Awakening (Covenant College #1) (24 page)

Paris laughed. “There are a lot of different types of witches, just like there are a lot of different types of people.”

This was the second time in less than 24 hours when someone had accused me of being bigoted. Maybe I should rethink my outlook?

“What type of
witch
are you? Do you do spells?”

Paris considered the question carefully. “Define spells.”

“You
know,
spells.”

“Like in ‘Harry Potter’?”
Paris’ eyes were sparkling.

I never realized how irritating that was. Now I understand why Professor Blake looked like he wanted to throw me through a wall whenever I did it.

“I know it’s not like ‘Harry Potter,’ I scoffed. “Is it like ‘Charmed,’ though?”

“No, I don’t have magical powers.”

“Then what do you do?”

“It’s a long story.”

Paris explained her family history and, she was right, it was a long story.

“My whole family is what would loosely be considered pagans,” she started.

“You mean like animal sacrifices?”

“I suppose, back in the day, they did stuff like that. We don’t though. Wiccans believe in karma. At least my family does. The primary Wiccan rule is to harm no one.”

That is totally like ‘Charmed.’ I didn’t say it out loud, though. I was trying to refrain from making people think I watched too much television.

“So do you do spells?” She still hadn’t answered the initial question.

“We do some spells,” Paris said cautiously.

“What kind of spells?”

“Nothing major.
Some protection spells.
Some karma enhancements.”
I noticed Paris was avoiding all eye contact.

“What else?”

Paris sighed. “My family wasn’t always so . . . pure.”

Now what did that mean? I let her continue.

“There were times when we didn’t follow the Wiccan rules.”

“What happened?”

Paris looked conflicted. “Not everyone in my family is good. Some of my relatives – not my parents or my brothers or sisters or anything – but some of my relatives are into the darker stuff.”

I wanted more details, but I didn’t want to push her too far. I decided that if I wanted Paris to open up completely to me, I was going to have to do the same with her. So I told her. I told her everything. I told her about Professor Blake and his monster academy. I told her about Will and
Aric
and the frat house full of werewolves. I told her about the vampire outside of the dorm rooms. I told her about Rafael and his cryptic warnings. When I was done, she looked stunned.

“Holy shit!”

That had been my initial reaction, too, so I let her process it for a few minutes.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“I didn’t know what to say. I thought you would think I was crazy.”

“Are you going to join the academy?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It feels like I’m being pushed that way, but I’m not sure it’s something I want to do. They seem to be of the mind that all
supernaturals
are bad and I just don’t think they all are.”

“You mean
Aric
and Rafael?”

“I’m pretty sure
Aric
is a good guy,” I admitted.

“You’re not as sure about Rafael, though?”

“He’s more mysterious,” I admitted.

“He’s probably had to be.”

I nodded. That made sense.

“Have you told Blake about
Aric
and Rafael?”

“No.
Absolutely not.”

“So, your first instinct was to protect them?” Paris mused.

“I guess. The truth is
,
I’m still not sure what they’re doing at their little academy. They’re clearly gearing up for some big fight – but I don’t know what they’re fighting against.”

“Have you asked them?”

“Not really,” I said.

“Why?”

“The truth is
,
I feel that if I ask them I’m going to find out things I don’t want to know.”

“Well, you went back so you must have some interest in what they’re doing.”

I hated it when someone confronted me with practical information. “Maybe I’m just curious.”

Paris pursed her lips. She didn’t look like she believed me. The problem was
,
I didn’t know if I believed it either.

“Are you worried about the wolves?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re clearly threatened by you. And
Aric
is big, but I don’t think he could fight off a whole wolf pack – no matter how badly he wants to get in your pants.”

I hadn’t really thought about it. The question made sense, though. I shrugged in response. “Wouldn’t they have come after me already?”

“Maybe they’re waiting to see what you do.”

“I’m not planning to do anything.”

“What do you think Professor Blake would do?”

“I’m not planning on telling him, so I’ll never know.”

“Do
Aric
and Rafael know about each other?”

“What do you mean?”

Paris must have read the confusion washing over my face because she stifled a smirk. “Not that they’re both fighting for your affections. I’m talking about the fact that they both exist as, you know,
supernaturals
.”

“You mean he’s a werewolf and he’s a vampire?”

“Yes.”

I hadn’t really thought about it. “I don’t know. Do you think I should tell them?”

Paris seriously considered the question. “I don’t know. If history is any indication, I would say no.”

“History?”

“Traditionally, werewolves and vampires don’t get along?”

“Like ‘Twilight,’ you know, fighting to the death?”

“I don’t think ‘Twilight’ should be used as the basis for anything – especially good storytelling – but I do think there is something to vampires and wolves fighting. My mom told me stories when I was a kid.”

“There must be a reason?”

“Testosterone?”

“Are all vampires and wolves men?”

“No.”

“Then it can’t be testosterone.”

“I guess not.”

“It’s probably just clan bullshit.”

“Clan bullshit?”

“You know, both clans thinking they’re superior.”

“Probably.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I honestly don’t know.” I was getting sick of admitting that to myself.

“Well, you probably don’t want to hear this, but until you decide you should probably try to stay away from all three of them,” Paris suggested.

“All three of them?”

“
Aric
, Rafael and Professor Blake.”

“I have class with Blake.”

“Well, then don’t talk to him after class.”

It sounded like a good idea on paper. The problem was
,
I didn’t know how practical a solution it would actually turn out to be in real life.

Twenty-Nine

After telling Paris all my secrets, I felt relieved. The rest of the day flew by. At dinner that night,
Brittany
asked the inevitable question – well, inevitable for
Brittany
.

“So, what are we doing tonight?”

If
Brittany
was a “we” person with her roommates, I would hate to see her when she finally got into a relationship.

“I want to dance,” Paris finally said.

“We’ll have to go to a bar for that,” the idea wasn’t thrilling to me.

“Better than a lame party with flat beer in red plastic cups,” Paris replied.

She had a point.

“I don’t want to go to some meat market,” I countered.

“No, we’ll go
some place
small,” Paris agreed.

“What’s a meat market?”
Brittany
’s innocent question made Paris snicker and me roll my eyes.

“You explain it to her,” I told Tara as I walked into the bedroom.

Later that night we had all agreed to go to a local bar that was full of more townies than co-eds, ironically called The Haunt.

“I hope they’re talking about middle-aged drunks and not ghosts,” I whispered to Paris during the walk to the dive.

Once we got there, I changed my opinion. “I hope
it’s
middle-aged losers with beer guts instead of roaches.”

Paris forced me in. Since we were under 21, we had to deal with large black X’s on our hands instead of the customary bar stamp. I wasn’t in the mood to drink anyway. I wasn’t actually in the mood to dance, either. Instead, I decided to play some pool.

I was a pretty good pool player – and I’m not just saying I was a pretty good pool player for a teenage girl. I had grown up with a pool table in my grandparents’ basement. All of my cousins and I were pretty good.

After a friendly game with a couple of students, I noticed a guy watching me from the corner of the bar. He looked to be about 30. I figured he had to be a loser to be hanging out at a bar on a college campus – but that wasn’t going to stop me from taking his money in a friendly pool game.

We agreed to put $10 on it. I won – but I downplayed my ability. Of course, he asked for a rematch, upping the ante to $20. I won again. By the third game, we were starting to draw a crowd. That was fine with me. All men think that women can’t play pool. All men are willing to empty their wallets to prove that fact – even when it’s not even remotely true. I figured a shopping spree was just what I needed.

After about two hours, I was up $300 and I had no shortage of people willing to play. Everyone wanted to be the individual to take the snarky blonde down. This was mid-Michigan,
though,
none of them were exactly pool sharks.

Paris found me in the middle of one game – and watched until I finished. “I didn’t know you could play pool.”

“I’m multi-talented.”

“So I see. How much are you up?”

“I don’t know.” That wasn’t true. I just didn’t want to rub it in. Plus, I wasn’t done fleecing the natives.

After another hour, and another couple hundred bucks, the stakes were getting high. I’d upped it to $50 a game and I was on quite a roll. That’s why I didn’t notice when a familiar face had joined the crowd.

“You guys are never going to beat her.”

I froze when I heard the voice. I swung around to find Will watching – a nervous grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

“How would you know?” The local I was playing wasn’t happy. I only had two balls left to his six. It wasn’t looking good for him.

“She’s the best pool player I’ve ever met,” Will said. “I stopped playing her when I was 16. My ego couldn’t handle it.”

As if on cue, I sank my final two balls with one split shot. Thanks to Will’s conversation starter, no one else wanted to play me.  The crowd that had gathered dispersed and it was only Will and
me
left.

“Thanks for ruining my chances to make some more money,” I admonished him, pushing the last $50 into my pocket.

He regarded the hefty bulge in my pants and laughed. “I think you already cleaned up for the night.”

We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Will sipped from his drink and then offered it to me.

“No one is looking,” he offered.

Like I was going to take a drink from anyone in his fraternity.
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

Will was nervous, I could tell. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, pushing his hair from his eyes. “About the other night  . . .”

I didn’t think a bar was a good place to talk, but I had no intention of going outside with him alone either.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I feel I need to explain.”

“That’s not necessary,” I responded quickly. “I already know everything.”

Will’s brown eyes narrowed. For a second, he looked dangerous. His gaze softened slightly after that, but he was still clearly on edge. “What did
Aric
tell you?”

“
Aric
didn’t tell me anything,” I lied. “I have another source of information.”

“Who?”
Will’s breathing pattern had picked up.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Will
relaxed
all of a sudden. “You don’t know anything. You’re just pretending you do.”

Well, fuck him. “I know you’re a werewolf,” I seethed.