by Cate Corvin
“I banished it!” she shrieked, throwing her arms around him. “I did it myself!”
She was suddenly aware of his warmth, the musky wood-and-salt smell of him, and released him like she’d been burned. Rosalind groaned, stretching her arms. The faintest scar stood out against her pale skin of her chest.
“But Mom… you were hurt,” Morena said, staring at the scar. Any injuries inflicted in Death always carried over into Life. That was how foolish witches died. “I saw the blood.”
Rosalind smiled, pulling her daughter in for an embrace. “It wasn’t mine, Morena dear. It was still feeding on the last sacrifice. You’ve banished your first spirit! We must celebrate tonight.”
Rosalind kissed her forehead gently and released her, disappearing to find the owner of the gardens with the good news.
Eric was frowning at the mirror in the middle of the conservatory. “Are you sure she was bleeding, Mor?” he asked. Morena covered the mirror with a dark cloth, closing her eyes as the sun warmed her.
She had seen the open wound on her mother’s chest. She was sure of it. What did it mean, that her injury had healed with almost no trace?
For a moment a chill raced over her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She didn’t understand, but somehow, she knew if she told him what she thought she’d seen, their lives would be irreparably fractured.
“I must have imagined it,” she said. “It’s very dark on the deadside, and there were tons of dead animals in there. It was probably their blood.”
She wanted to hug Eric for comfort again, as she had when she was younger. But she wasn’t a child anymore; her body was beginning to curve, and odd things caught her attention now. She had never noticed before the rich darkness of his hair, how his large hands dwarfed hers… the smell of him that made her blood race faster.
The sudden new awareness made her want to cry. Nothing would ever be the same again. She hugged herself and held back the swell of emotion, the thrill of triumph gone cold.
8
Joss had a spare helmet for me. I put it on, trying not to be annoyed that he’d anticipated my acquiescence.
The motorcycle roared down Main Street. I didn’t want to look back at Eric, but I couldn’t help but turn my head as we turned toward Carrie’s Diner. He watched us go, dark eyes as sharp as a hawk’s.
Wrapping my arms around Joss felt strange and familiar all at once. Even when we were teens, the last time I’d seen him, he had a deep love for all things mechanical and fast. We’d spent plenty of hours roaring down the backroads of Brynden Muir, the hilly land where Rosethorne, his coven manor, was built, shrieking as the rain caught us…
I would choke on regret if I thought about it too long. I’d made my choice to abandon the world of witches and covens.
Carrie stared at us through the windows of the diner, her crimson lips dropped open in a perfect O as all six and half feet of Joss got off the motorbike after me.
I sat across from him, but Joss didn’t seem put out, his smile only becoming knowing. And since he’d promised me coffee, I was definitely going to get my caffeine fix.
Carrie hovered over us, casting fleeting glances at Joss. “The usual, Morena?”
I smiled up at her and nodded. Carrie had an obvious crush on Eric, and she didn’t like change. I sensed her disappointment clearly. Eric also served as a buffer between myself and humans, even the ones who relatively liked me.
All we needed was for Samara and Sophia to arrive, and we’d clear the diner in seconds.
“Just coffee for me, please,” Joss said, flashing those cornflower eyes and crooked grin at her. Despite her obvious anxiety, I sensed the beginnings of another crush.
Her eyes melted as she drifted away, gazing back over her shoulder at the Thorne warlock.
“Somebody likes you,” I said quietly. I began shredding a napkin, needing to do something with my hands. Just because we’d been friends all our lives didn’t mean one night of drinking and reminiscing -and kissing- would resurrect our friendship exactly as it’d been.
Besides, he had another best friend now, and if Joss thought one conversation was enough to win me over into going home to Bellhallow, he had another thing coming.
“Everybody likes me.” Joss leaned back in the booth. As I’d deciphered last night, nothing had changed. This time, though, he seemed nervous, the effortless energy of last night lost.
“Coffee date aside, why are you really here?” I asked, deciding to get straight to the point. “I willingly exiled myself. I threw aside our friendship when I left, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for that right away just because we had a drink together.”
Joss stared at me, clasping his hands on the table. Hecate, but he’d become a delicious dish while I’d been gone.
“I’ll be honest with you, Mor, because we were great friends before, and I hope we can still have that. I hope we can have more,” he said slowly, staring at his clasped hands. I stopped shredding my napkin. Joss had rarely ever been this serious when we were younger. There was a gravity to his words that burned away my desire to be flippant. “The covenheads were content to allow you to dissolve Bell coven after the accident. They thought your parents had been digging into something better left alone.”
My lips flattened. I clenched my fists, willing myself not to become angry. Sometimes hard truths had to be heard. Joss sensed my anger, the words pouring out of him as he held up his hands. “I don’t necessarily agree, and you know that. But the circumstances surrounding them were pretty damn strange, you have to admit.”
“So they were.” He wasn’t wrong. That was the hell of it. It’d been almost six years, and I still hadn’t pieced together exactly what had killed my parents.
“They thought you’d run to the mortal world, find it hostile and lonely, and come back with your tail between your legs. When you didn’t, they started talking again. Regardless of what killed your parents, you’re a strong mirrorwalker, Morena. You’re exactly what they want in the bloodlines.”
That was one of the major reasons I’d exiled myself and dissolved the coven. Witching families tended to be tight-knit, despite their distance from each other, and handfasting was not only a political tool but a guarantee of fresh blood in the family line. I’d been naïve to think I would escape notice.
“There’s no power on this earth that’ll convince me to agree with that.” I finally relaxed. So, Joss was here to win himself a bride. I could almost see Melinda behind him, pulling the strings- no doubt she thought sending my best friend, now a Master of Witchfire, to woo me and the Bell coven coffer over to Rosethorne was an ace in the hole.
Joss’s gaze was intense, sending prickles over my skin. He deliberately brushed against my wards, the taste of thorns and roses filling my psychic senses.
Was he here because of Melinda, or because he truly wanted to be?
Joss snorted. “I know. So, now you know the underhanded reason of why I’m here. But I swear, even if you reject my offer, I still want to be friends, or more than that. I’ve missed you.”
“What a romantic proposal,” I said, unable to hold back a smile. I felt the last of the ice thawing between us, the distance bridging itself. “Every witch wants to be proposed to in a greasy spoon. But I’m afraid I have to say no.”
Joss smirked as Carrie placed steaming mugs of coffee in front of us, complete with a cinnamon bun. I dug in, watching surreptitiously as her gaze swept over Joss’s wide shoulders and dark curls. She was definitely enamored.
“I’m sorry, was the proposal not romantic enough?” he teased. “Should I have sprinkled rose petals on the diner floor?”
“Nowhere near romantic enough. I would’ve liked a ring delivered to me in a coffee mug full of champagne. I do accept the proposal of friendship, however. I know Ashville is a long way from Brynden Muir, but you can start coming by. If you want.”
My eyes flicked to his when he looked up at me. I hoped he would read the unspoken invitation there. For a m
oment an unfamiliar feeling beat its way through my chest, washing away the anxiety of the past week. It took me a second to place it as happiness.
I really hadn’t realized how dismal, bitter, and gloomy I’d become over the last few years. Angry and desperate… it felt nice to finally realize I had someone who still cared for my friendship, who wasn’t bound to me by vows and promises. Someone from a coven, despite my rejection of them all.
And someone who, if he told the truth, was here because he wanted to be, not because the matriarch of his coven pulled the strings. Joss leaned forward on his elbows, running his fingers through his hair. “Good,” he said, looking relieved. “You’re a hard witch to win over. Seriously, you have no idea how nervous I was about this conversation.”
I rolled my eyes at him over my pastry. “Nothing like proposing to someone you haven’t seen in six years. What a way to rekindle the past.”
Joss picked at a pastry. “Mother made me promise to throw the offer out there,” he said with a wicked grin. “I told her you’d be a tough sell. That’s why I’ve always liked you, Mor; you make me work for what I want.”
Well, not everything. If he tried to kiss me again, I wasn’t going to hold back.
My wards prickled at the edges, warning me of the vague sign of an approaching warlock. “I suppose I should be expecting more unwelcome proposals,” I said, propping my chin on my hand. “And I have Vivienne Wolfe of all people to thank for it. If that’s what her grandson’s here for, I wish he’d just say so. I suppose the Wolfe coven has never been big on social graces, though.”
Despite her paper-like skin and hunched back, I’d heard Vivienne had still moved around like she was only thirty. Rumor had it she was well over a hundred years old, her servitor blood-bound to feed her strength. She probably wouldn’t be dying anytime soon, which meant there were still many years ahead for her to irritate me with her scheming.
“Adrian isn’t that bad, Mor,” Joss said, draining his coffee. “Maybe if the covenheads didn’t spend so much time gossiping they’d see what’s right in front of them. He’s gone a lot further than any of them have.”
What could Adrian be hiding in plain sight? I’d barely exchanged a whole conversation, but if his psychic signature was anything to go by, he was plenty dangerous. Those rumors about Fellwolfe didn’t swirl around for nothing.
I scowled as Carrie refilled us. “What about the Black twins? If the covenheads need grandchildren so bad, there’s a pair of perfectly unexiled young witches right there. They can go harass them.”
I didn’t mention Sophia’s old crush on Joss. I wondered if he even knew. When we were younger, he’d been oblivious to all the other witches who thought he was cute. I’d been horrified at the thought of my best friend being boyfriend material.
Oh, how times changed.
“Apparently the twins have declared they’ll refuse anyone but their own choice. Which means they’ll likely never marry. They’re attached at the hip.”
I glanced at him closer. Sophia would certainly be willing to distance herself from her sister if he showed the slightest hint of interest. For the first time I really pondered the dynamic between the acerbic twins. They had always been inseparable, but maybe that was because one of them hadn’t gotten what she wanted.
“What do they want with me, though?” I asked. “I can’t exactly marry and produce children with one of them.”
Joss toyed with the empty mug, still gazing at me. “Edgar Black wants to adopt you.”
I almost choked. Adopt me? An adult witch? The twins would be absolutely furious. No wonder they’d been angry about having to invite me to their ball. But adopting the sole surviving Bell witch would put a powerful card in Edgar Black’s hands. He’d be able to leverage me for ties to more distant covens, securing more power for himself as well as bringing reputation to his family. It made sense, in a twisted way.
I imagined what my name would become. Morena Blackbell. Never.
And Sophia would absolutely explode. Somehow, I thought that Samara, the more pragmatic of the two, would understand her grandfather’s motivations even if she didn’t like them, but I would secure the eternal hatred of both for sure.
“There’s no way that’s happening,” I said, shaking my head firmly. “I’ll always be a Bell, with a coven or not.”
I pooled my cash with theirs and Joss clapped his hand over mine. “No,” he said firmly. “You don’t pay with me.”
He saw the look on my face before the expression had fully formed. “Don’t even try to fight me about it.” I shoved the cash back in my pocket, mutinous but grateful, and waved to Carrie, who stared after him dreamily.
“Nonetheless, it’s my solemn duty to warn you that all the covens are preparing to hunt you down,” Joss said, holding the diner door open for me. “Mother will probably find you herself, since you rejected my first proposal. They’re all vying to be the first to claim you.”
“You’ll have to do better than asking me in a diner,” I said.
“So I have your permission to ask more than once?” He gave me his crooked grin. “I’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out.”
I’d always said I’d never handfast, and he knew it perfectly well. I shrugged as noncommittally as possible. “I was never able to stop you from doing what you’d set your mind to, Joss. Doesn’t mean I’ll say yes.”
There was a park with a quiet pond down the street, down a hill and nestled in the forests around Ashville. We slowly meandered in that direction as Joss shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing at me sideways. “Sounds like permission to me.”
I bit my lip as I walked, considering my choices. One good way to get the covens off my back would be to reform my own… but that would involve returning to Bellhallow. At the very least, legitimizing myself would lead to more respectful proposals in the future. And it would take adoption off the table almost entirely.
But I’d rather deal with their stupid proposals than go back the home that held only death and decay now.
“I’m glad you came back for me,” I said. We turned into the trees, following a beaten dirt path towards the park. Trees lined the road so thickly they blotted out the sun. The darkness made me shiver a little. Spirits tended towards darker, shaded places, and for the first time in years, I’d had enough of the spirits. “But I’d never planned on handfasting. I didn’t think I’d ever have a reason to.”
As much as I hated it, it all made sense. I understood coven politics, the covens’ quiet wars against each other, the alliance between ourselves and the world at large. I had never understood humans, living in the dark among monsters, relying on the very people they were terrified of to keep them safe.
“You were always hung up on Eric, and he never left your side when you were training. I always thought you were the prettiest witch I’d ever seen, though.”
Surprise jolted through me. “Me? No.”
“Yeah.” Joss raised his eyebrows. “I thought that maybe someday you might try for Eric again, but…”
I laughed softly. “Uh-uh. Having my heart ripped out once was enough, thanks.”
“Wish I’d known that sooner,” Joss said. “I might have put off the mastery for a while to find you long before now.”
“Don’t think like that. You couldn’t put off a mastery over a girl.”
The newest Master of Rosethorne bumped against my arm. “I could for the right girl,” he said. “Mastery’s not all it’s cracked up to be, anyways. But if I’d known you were done with Eric, I might’ve been around more, and you might never have disappeared in the first place.”
A soft, sad laugh bubbled out of me. His signature, like flame just brushing my skin, washed away the coolness of the forest’s dark shadows. “I would have,” I said, shoving my own hands in my pockets. “I couldn’t stand to spend another day with the covenheads breathing down my neck.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to, either,” Joss said. He slung his arm around my shou
lders, the muscles in his forearm flexing, and I leaned into him, basking in his warmth.
“Besides… even knowing that Eric doesn’t feel for me that way, I still do love him.” I almost felt ashamed to confess it. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to stop loving him.”
A pale shape slid smoothly behind the brush lining the trail, the velvet nap of soft fur gliding by tree branches. I froze in the middle of the path as the mountain lion glided onto the trail, his indigo eyes gazing at me solemnly.
“You again!” I said, crouching down and holding out a hand. “Here, Good Kitty. Sorry I don’t have any snacks.”
The mountain lion looked at Joss with what looked suspiciously like amusement. I felt a little ridiculous cooing over another witch’s familiar, but I couldn’t resist the mountain lion’s uncanny awareness and plush fur.
“Meet my new friend,” I said, as the mountain lion flowed to me and buried his head in my hand. He looked even larger in the light of day, his creamy fur like velvet. Good Kitty’s tail, longer than my body was tall, flicked out and wrapped around my wrist before flicking away again. “I don’t care whose familiar he is, if I get the chance, I’m keeping him.”
“Good Kitty?” Joss asked, his expression unreadable.
“Yeah, look at what a nice boy he is,” I said. The mountain lion placed a paw the size of a dinner plate on each of my shoulders and rubbed his head against me, its indigo eyes focused on Joss. I wondered who was looking out of the giant cat’s eyes and watching us.
“He might not be a familiar, Morena,” Joss said, watching me comfortably as I pet the mountain lion. At least Joss wasn’t running away from Good Kitty in horror. “I mean… who would choose a giant predator?”
“He’s definitely not a normal mountain lion,” I said with a laugh. “Or I would’ve been mauled the first time I met him. Which makes him a familiar.”
Joss knelt down and offered a hand to Good Kitty with a smirk. My mountain lion friend bumped his nose against Joss’s fingers, his long incisors peeking out before he turned away with a chuff. “Wow. Rejected.”