door that Maxwell indicated, I paused when I got inside the room. My lips pressed together as I studied the layout. There were desks around the outside of the room, obviously Maxwell had dragged them away from the centre.

  “I love history,” I muttered. “Just not transport.”

  A symbol I didn’t recognise was on the ground. Earth and salt had been mixed and spread out to create it. What was Maxwell doing?

  Coming in behind me, he closed the door and locked it. My fingers itched to drag up some magic and threaten him.

  “You look confused?”

  His long fingers reached up to wipe a line of sweat away from his forehead. The orange jacket he wore was short sleeved, revealing his tanned skin.

  “What is this?” My defence mode was trying desperately to take over. I had to stay calm.

  Frowning, Maxwell moved to stand beside the symbol. Tilting his head to the side, he watched me. “You’ve never seen this?”

  Slowly shaking my head, I waited for the obvious to become…well, obvious. No, I hadn’t ever seen it, but something told me that I should know exactly what it was.

  Sighing, Maxwell gestured to one of the plastic chairs. “I’ll give you a little history lesson on our coven while you’re here.”

  Er… really? I didn’t exactly have time for learning. Plus, why did it matter when I wasn’t going to be a warlock anyway?

  Grabbing a chair, I turned it towards me and sat on it, leaning my arms on the back. I didn’t want to get too comfortable. I hadn’t planned on staying more than an hour. By that time, Gerard might think about looking for me. I was already a little late for work as it was.

  “Isaac Senior was our leader from the age of eighteen. His grandfather was the founder of the coven, along with your great, great grandfather.” Going over to a table, Maxwell rested against it. “They were best friends. They’d had enough of warlocks getting a bad rap because of their evil qualities. So, they decided to form a new coven and create a new warlock. They’re the ones who live in London today.”

  My stomach churned. I had killed the descendent of my great, great grandfather’s best friend. Ah, shit, no wonder my life was doomed. My ancestors probably hated me.

  “Go on,” I said, genuinely interested.

  Clearing his throat, Maxwell put a hand on his round stomach. “They created this coat of arms for the coven. It’s called Emendatus. It’s the Latin word meaning reformed. They vowed to make amends for the evil that the warlocks had brought into the world.”

  Biting my lip, I frowned as I stared at the earth on the carpet. It would be a bitch to hoover up. However, one thing was bugging me.

  “Wait. If they were so reformed, why do they still use the impure magic from the earth?”

  Chewing the side of his cheek, Maxwell looked down at the ground. “When your ancestor and his friend tried to tap into the pure magic of the earth, they couldn’t. The witches had claimed full ownership. Mother Earth had balanced herself by allowing witches to have pure, warlocks to have dark.”

  Woah, that wasn’t something I had known. But, surely that meant that all warlocks would be forever evil?

  “To answer the question that’s running through your mind, yes… we do have evil in us. However, as you know, our code of law is so strict, we’ve trained ourselves to no longer give in to the temptation of the bad energy.”

  Maxwell stood, gesturing for me to go nearer. Getting to my feet, I almost froze when he waved his hand and a line of blue flames ran around the symbol. It was a simple circle with several lines running through it. Not like the pentagram, but not far off either.

  “You need to stand in the circle and renounce your claim to the warlock title. I have a camera set up here.” He went over to where his phone was on a stand. “That way, no one can dispute that the switch has happened.”

  “Why did Isaac choose you as the next heir?”

  I had never thought to ask. It was obvious that I would be next in line, considering my ancestor created the new coven with Isaac’s ancestor. But, where did Maxwell fit into it?

  “My grandfather was the first warlock to ever sacrifice himself for his coven. He was so invested in the new way of being a warlock, he resisted his evil urges when it came to a life or death situation. As you know, not many of us do that. Even now.”

  Nodding, I stood next to Maxwell, not quite ready to step into the circle. “So, his ancestors became the third in line. Okay.”

  Laughing, Maxwell nudged me in the ribs. “No need to be so serious. You’ve never wanted to lead the coven. You’re too much of a free spirit.”

  Sighing, I looked at him, seeing a man who was arrogant, smarmy, but also intelligent. I’d heard brilliant things about him before Isaac had been killed. I had to give him credit. He was probably grieving the man who had taught him…us…everything.

  “I… I convinced myself that I wanted to become a full witch. The idea of losing my warlock magic, it frightens me.”

  His expression clouded, a confused look crossing his face. “Why would you need to become a full witch?”

  Sucking air into my lungs, I faced him. It was time to be honest with him. Hopefully, just hopefully, my plan would work.

  “You’ve known me as a kickass half-breed with magic coming out of all crevices.”

  “Well, I can’t say I know you that intimately, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  My bark of laughter broke the serious mood. Okay, so I had asked for that. I couldn’t exactly berate him for my use of words.

  Clearing my face, I held up my hand. A ball of flames appeared, bright red and pink. Maxwell didn’t look impressed. In fact, he looked bored.

  “Well, recently, my witch magic has depleted. Every time I use one type of magic, the other drains. If it’s severed completely, I’ll die.”

  His eyes widened suddenly, his hand gripping my fingers to dispel the magic ball on my palm. “Why are you telling me your b
iggest weakness?”

  The sorrow on his face made me blink. Was… Did Maxwell feel pity for me? Oh boy, he better rein that emotion in pretty quickly, or I’d have to rectify the situation myself.

  “You might not believe me about those warlocks going behind your back. However, what they’re planning… It has consequences. My mother and father went against nature. They had no idea that their actions would lead to me having to choose.”

  Kicking the carpet with my leather boot, I swallowed down the lump that came to my throat. Maxwell patted my shoulder, his expression hardening when he suddenly gripped it. “You promise me you’re not lying?”

  Stepping out of his grasp, I held up my hands, closed my eyes, and whispered an illusion spell. The pure magic filtered from the ground and into me, but it didn’t surge like it used to. In fact, as I pulled, the power started to wilt.

  Dropping my arms, I wiped away the blood that had dripped from my nose.

  Maxwell stared, his cheeks weirdly pale for someone so tanned.

  “I’m not lying. Your people think they’re saving their coven, but the babies created will suffer as a result.”

  I was the first half-breed. Warlocks were male. Yes, there were a lot of male witches now, but that’s because they were created from parents who had pure magic. Some might dabble in twisting the magic into darkness, but warlocks had created their own magic a long time ago. Mother Earth had not allowed any female warlock offspring to have magic. They were human.

  Maxwell bit his nail, wincing when he obviously hurt himself. His nails were right down to the skin. It was pretty gross.

  “Okay, I’ll investigate your claim. Maybe we could work together to find proof of what you’re suggesting. The problem with covens, is the lack of trust in a leader. That’s why you need to hand it over to me.”

  Glancing sideways at the symbol on the floor, I slowly nodded. “Okay, let’s do this. I’m ready to pass over the leadership.”

  Lifting my foot over the flames, I stood in the middle. Digging my dagger out of my boot, I held it in the air. Luckily, no physical magic showed as Maxwell eyed it. I didn’t want him to know that I had stored some of my warlock magic inside the blade.