by Ariel Hunter
I stared at it. My blonde hair was pink. “What the . . .” I had no idea. I shook my head. My mom shook it away too.
“No matter, you do what you want with your hair, honey. I was afraid the Collector had gotten you, after the attack on the gala. Are you okay? Is this your blood?” She rubbed at my forehead and I pulled away again. Callan was smirking at me trying to get away from my mom’s motherly concerned ramblings. “What happened to you? I told Hiram and Josie you wouldn’t run . . .” She cast an evil glance, which I appreciated and imitated, at the Paragons. “Though, since you caged your powers, they have no pull on you—”
My dad stepped into the room just then and my mom stopped talking. Everyone stared. The Paragons gasped.
“Ronan . . .” My mom spoke his name as if it were jerked straight from her heart. He nodded at her, trying to smile. Trying not to cry.
“Is it really you . . . where . . . where have you been . . .” My mom held me tighter to her chest, almost afraid to get too close to my dad. She looked from me to him, not seeming to believe it.
“It’s him, mom. It’s really him. He’s been held captive by the Collector for the last ten years. Uncle Wyatt kidnapped him, just like he did me. Wyatt didn’t take me here from the Beltane gala. He took me to the Collector. He betrayed us.”
I guided my mom’s hands toward my dad’s. Tears were misting her eyes. As she touched my dad’s blood-scuffed, frail fingers, she started crying. He pulled her into him and embraced her, murmuring sweet things into her hair, and holding her tightly. She clutched at his loose robes and looked up at him, stunned.
I turned to the Council. “Trent Brecker is the Collector. He was left burning in his cave of torture. My dad and I just barely escaped. There’s more people at his hide-out that he has been holding captive for I don’t know how long.”
The Council exploded into conversation, shocked at my revelation that one of their star-studded Knights was the Collector. I was momentarily forgotten.
Callan moved closer to me. He touched a tendril of my blood and oil stained, now brilliant pink hair. His smirk, seemingly ever-present on his face, was comforting.
“It looks nice. Sexy.” He rubbed my shoulders and then thumbed away some of the blood on my temples. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “It’s a long story. What about you; are you okay? What happened at the gala?”
“We were attacked. By the Collector’s people. It must have been a distraction in order to take you.” Callan brushed his hand through my hair again.
“Were there many people injured?”
“A few. It was mainly a distraction so your uncle could take you away easily while we were fighting the other magicians. Certainly ruined the night, though.”
Down the hallway, I caught a glance of a figure moving out of a room. “Is he here?”
Callan shook his head, but his body tensed. He followed my gaze. “Let’s go find out.”
The figure was in a dark hooded cloak, carrying a big bag. He slunk down the hallway, and headed toward my mother’s library, away from the wards that surrounded the living room. He caught sight of us coming for him as Callan and I sprinted toward him. Zilla leapt from my shoulder, growing larger as he bounded, and spiraled in the air, rushing toward the figure before he could teleport.
Zilla pummeled into him, sprawling the man onto the ground, the hood flipping back, revealing my uncle.
Wyatt flung up his hands, firing orange magic straight into Callan’s face. Callan thrust a blanket of gold before him with a quick block and the orange ricocheted into the carpet.
Zilla stood over my uncle, then sat directly on his chest, his two front legs pinning my uncle’s arms. Pink smoke wafted from his mouth, framing my uncle’s head, threatening to devour him.
“Get . . . him . . . off . . . me . . . Marnie . . . please . . .” My uncle grunted out the words, unable to say much more since Zilla was heavy on his diaphragm.
I grinned at the lizard and ran his hand up his huge backbone, looking at his large eyes and put my arms around his neck, squeezing tightly.
“Don’t fire any more magic, Wyatt, and I won’t let him breathe fire in your face.” My uncle nodded in a hurried agreement.
What a good little lizard . . . Oh my god, he really is Godzilla. I patted his back and jerked my head to the side, in awe as my beautiful monster stomped away, releasing his prey.
The Council had followed us down the hall. Their clamoring began in chorus as Callan hauled my uncle to his feet, wrapping magical binds around his hands. They were clearly concerned about what it might mean that my uncle, so highly seated on the Council of Witches, and Trent Brecker, a prized specimen of the witching world, were also two of the most highly sought-after supernatural criminals.
This infiltration was of the highest concern.
Callan tossed my uncle into a corner of the living room. One of the Council warlocks stood close guard over him. Another one of the Council witches had already left to begin assembling a unit to trace Trent and his cavern of collections.
“Respected Paragons,” I said into the voices that had run rampant. They turned to look at me, and I was glad that they actually fell silent. “I want my magic unbound.”
Hiram and Josie looked at each other. “Would you like to tell us how you escaped the Collector’s?”
I sighed. “Does it really matter? I was there because he wanted to collect my magic to become a white or black magician. If I had been able to use my magic, I would not have been in so much danger. I made a mistake in caging it. I want to learn it. I want to be part of the witching world. I want Callan to be my Mystic and I will earnestly do my best to respect all of your wishes. However, your wish cannot be to control what you can’t understand, just because that which you can’t understand might be more powerful than you.”
Hiram and Josie traded another look. “Fine. Sit down. I will unbind you.”
“You don’t need Xaro?” I was surprised.
“The unbinding is not as complicated as the caging. That’s why Trent would have been able to do it.” Josie looked over at Zilla where he was still in large form, cuddling up like a bear-sized dog in a corner. “Could you perhaps request your familiar go back to his normal size, first?”
I looked at Zilla, then patted my shoulder. He flicked out his tongue and sauntered toward me, shrinking down as he did in a whirl of pink mist, huffing out a gust of rosy smoke. Then he leapt up onto my shoulder, wrapping himself around me. The way his claws clutched me was so soothing.
I sat down on an ottoman in the middle of the room, looking over at my mom and dad. They were holding hands, glancing at each other shyly.
Callan smiled at me smugly. I rolled my eyes. He had been right: it hadn’t taken long for me to want my magic back.
Josie murmured a chant. Pink magic swelled at my fingertips while orange swelled at hers and a rushing wind swept through the room. The few people left held onto their robes. Josie’s brow furrowed, and she whispered a few things to Hiram. Then she spoke the chant again.
The Paragon Witch dropped her hands and stopped talking. She stood in front of me.
“Your powers are already unbound.”
“I know,” I said.
“How?” she whispered. I shrugged. “It must have happened during the confrontation with the Collector. You managed to uncage your own powers. I have never heard of this happening before. You are surely . . .unique. But why the song and dance?”
“To prove a point. You can’t cage me anymore. Not even your all-powerful spell stopped me tonight. But I still want the Council to know that I am on your side. That you agreed and were willing to unbind it,” I said boldly.
“I sense great instability in you. Somehow, your magic is changed. It is different than it was when we caged it. It is fluctuating quite a bit between the red and white. It is more important now for you to get it under control. The way that your familiar gets larger and breathes fire can only indicate that your magic is embedding itself in him. You
must seek out the Seers and train with them, as well as continuing to train with Callan. You must get a hold of your magic, if not for the Collector, then for the danger I fear you could become to the world.”
Josie turned away then, as there really was nothing else to say.
Callan stepped up to me and helped me stand. I was light-headed. I spread out my fingers and willed pink magic to wrap around my hands. It obeyed, a ribbon rolling in and out of my fingers. I realized that my heart didn’t feel empty in the same way it had after the caging. There were still pangs of pain, as if something had been stripped away, but it was also as if the emptied vessel of my magic was slowly getting refilled.
It seemed to radiate somewhat from the little lizard on my shoulder, as if my connection to him was stronger, more emphasized. We had just been through a lot together. I definitely needed to talk to Cassandra.
“It’s been a long and trying day.” Callan addressed the room. “Marnie needs some rest. So do I. I’m taking her home. We are trusting that you will be leading a mission to act on the Collector’s whereabouts immediately.”
“Yes, you can trust that we will be tracing Brecker. We should have him in custody soon. Thank you for the intelligence, Ms. McTavish.” Josie looked at me evenly.
This had been a whirlwind of a day. I was walking away with my powers when I had thought that the day would end with me leaving the witching world entirely.
I walked up to my mom and dad. “I’m glad you’re back, dad. I’ve been, uh . . . staying with Callan Edwards. I’m in an arranged marriage with him right now. Mom can fill you in. I’d like to see you tomorrow, though, if I can. Want to have dinner?”
“That’d be nice.” My dad looked at my mom. “Is it . . . is it okay if I stay here? I can get a place in town if you’d prefer. A hotel or something . . .”
My mom put her hand on his cheek, gazing into his eyes as if she never wanted to look away. “Ronan. This is your home. No matter what has happened, we will figure it out.”
I smiled at them and gave them each a hug. Even my mom. There were more important things than my earlier argument with her. Then I turned to Callan and took his hand. He teleported us home.
Chapter 23
“Can I get you a drink?” Callan said as soon as we were back at his place. He let go of my hand and walked to the kitchen. “You probably need one after the day you’ve had.”
“Yeah, sure. Whiskey, neat. Three fingers,” I said, feeling the exhaustion in my bones. “I’m going to go take a shower real quick. I just—”
Callan held his hand up as he stood at the bar. “Say no more. Go on. Your drink will be here when you get back.” He moved to get two glasses as he continued. “Do you want to eat? I can make you something,” he offered.
I shook my head. “No, thanks, though. I have a knot in my stomach. I don’t think food will sit well right now.” I turned to head down the hallway that would lead to my room. “I’ll be back in ten,” I said over my shoulder.
I just needed a little bit of time to wash the dirt and blood off of me. Time to think. I closed my door and Zilla hopped off my shoulder onto the bed. He was probably just as tired as I was. He had been through a lot too when I thought about it. He curled up on my pillow, wrapping his tail around himself. I huffed a small laugh at him, wishing that I could fall asleep so quickly.
I stripped what was left of the dress off of my body, tossing it on the floor as I walked to the bathroom to turn on the water. I let the steam fill up the room before I stepped in. I just wished the scalding water would wash away more than the grime that was covering my skin.
Fifteen minutes later, with wet pink hair—that would take some getting used to—and an oversized long t-shirt, I walked back to the living room. Callan’s back was to me. The lights were dimmed, but I could see that he was still in his tuxedo shirt. He was sitting, facing the massive windows that overlooked the ocean and the night sky. The sounds of the water were steady and relaxing. I stood there for a moment, not sure if he was awake. But then I saw him raise his glass to drink from it.
“Hey,” I said, coming to sit down on the couch next to him. He looked to me, his shirt collar open and the bow tie undone, hanging down on both sides. God, he looked sexy. He nodded down to the drink he’d poured for me. I reached for it, taking a long sip of the caramelly liquid. I let out a long sigh.
“I told you so,” Callan said, breaking the silence.
“Told me what?”
“You would want your power back.”
“It would have been nice to not need it under such an extreme circumstance,” I said with a slight eye roll.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened at the Collector’s?”
I huffed. “Fucking Trent.”
“Mmhmm,” he hummed, but the sound was gruff. He draped his arm around me. Not quite possessive, but definitely claiming.
“It was so fucked up, Callan. I was locked in a hanging cage. Like an animal. Worse, really. It was the vision I had before. Zilla got me out. I’m so thankful he wasn’t taken away when they caged my powers. I owe him my life.
“Then I found my dad. I can’t believe my dad was alive all this time. I kept trying to use my magic to get us out, but I couldn’t. It was so empty. So terrifyingly empty . . .” I looked away, not wanting him to see it on my face. He’d been right, and I was too stubborn and arrogant to believe him. “It actually hurt to try and use it.” Did I want to tell him how many times I tried to call for him? That in my darkest hour he was what I held onto?
“Before we could get out, we were caught. Trent strapped me down on a table—legs, arms, even around my neck.” Callan’s body tensed next to mine and his breathing was ragged. I realized what he may have been thinking. “No, not like that. I mean, yes, I was strapped down. But he didn’t touch me . . . not in that way.” His body relaxed, but only slightly.
I took a moment and cleared my throat. “Anyway . . . he hooked me up to this machine where he tried to extract my magic. It started coming out. He was taking it. I just got so fucking angry. And I somehow took it back from him. I just . . . exploded.” I remembered that feeling when it came back to me. Feeling almost whole again. “I formed it into these bullets that I was going to throw at Trent. Then Zilla grew into a huge lizard, like the size of a dragon. How you saw him at my mom’s, except he got way bigger and attacked Trent. It gave me the chance to get the hell out of those restraints. We released a bunch of magic that he’d collected from other people, and the magic that was my dad’s. Then my dad was strong enough to teleport us out of there. Which was good. Who the hell knows where I would have teleported us to.”
I rubbed my temples remembering the needles piercing into my skin. “It was really scary, thinking I would be trapped there forever. I don’t know . . . it’s just a lot to process.”
Callan sighed and brushed back some of my hair. “You got to see a few different types of cages tonight, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I suppose I did.” I took another drink and then put it down on a nearby table. “This whole time I thought our arranged marriage was the only cage I’d have to fight against.”
Callan shifted on the couch and cleared his throat. He removed his arm around me and stood up. “It’s late. I’m going to go to bed. You should too. We will have a lot of work to do with your magic.”
Damnit . . . I hadn’t meant it that way . . . ugh. Way to go, Marnie. Foot meet mouth.
As he moved to leave, I caught his hand. He looked down at me. I stood up and then pulled him in close. The moon was reflecting through the wide glass windows, shining in his eyes. He looked at me unsurely. My heart was raging in my chest.
Just do it. Stop being a chicken shit.
I leaned in and kissed him.
Callan stiffened and didn’t return the kiss. He shook me away, stepping back.
Shit, what did I do wrong?
“Marnie, I don’t think this is the time. You had a lot happen today. You’re confused, and I’m not wi
lling to take advantage of that.”
I shook my head. “No, wait—”
“Marnie—”
“Just listen,” I snapped. He closed his mouth and dipped his chin in concession. “Please, listen. I was confused before, but I’m not anymore. Now I know.”
“Know what?” he asked in a deep, husky voice. Callan didn’t step closer, but he also didn’t step away.
“At the lowest part of my life tonight, all I wanted was you. I called for you. I used the summoning incantation so many times. Even after I knew it wouldn’t work, I still said it, just because it made me feel a little better, thinking that you were out here looking for me. You were the one I tried to call. Not just to save me. You were the one that I wanted to get back to. Not my mom. Not Anya. You. I want you.”
His hazel eyes darkened a fraction and a subtle glow started to illuminate from them, like fire. He stepped forward so intensely I moved backwards. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me tight into him, his other hand around my neck, devouring my mouth.
He lifted me up, his hands around my ass and I wrapped my legs around him. He spun me around and tossed me onto the couch, coming down on top of me and pinning my hands back behind my head with one hand, the other hand going to my throat. I kept my legs wrapped around his waist, angling my hips up into him. He pressed into me and I could feel his cock, already hard for me.
My heart raced. I caught glints of pink sparks firing from my fingertips harmlessly as emotion overwhelmed me.
He kissed me deeply, his tongue battling with mine as I battled for air against his hand choking me while his lips smothered mine. Desire burned inside me.
Callan moved his hand down from my throat, and I gasped to catch my breath. His fingertips ran between my cleavage, all the way down to my stomach and then my heated core. My soft t-shirt split apart where he touched it, and flakes of gold magic dusted my skin as he pushed it to either side. Callan sat back on his knees and parted my thighs. I let them fall open as the rest of the material ripped. He clasped my calf in his hand, and then slid it higher and higher, watching my eyes glaze over as his fingers toyed with the edge of my panties.