by Sean Stone
“And then the witches will clear out?”
“No, but they’ll be scared and after they lose another fight or two, they’ll go. And of course, the pack will be reminded of why you are their alpha.”
Connor nodded his understanding, there was a small glimmer in his eyes. “Will you come on the attack?”
“The pack sees us as enemies, do you think it’s a good idea if they see us together, they’ll wonder if maybe I’m manipulating you,” Eric said. In actual fact seeing them together would probably secure Connor’s position as alpha better than anything else, it would be seen as an endorsement from the Royce family and Eric was certainly not going to give him that. On the other hand, if Eric went on the attack he might find an opportunity to kill Connor and be rid of him for good. But that was too risky a plan. Someone might see him, or Connor might not die so easily.
“Good thinking,” Connor said. Then he looked about awkwardly. It was clear that he’d got what he needed but wasn’t sure of a way to leave politely.
“Well, I’ve got to get on,” Eric prompted and Connor, relieved of the rescue, hopped out of the car and left. Eric turned the key in the ignition and smiled as the engine roared to life. It looked like things were going to be easier than they’d seemed. Natalie was right, doubts aside, Eric did want to be alpha, he needed to be alpha, it was what he was born for and he would take the position from Connor. He’d worry about everything else when he got there.
*
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Clara’s powers were intermittent. They came and went as they pleased and when they came she still couldn’t make them do what she wanted. She’d tried moving things with her mind but all she ever managed to do was smash nearby crockery. She was nearly out of cups and glasses at home much to Bianca’s annoyance.
Clara had told Bianca everything that had happened in the halfway realm, including the two strange encounters she’d had. The green man and the dark haired girl. The girl held more interest to Clara; she had a message for Nick. She had no interest in delivering Nick any messages, but she was intrigued about who was in town. Who was the girl? Friend or foe?
Bianca had no wisdom to offer on the subject and the next morning they were sitting at the kitchen table discussing things whilst Clara attempted to move a biro with he mind. It was a Sunday and was the one day of the week they got off, they had to work all six of the other days. Even on Sunday they were still on call. It was the downside of getting all the exciting work — they never got to stop doing it.
“The man and the woman don’t matter anyway, the important bit is this Kayla woman. Your dad said she’s the only one who can stop Nick,” Bianca said. She sipped her tea and put it down on the table as far from Clara as possible. She was using a plastic mug which was wise. China had a habit of smashing when Clara was around as of late.
“He said she was an ancient — whatever that is. I haven’t seen anything about ancients in the files at the stations. I’ve had a look through some of my dad’s books and haven’t found anything yet.”
“I bet Alistair knows. But I don’t think he’ll help us again.”
“Not without a price,” Clara said, remembering Alistair’s words. She didn’t want to know what that price might be, Jamal had warned her that Alistair’s help did not come easy and it did not come cheap. She’d been lucky so far.
There was a loud crack and suddenly Jamal was standing right next to them. Clara flinched in surprise and Bianca actually jumped and knocked her cup right off the table, the tea spilled all over the tiles. Clara didn’t know that Jamal could teleport. That was definitely a trick she wanted to learn. She looked up at him, trying to figure out what to say and she saw the fury on his face.
“What were you doing at that shop?” Jamal demanded, looming over them both. “I told you to stay out of trouble and to go nowhere without me. What part of that was hard to understand?”
“You can’t just come into my house,” Clara said. Maybe if she made him feel like he had done something wrong then he would calm down and go easier on her.
“I asked you a question,” he growled, proving that her attempt was futile.
“I had some questions that needed answering,” Clara said.
“So you thought you’d go to Alistair by yourself? After I expressly told you not to.”
“I didn’t go to Alistair, I went to Katrina and I wasn’t by myself I had Bianca with me,” Clara argued. He was making her feel like a naughty child and she didn’t like it.
“What good is she?” Jamal exclaimed pointing at Bianca. Her face turned a deep shade of red and she looked down at the spilled tea on the floor. “No offence,” he quickly added, looking over at her.
“None taken,” she mumbled.
“You should be happy because Katrina talked me out of going after Nick. For now, at least.”
“Really? How?” he said, a little more calmly.
“She told me I’d die if I tried fighting him at the moment.”
“I told you that.”
“You’re not psychic.”
“You don’t need to be psychic to know that,” he said. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table with them. “What else happened?”
Clara told him everything that had happened from the first visit right the way through to her searching her house for answers to her father’s riddle and trying to figure out how to find Kayla. When she was finished Jamal leaned back, stroking his chin and looking down at the table top pensively.
“So you have access to your powers now?” he asked. His tone was much softer.
“Yep, but they still don’t work the way I want them to. I just keep smashing things,” she admitted.
“That’s to be expected. You need to learn to master them. That’s what I’m here for. To teach you.”
“I’ve been trying to move the biro. Every time I’ve used my powers before it’s been when I’m thinking about Nick.”
“You won’t master your powers by using anger. You need to learn to relax. Control your magic through will, not fury.”
“How, though?”
“The same way every other sorcerer does. Practice.”
A few minutes later Clara and Jamal were in the garden. Jamal had cleared the garden furniture out of the way with a single wave of his hand. Clara looked forward to the day when she could do the same.
“To use magic with such ease takes years,” he explained. “But you are a Winters witch and according to the history books your family pick things up much faster than most. Not a single sorcerer in your family failed to become a wizard.”
“Why is that?” she asked. She’d heard a lot about how powerful her family was, but nobody ever explained why.
“If I had to guess I’d say that your ancestors only ever bred with other sorcerers, and powerful ones at that.”
“You make them sound like elitists,” Clara said. It was like the way medieval nobles only ever married equally powerful families.
“Your family weren’t the only ones. There are many families who live that way.”
“So, how am I going to control my powers?” she said, wishing to change the subject. She didn’t want to think of her family as being snobby upper-class sorcerers.
“When children first learn to use magic they use simple spells. They use language. By saying the words of a spell you make the spell easier to perform.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Magic is not science, there is not always an explanation,” he said. “The ancient languages were what was used to write the first spells and by using those languages controlling your magic will be easier. Many people use Latin. I prefer Arabic. Many of the old languages are lost now, but people can still use them. Ancient Greek was a very powerful language, but nobody speaks it anymore. I have heard that Nick uses modern Greek on occasion, but I do not know for sure.”
“So, I can use modern languages?”
“You could try, but I doubt you would succeed. The old langua
ges hold more power — and no I don’t know why,” he added when he saw she was about to ask a question. “You are going to have to learn to accept mystery as part of magic. If you go looking for explanations to everything then you will be sorely disappointed.” Part of being a police officer was learning to always ask questions. Learning to just accept things as they were was not going to come easily.
“Come,” Jamal said and led her over to the bird bath.
“Not this again,’ Clara said when she realised what he was going to make her do. For months, he’d been placing bowls of water in front of her and telling her to make the water move. She was sick of the sight of the stuff.
“Yes, this again. This is lesson one, and should now come easily for you. Hold your hand over the water,” he said and she obeyed. She spread her fingers wide as he’d instructed her to do before. “Now think hard about the water moving. Imagine it swirling gently clockwise. Moving under your direction.”
She did as he said. She imagined the water moving under her hand. Imagined it swirling gently, moved by the power within her. She felt something water-like stir within. Something rising up from her chest. It reached the top and flowed down her arm quickly. It was an odd sensation like her limb was actually filled with water. He reached her fingertips and stopped. Trapped by the ends of her digits.
“Now say dawwama,” Jamal said quietly in her ear. She hadn’t noticed him moving but now she felt him at her side, less than an inch between them. His breath was warm on her face and very distracting.
“Dawamma,” she said and the water in the bath moved just a fraction as if blown by the gentlest of breezes.
“Again, with more force.”
“Dawamma,” she repeated, putting more emphasis on the word. The water swirled slowly and only once before returning to its state of stillness.
“More power,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. Her mind was invaded with other thoughts. No longer was she thinking about moving the water but she was thinking about Jamal. Whispering in her ear. Breathing on her neck. Kissing her.
“Dawamma!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. Shouting in an attempt to drive the lustful thoughts from her mind. The water swirled immediately. Neither slow nor gentle. It turned rapidly, clockwise, going round and round in the bath. She could feel the flow of power shooting down her arm, this time bursting out of her fingertips and palm. Flowing freely from her as she commanded the water. Her arm started to tremble with the force of her power and she could see the water rocking back and forth, no longer moving in a perfect circle.
“Control it,” Jamal ordered. “Pull back a bit. Do not let the power take charge.”
She tried to pull back, she tried to limit the amount of power flowing from her, but she couldn’t. If anything she actually increased the power.
“Don’t use your mind alone. You’re not ready. Use your hand.”
She tried to pull her hand away but her power was holding it in place. It was controlling her. Using all the strength she could command she eased her fingers into a fist. The power struggled against her, still fighting to be free, but she fought back.
“The power is yours. You are in control,” said Jamal.
With a final grunt, she closed her fist and snatched her hand away from the bat. The water instantly ceased moving and was once again still.
“Well done,” Jamal said, smiling proudly at her.
She tried to speak but could only manage a weak laugh. She felt drained. It had taken more energy than she’d imagined it would; not to use the magic, but to control it. Jamal was still standing very close to her, kissing distance, and she wanted to kiss him very badly right now. He smiled again, knowingly, as if he had read her mind. He held her gaze with deep dark eyes and it seemed as though he was going to kiss her, but then he stepped back, enlarging the gap between them.
“Your power’s already stronger than I imagined it would be. We may just be able to make a fighter out of you yet. But that is another lesson for another day. For now, we’ll just stick to the simple spells.”
They spent the rest of the morning practicing Jamal’s simple spells, and by lunchtime, Clara had made more progress than she’d expected she could in just a few hours. Over lunch, they discussed the other things Clara had learned in the halfway realm. The green man, the girl with the message, Arthur’s riddle and Kayla the ancient.
“The people you saw could be anything. Maybe even figments of your imagination. When crossing realms you should never trust everything that you see,” Jamal said.
“Katrina said I could encounter other people though,” she replied. She knew they weren’t hallucinations. They were real.
“There’s no way of knowing for sure.”
“I could go back,” she suggested, knowing that she could not. Katrina would not send her again, not without paying Alistair’s price, but maybe the potion Katrina had used was written in one of her father’s spell books.
“I don’t think so. You were lucky you didn’t get stuck there last time. Why don’t we just concentrate on the things we can do something about?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you figure out your father’s riddle, and I will try to find out about this Kayla person. Deal?” he asked offering his hand over the table. It was about as good as she was going to get and at least he was letting her do something rather than keeping her wrapped away, hidden from danger.
“Deal,” she said, taking his hand.
Adam sat in his car and waited for almost four hours. Finally, his waiting paid off and Genevieve left her house. She walked out onto the pavement with the perfect posture of Mary Poppins and headed down the street. Once she was out of sight he slipped out of his car and approached the house. He’d decided to visit Elizabeth on his own so as not to intimidate her; the girl was timid enough as it was. He also wanted some time apart from Toni. Things were awkward between them since she tried to kiss him. He wouldn’t deny that he had some feelings for her, but it wasn’t anything serious, not like the love he had for Nicole; even if she was being a bitch. She hadn’t spoken about trying to move away with Tommy again but Adam was keeping a close eye on her. If she even tried to do anything of the sort he would stop her, he’d do whatever it took to protect Tommy and keep him close. Even if that meant using magic against her. Before coming to Cedarstone he’d never imagined having children, he’d not thought much of them, but since meeting Nicole and Tommy everything had changed. He couldn’t imagine his life without the boy, and biological son or not he was not going to lose him.
Adam knocked on the door twice and waited. There was a chance that Elizabeth wasn’t in, she might have a job or have gone to meet friends, she might even be a student of some kind; he didn’t know much about her at all, or any of his coven members actually. He really needed to put more effort in, but he’d been so preoccupied with Nicole and fighting with the vampires and the werewolves that he hadn’t had a chance to sit down and get to know his coven. And of course there was the worry of what Nick and his followers were doing on the far side of the town; nothing good he didn’t doubt.
The door opened a crack, just enough for Elizabeth to fit her slim face in. “Yes?” she asked in a hushed voice, almost a whisper.
“Hi, Elizabeth,” Adam said, mimicking her quiet tone and smiling. He’d read in a journal once that mimicking someone was one of the best ways to make them think the two of you were on the same wavelength. “I wanted to have a chat with you if that’s okay?” He didn’t want to sound forceful; he wanted her to feel like she was calling the shots, it was the only way he’d get anywhere with her. If she thought otherwise she’d just clam up.
“What about?” she asked. Her knuckles had turned white where she was squeezing hard on the edge of the door.
“Just a general chat. I’m trying to get to know the coven, visiting everyone one by one,” Adam lied. He smiled at her, hoping it would make her relax at least a little. Her grip on the door did loosen.
“Uhm, okay, well I suppose I can’t really refuse. You are my dynast after all,” she laughed nervously and then opened the door wider, allowing him into the house.
“It’s a lovely day,” he said, hoping that small talk would ease her up some more.
“It is, can I get you a drink?” she asked and offered a slender smile. He asked for a coffee and she showed him through to the living room before she disappeared to the kitchen.
He’d been there twice before when visiting Genevieve, but neither time had he actually taken the time to look around, he’d been too angry to notice much on either occasion. It was a very nicely decorated room, incredibly posh. Rich red carpets with cream and brown wallpaper. The furniture was all dark mahogany, or something similar — he was no expert. The coffee and end tables all had spotless white doilies on them. There were pictures around the living room but none of Elizabeth and only one of Genevieve. She was a lot younger in the picture, thirty-odd perhaps, and was stood next to an older bearded man, probably her dad. She was smiling and she looked truly happy; the only smiles Adam ever saw on her were those which were vicious or insincere.
Elizabeth brought him a coffee in a cup and saucer and placed it carefully on the coffee table before sitting down on the sofa. Adam looked at the chair but opted to sit on the sofa with Elizabeth instead. He knew that Genevieve sat in the chair and didn’t want to seem imposing.
“How are you finding Cedarstone?” Adam asked in his friendliest voice. Although Genevieve had originally come from Cedarstone, Elizabeth had been born in exile after Genevieve fled.
“It’s okay. It’s bigger than the village we used to live in,” she replied. She always kept her eyes down, never making full eye contact. She reminded Adam of those wives who are so abused by their husbands that they’re too scared to look up. But Elizabeth didn’t have a husband, only a mother.
“How’s your mum finding it here?”