He gave me a slightly amused sideways glance. “I’m sure we are, but it was worth it.”
Alton wasn’t slightly angry, or irritated. He was livid. I could barely stand in his presence—though, to be fair, I had it easy. Wade, Garrett, and Finch were still spasming from O’Halloran’s baton.
“Can we sit down?” Wade asked.
“No,” Alton snapped, his back to us as he absently gazed at the bookshelf behind his desk. I heard Wade sigh before Alton turned around, his hands sunk in his pockets. “I must say, I’m disappointed. In all of you.”
“If I may—” Wade tried to speak again, but Alton promptly shook his head.
“No, you may not,” he said, then set his sights on Garrett first. “Effective immediately, your teams will be switching roles. Wade will handle the investigation of the Bestiary, and Garrett will be in charge of cleanup.”
“Wait, what?” Garrett blurted.
I stifled a chuckle, catching a glimpse of a smile fluttering across Wade’s face.
“I gave you a chance, Garrett, and you chose to insult and harass a magical,” Alton replied. “You clearly aren’t ready for a leadership position, since you seem to think it comes with a free pass at eavesdropping on private conversations and verbally assaulting people. I don’t take kindly to that kind of behavior. Besides, the Rag Team did another sweep of the Bestiary after you and found a spell disruptor—proof you didn’t do your job right.”
I didn’t need my Empathy to see how angry and frustrated both Finch and Garrett were. I laughed on the inside.
“Wade, unless your team comes up with results over the next forty-eight hours, I’ll have no other choice but to call in the Los Angeles Coven,” Alton continued. “I can’t keep this under wraps for much longer, especially after yesterday’s incident. And we all know that if the LAC gets involved, the Council will also step in, and we’ll suffer severe penalties. Your team has already proven itself more than worthy and capable to handle any challenge that comes your way, and you continue to have my and the preceptors’ full support on the analysis of your investigation. We will help however we can, but you are the boots on the ground here, and I need you to pull through. You are this coven’s next generation, and I’ve made it my mission not to keep you on the sidelines. Don’t make me regret that decision.”
“Understood,” Wade replied with a nod.
“That being said, I don’t approve of your aggressive behavior, either. Unless you make it up to me with some investigative breakthrough on this Bestiary issue, I’ll reduce your pay for the next six months.”
My stomach tightened—that was definitely Wade. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“Harley, you’re new, and you’ve had a rough couple of days, already.” Alton sighed. “Frankly, I would’ve done a lot more damage to Garrett for what he said. I admire you for your restraint.”
Really?
“Restraint? Seriously? I think she broke my tooth,” Garrett said, holding his reddened jaw.
“Want me to break one on the other side, too, and make it even?” I replied flatly.
“Enough,” Alton interjected. “You’re all dismissed. If I get wind of you fighting again, I’ll have you ejected from the coven altogether.”
Whoa.
We all nodded and headed for the door, our heads down. Wade and I were particularly satisfied with the outcome, but we didn’t show it. Every fiber in my body wanted to laugh in Garrett’s face, but I was thankful that Alton was able to hand out such sweet justice. He was right, though: we weren’t exactly role models.
“Harley, wait a minute.” Alton’s voice made me still.
As soon as Wade, Garrett, and Finch left, I turned around to face Alton again.
“Yes, sir?”
“You’re not responsible for the sins of your father,” he said. “I’ll have a word with the children of Hiram’s victims and make that clear, in case their grief gets the better of them. Don’t let such words get to you in the future. You’re not Hiram. You’re Harley Merlin, and you’re most likely the last of your bloodline. You have the power to make that name mean something again.”
Tears stung my eyes as I gave him a nod and a weak smile. “Thank you, sir.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next day and a half went by in a haze. Alton decided to postpone my science center job induction until after the Bestiary investigation came to a conclusion, so I could focus my energy and resources on that. However, I couldn’t skip the classes.
Even without an Esprit, I still needed to learn about my abilities and my heritage as a magical. Wade had also assigned me to do research on the spell disruptor. My best bet was with Preceptor Bellmore, since charms and hexes were right up her alley.
I joined one of her morning classes, and was rather flushed to discover that I was, by far, the eldest of her students. The other twenty magicals I shared the class with were all under twelve, and constantly making jokes at my expense. According to some of them, I was too old to be in school.
“You’re never too old to be in school,” I muttered, trying to pay attention to Preceptor Bellmore’s talk on cursed objects. She was giving me a lot of useful information already, but the kids weren’t making it easy to focus, their emotions raw and difficult to handle. Fifteen minutes into the class, I was already looking forward to the end.
“Next thing, you’ll tell us books are your friends,” a young warlock chuckled.
Great, I’m getting bullied by ten-year-olds.
“This isn’t a school.” Preceptor Bellmore intervened. “We teach magic in these halls, but the coven is much, much more, as you will all soon learn.”
As soon as she finished the class, I held on to my desk, ravaged by the joy and relief of kids who were looking forward to playtime outside, and not another hour of school. While endearingly nostalgic, that wasn’t the vibe I needed for my mission. I had every intention of finding something useful on that spell disruptor. From the moment I’d learned about my father, I’d made it my mission to prove—mostly to myself—that my last name didn’t define me.
“Can I help you, Harley?” Preceptor Bellmore asked, after five minutes of quietly watching me squirm in my chair. The kids were all gone, and I could breathe again. My head snapped up from the doodles I’d viciously scrawled in my notebook throughout the lesson.
“Yes. Sorry! All the kids’ feelings were… intense,” I replied.
“I can imagine,” she said. “They’re bundles of energy and raw emotions. Though, I have no idea what it’s like for you, as an Empath.”
“It’s… Imagine lots of water balloons hitting you in the face, over and over. Only it’s not water. It’s gasoline. And it’s on fire.”
The shadow of a smile passed over her face as she leaned against her desk. “Maybe you should consider private tutoring. I can make time, if you’d like,” she said.
I stilled, a grin slitting my face. “That would be fantastic, thank you!” I replied, then remembered my mission regarding the spell disruptor. I fumbled through my jacket pockets, removing the disruptor, and held it out for her to see. “I wanted to ask if there was anything you could tell me about this.”
Preceptor Bellmore came closer and picked the disruptor up with two fingers, turning it over several times, her frown deepening with every move. “Where did you find this?”
“Can I count on your discretion?” I asked, remembering we’d been asked to keep the investigation on the down low, particularly since not even preceptors were allowed in the Bestiary anymore, and I still suspected basically almost everyone.
“You found it in the Bestiary,” she replied, pursing her lips.
Well, that was awkward. I nodded slowly. “How did you—”
She cut me off. “The Rag Team got investigative dibs on the Bestiary. And you clearly didn’t find this lying around in Kid City. I’m not stupid, Harley. I can put two and two together. Don’t worry, I won’t say a word. I want the culprit caught as much as you do. Anyway. I sup
pose you’ve already been told what this is?”
“A spell disruptor.”
“That’s correct. What is interesting about it is its complexity. It’s quite rudimentary, but strong enough to bypass a charmed box. However, not just anyone can make it. It takes skill, and excellent knowledge of my field, as well as good contacts in the black market.”
“The black market?” I asked.
“The dark web, to be specific.”
“You’re serious,” I said. “I thought the dark web was for terrorists, pedophiles, and everything else that’s wrong with our species.”
“Including evil magicals, yes. You see this?” She pointed at the reddish bone shards. “These are Anirin beads, made with Irish troll blood. They are extremely rare, extremely expensive, and extremely dangerous, even deadly, if used properly. They’re the elements on this disruptor that are actually capable of breaking the glass sigils. The others help but wouldn’t get the job done without these little beauties. They’re not sold anywhere, but I’m sure the resourceful evildoers can find them in a dark web chatroom, if they dig deep enough.”
“I can’t trace them back to an owner, can I?”
She shook her head. “It would be difficult to find such a spell.”
The alarm on her phone rang with a gentle chime. She checked the screen and let out an exhausted sigh. “Unfortunately, I can’t deal with this right now, but I’ll think about it later,” she replied, then handed me the disruptor. “I’ve got another class coming in. You might want to get out before they overwhelm you again. I’ll talk to Alton about setting you up with private tutors.”
“Thank you, Preceptor Bellmore,” I said, getting up from my seat. I could hear children giggling and chatting outside, getting closer and louder.
“Call me Sloane, please—you’re not one of the kids.” She smirked, then waved me away just as all the kids poured into the room and I broke into a cold sweat.
I spent the rest of the morning muddling through a couple more classes with Preceptors Ickes and Redmont, both reaching the same conclusion: I could barely focus in a room full of kids. I needed private tutoring. Halfway through the physical magic class, Nomura called Finch into the room, to my surprise.
“I need you to take Miss Merlin here to one of the training halls, and teach her defensive Telekinesis,” he said to Finch, who looked as befuddled as I was.
The change in my last name didn’t escape me, either; I just didn’t know what to make of it. Preceptor Nomura was quite good at keeping himself extremely cool. I got a hint of curiosity from him, but other than that, he was focused on teaching. The only thing that irritated him was when I wasn’t paying attention, but he couldn’t blame the developing Empath—for the time being, anyway. I was going to get it under control; it just took time and stronger nerves. Mine were temporarily tattered.
“Sir, I have to train with O’Halloran—” Finch tried to shirk the responsibility by pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the door, while attempting to come up with a good excuse, but Preceptor Nomura didn’t give him the opportunity.
“One hour, Finch. That’s all I ask, and you’re the best one I know with Telekinesis who would be able to help her. She’s distracted with all the children, and I refuse to let a class pass without all my students fully focused. I’ll assign her a private tutor as of tomorrow but, until then, please.”
Imogene had suggested that I cozy up to Nomura to get some training on using my abilities without an Esprit, but, judging by his decision to pass me over to Finch, that wasn’t going to happen today.
Finch thought about it for a couple of seconds, then conceded with a heavy sigh and motioned for me to follow him. We went to one of the adjacent training halls, which was brightly lit and refreshingly quiet.
“Sucks being an Empath, huh?” Finch said.
“You can say that again,” I replied with a shrug, then stopped in the middle of the hall, not sure what he wanted me to do.
He kept about twenty feet of distance between us, slowly turning around to face me. He was wearing a black outfit, with combat boots and a turtleneck sweater, bringing out his athletic build. He stared at me for a while, before the corner of his mouth twisted upward as he gazed out the window.
“Listen, Merlin—I hope it’s not offensive or something if I call you Merlin?”
He didn’t sound angry, just slightly irritated, though I still wasn’t sure what his problem was, where I was concerned. He seemed to have disliked me from day one. Maybe he’s just a jerk by nature. Like Garrett. Birds of a feather and whatnot.
“Apparently, it’s my real last name, so… no, not offensive,” I replied, my voice lower than usual.
I wasn’t intimidated or anything. I just didn’t know what to expect from him anymore. One day he was an absolute creep, basically begging for an ass-kicking, only to stop Garrett from throwing further verbal assaults at me the next day. Finch was the Russian roulette of insults.
“Okay. Listen, Merlin, I want you to know… I mean, I want to apologize on behalf of the investigative team… well, the team formerly in charge of the Bestiary investigation, for Garrett’s behavior,” he said, not too happy with having to say it. I didn’t have to feel that; his flat tone said more than his words. “His behavior was way out of line, even by my standards.”
He smirked, prompting me to chuckle. “I’m guessing murderous parents are off limits, huh?”
“You could say that,” Finch replied. “Thing is, Garrett’s a good guy, but he lets his mouth get ahead of him, especially when he’s angry. Or, in this case, jealous.”
“Huh?”
“You didn’t notice? Okay. Wow.” He laughed, crossing his arms. “Garrett has, or had, the hots for you. I think that went away the moment you punched him. Though, he can be a masochist, sometimes. He might still end up serenading you outside your bedroom door. Point is, he saw how you and Wade get along, and he didn’t like it one bit.”
“There’s… There’s nothing going on between Wade and me,” I blurted out, my cheeks heating up.
“I know. Wade’s got higher standards.”
“Do you need me to warn you when you’re being an ass?” I replied bluntly.
He sounded befuddled. “Why?”
“Or maybe you don’t pick up on social cues.” I decided to give up trying to explain why he’d been offensive. I figured if nobody taught you the basics past a certain age, there’s no point in me trying. Kind of like swimming upstream. In lava.
“Wade likes his girls prissy, prep-school style,” Finch replied.
I went to prep school. Briefly. It was as awkward as it could get, but that counts, right?
“Got it,” I said, following up with a brief nod.
“Anyway, I digress. Point is: whether there’s something going on between you and Crowley or not, Garrett thinks there is. And after you dumped him at the Noble Experiment the other night, well, he took it hard. Harder than I’d thought he’d take it, anyway. That whole thing about your dad and stuff, it was him acting out. The rest of us, we were just—”
“Protecting your own. I know,” I murmured. “It’s cool. He can apologize himself, though. I don’t accept apologies via proxy.”
He narrowed sky-blue eyes at me for a couple of seconds, then offered a half-smile. “Cool. So, Telekinetic, huh?”
“Pretty sure you’ve got first-hand experience with that,” I retorted, slightly amused. “I’m not going to apologize, though. You had it coming.”
“I’m not expecting an apology,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m expecting you to get better at it, within the next forty-five minutes.”
His phone alarm rang. He rolled his eyes, then pulled out a small pill bottle from the side pocket of his black cargo pants, and popped two capsules in his mouth, chewing slowly. The sour look on his face told me exactly how awful they tasted. I couldn’t help but squirm a little.
“Time for your vitamins?” I smirked.
“You could say that. Show
me your attack pose.”
He didn’t waste time, nor was he interested in telling me more about those pills. Don’t get your hopes high. For all you know, he’ll flip back to asshole by dinnertime.
“I thought you were teaching me defense.”
“You thought wrong.”
“But Preceptor Nomura said—”
Finch cut me off. “You don’t want to give anyone the chance to attack you, in the first place. Defense is for kids. You’re a grown woman, and you’re clearly made for ass-kicking, so that’s what I’m going to help you with today. Your private tutors will teach you about defense afterward.”
“Okay,” I replied with a shrug. “I don’t have an attack pose, though.”
“Which leg do you first use when you start running?”
I pointed at my right leg. He came around and showed me an attack position that involved transferring my weight to my right leg, to use as a pivot. He then lined up ten barrels at various distances in front of me and had me pick each one up with my mental lasso, then gently put them back down. “This will teach you control,” he said. “If you can control your target, you’re halfway there.”
“I’m okay with static targets, though,” I replied. “It’s the moving ones I have trouble with.”
He thought about it for a couple of seconds, then went over to one of the barrels, and threw it up in the air. “Catch it and put it down gently.”
I missed the barrel by inches and cringed as I watched it crash onto the hard floor, wood splintering all over. Two barrels later, I managed to catch one midair, but my control was still quite weak. I could catch and fling a moving object, but I wasn’t too steady with putting it back down in one piece.
Two more barrels later, I managed to smack one onto the floor. It didn’t break, but it didn’t land vertically, either. It wobbled, then fell over, but I was still pleased with myself. Finch, however, didn’t look pleased. He was hard and unyielding as a teacher, but I found that I liked that—it wasn’t the negative reinforcement, but rather the challenge that I responded to.
Harley Merlin and the Secret Coven Page 29