Authors: Camilla Chafer
Evan left my room right behind me and, after a gentle push towards the stairs, he walked the few long strides back to his room. For the first time since I had been at the house, I turned back and locked the door before I went downstairs.
TEN
Breakfast was quiet with everyone critically appraising their cutlery or in a deep fug, rather than the usual morning chatter that mixed with the sounds of the coffee perking or the sizzle of Meg’s pans on the stove. I sat in the centre of it all, feeling strangely uncomforted despite being surrounded by my brethren, my sisters and brothers in arms. Wands, even. I stifled a slightly hysterical snigger. Under the table, I felt Evan’s hand press against my leg and I slipped my hand over his as David walked into the room. He rubbed his eyes and yawned widely before patting me on the head.
Meg hovered around the table like a confused butterfly, every once in a while exclaiming “in my own house” or “well, I never” and sighing heavily. She baked muffins in several flavours but there wasn’t the usual vulture-like appetites that normally welcomed her sweet surprises; we picked at them morosely instead. Even the taste of warm chocolate chips melting on my tongue couldn’t cheer me up and that was definitely one of my go-to happy places. I almost felt guilty for waking everyone up until I gave myself a little internal kick and a reminder that I hadn’t asked to have my room rifled.
And just who the hell had gotten into the house?
It wasn’t just a case of jimmying a window or a lock. Wards protected the house too. Judging by their faces, I could only imagine everyone else must have been thinking the same thing.
I stayed distracted all morning; my shimmering wouldn’t come under control and my one and only bout of telekinesis brought every single book from the library shelves crashing in a heap on the floor. Eventually, Evan, with a sweep of his hand, restored the library to its perfection again in a few seconds. He told me to take a walk in the garden and that we would try again in the afternoon.
I didn’t have the heart to be disappointed in my failure as I went outside. I was just glad to have a free moment to think. In the back of my mind, I was calculating my few possessions and where they had been in my room before it was ransacked.
My clothes were in the closet and the dresser, my little bits of jewellery on the top
. A few items of makeup and toiletries were in the bathroom and they couldn’t possibly have been of significance so I discounted them immediately.
The only things that I had that could possibly have been of interest were the contents of the blue box with the papers and deed my parents left me. My new driver’s license and bank card sat in the same drawer. But I checked the box and nothing seemed to be missing, not that I could remember an exact inventory.
No, whoever had gone into my room uninvited had to have been looking for something else, something small that I might hide, but what?
What could have been hidden under a mattress or in a loose floorboard or behind a chair? Think,
I urged myself,
think!
It did no good; I just didn’t have anything to hide. Whatever the burglars had thought I might have of interest didn’t exist and I couldn’t put a finger on what they might have wanted. The only thing I could conclude was that they thought I had something that I hadn’t.
Or maybe they weren’t looking for anything at all
. A new thought stream pinged into my head.
Maybe they just wanted to frighten me now as I’d begun to feel safe.
Minutes later, another thought occurred to me. Perhaps they simply wanted me to know that they knew I hadn’t slept in my room that night. That worried me more than the idea that someone had been there to steal.
Earlier, it had flickered through my head that if I had been there, perhaps I would have been dead by now,.
But if the intention had been to kill me, there would have been no need to muss up my room. They would have seen my smooth bed was unoccupied and could have closed the door and gone without my being any the wiser.
So if the break-in wasn’t to harm me, it left just three possibilities: They must have been searching for something they thought I had; or, they just wanted to let me know they had been there when I wasn’t; or, finally, they just wanted to frighten me. The first was perplexing, the second and third were just creepy.
“I don’t know what to think,” I muttered, with only the flowers to hear me.
I hadn’t really taken notice of where I was walking so when I ended up near the orchard that Meg was so proud of, I was a little surprised at my absentmindedness. All the same, I dropped onto the bench that overlooked the fruit trees so I could sit and ponder my unpalatable thoughts. The breeze was barely there but I could just smell the faintest hint of salty sea air. It seemed strange to find an orchard so close to the sea;
Kitty’s weather magic must have a lot to do with the success of the fruit
, I decided.
Half an hour later, “You look lost in thought.” Evan thudded onto the bench beside me and slipped his arm around my shoulders to pull me close. I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t even noticed his footsteps – but then, maybe he’d used magic to locate me. I rested my head against his chest and listened to his heart beating.
“I was trying to decide what ransacking my room would achieve.”
“What did you come up with?” He was curious but I knew he was thinking about it too.
“Three theories.” I repeated the two obvious ones to Evan and he nodded thoughtfully.
“Both sound possible. What’s the third?”
“Someone wanted to make sure that I knew that they knew that I wasn’t in my room that night. All night.” I emphasised.
“You think someone knows about us?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’m not sure anyone would be that upset,” Evan replied. “Except Marc. He hasn’t decided whether he has a thing for you or not.”
“I think not.” His words on the beach had been pretty clear and he hadn’t spoken to me much since he’d gotten back from New York. He hadn’t been at breakfast this morning either. It occurred to me that I barely even spared a thought for him either; especially not since the night I’d gone to Evan and been welcomed so pleasurably.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Evan sounded cautious and when I looked up, I followed his line of sight and saw Marc striding towards us. Evan slipped his arm away and stood up.
“What do you...” but before he could finish, and before I could yelp, Marc had swung his arm back and brought his fist crashing into Evan’s jaw. Evan staggered backwards, knocking into me as I jumped up behind him. When he steadied himself, and made sure I was still upright, he gingerly felt his split chin with his fingers. As he pulled them away, there was a trickle of blood on both his chin and fingertips. He looked at the blood curiously.
“What the hell, Marc!” I yelled, jumping forward. The energy surging in me suggested I knock him flat on his ass, or over the cliff edge.
“You fucking scumbag,” snarled Marc, taking another swing, only to be glanced away like a fly as Evan casually raised his forearm to block the punch. Marc stood there, his fists curling and uncurling. “You couldn’t keep your hands off her for a minute?”
“Hold on, kid.” Evan tore his gaze away from the blood drops and huffed. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was amused.
“Hold on, kid?” Marc mimicked with a sneer. “How long has this been going on?” He waved a hand towards me.
“Long enough that I don’t have to answer to you,” Evan deflected, before taunting, “Longer if you take a peek inside Étoile’s head.”
I looked up at him curiously and he gave me a tight smile.
So Étoile had seen how things would turn out before even I had known; maybe even from the day I had met him ... or before. But how had Evan known that? And when?
“Marc, whatever has been going on between Evan and me has nothing to do with you.” I stepped between them as if my body would be a barricade, not that it would matter if Evan decided to retaliate. He wouldn’t need to throw a physical punch because I was sure a magical one would pack a whole lot more impact. Marc would have no chance against either. All the same, I was adamant. “Absolutely nothing.”
“What about us?”
“There never was an “us”. You told me that yourself. We’re friends. Nothing more. We both know that.”
“There sure as hell won’t be now.” Marc backed off a step but he was still shaking with adrenaline and his face was etched with anger and, I thought with a start,
disgust.
“You already made the decision,” I reminded him as gently as I could. I didn’t play games; I didn’t read minds. Marc had already told me very succinctly that any romantic ideas I might have had towards him were misplaced. And I found out very quickly that he was right. Yes, I had kissed him and I felt close to him but that was because I’d been uprooted to a place where I knew nobody. In my loneliness, it would have been easy for me to feel that there was more affection than friendship, until I thought about it properly. He could never make me feel the way I felt when I looked at Evan, not to mention when I was with him. Apparently Marc hadn’t been quite so decided about his own feelings. “And I’m with Evan because I want to be with him. I’m happy.”
“He’s not like us,” Marc hissed, his eyes flashing from Evan to rest on me. “You shouldn’t be with his sort.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I shook my head and followed that up with a shrug of my shoulders.
“He’s not one of us. His kind is nothing but trouble. You should stay away from him.”
“Marc, back off,” Evan hissed his warning.
Marc dragged his eyes over Evan and he stared at him, his chin jutting upwards defiantly. He avoided looking at me as he faced Evan, scorn etched across his face. “You should know better. A witch and your kind? Since when has that ever worked?”
“I know what I’m doing,” I said softly. I was still standing between them and I could feel Evan’s hands lightly squeezing my shoulders. The merest touch from him was reassuring and kept my magic simmering at a level that it wouldn’t erupt without my permission.
“I doubt that very much,” Marc sneered as he stepped backwards before veering away from us to stomp towards the house without a second glance.
I pulled a tissue from my pocket and folded it in quarters as I turned to reach up and apply it to Evan’s bleeding chin.
“He packs one hell of a punch,” said Evan, his fingers closing over mine. “Thankfully, I heal fast.”
“You should probably sit down for a minute all the same. That was a nasty gash. If you faint and land on me, I’m done for!”
“Might be quite fun though.” Evan waggled his eyebrows at me.
“To be crushed by over six feet of muscle? Uh-uh.” I shook my head.
Evan obediently sat back down. He took the paper tissue from his chin and I watched in awe as the skin knitted itself back together, leaving nothing more than a thin line that paled and went away.
“Self-healing runs in the family,” he said. “It comes in handy. You would not believe how accident prone I was when I was younger.”
“You don’t seem like the accident prone type.” I looked at him sceptically, wondering
if that was how fast a minor cut healed, what caused those long scars that still remained?
“I’m not anymore.”
“What do you think all that was about?” Evan pulled me to him and rested his head against my stomach for a moment while I stood, gently stroking the top of his head.
“He might be pissed that you’re with me, but I think there’s something that runs deeper. He’s angry about more than just you and me.”
“You think?”
Evan nodded. “I also think he wants to protect you and can’t, though I don’t know why. He sees me as a threat or an obstacle. He would probably be a good friend to you though, if he could stop behaving like a jealous teenage boy.” He thought for a moment. “So, you are happy with me.” It was more a statement than a question.
“Very much so,” I answered as I kissed him lightly on the lips, lingering until he pulled me into his lap and kissed me deeply. Losing ourselves in each other, neither one giving a damn who saw us now.
It was Evan who pulled away first. “We should get back to work before I become very distracted,” he murmured, trailing kisses along my neck, his warm hands on my back just under my top. “I could feel you control your magic. Well done.”
A thought popped into my head, one that overpowered the urges that were drawing my body to Evan’s. I disentangled myself.
“Evan, I have to ask you something.” Evan nodded, though not looking entirely thrilled at the interruption. “Last night you said Robert Bartholomew had personally asked you to come here.”
“That’s right.”
“Why would he ask you to come here if you’re not a regular teacher? You are only teaching me, but why not let David? Or Étoile?”
Evan pushed his chin out in thought and seemed almost embarrassed when he admitted, “I never thought to ask. He was calling in a favour.”
“But why you? Of all people?”
“Complaining?”
“Of course not! But, Evan, there must be a whole bunch of people who can teach magic, why ask you to help me?”
“I think he wanted someone specifically to teach you. He wasn’t pushy about it, but he made it clear that he wanted me to come.”
“Yes, but why you? What made it so important that he had to come to you to ask you to teach me?”
Evan thought about this for a moment. “He must have wanted the skills I had, or known that they would be compatible with yours. He must have been aware of what you could do already or, at least, what you had the potential to do.”
“Does that make any sense to you?” I still couldn’t work out why Robert would call in a favour from Evan.
Sure, he had powerful magic. I could sense it in people, in my kind, now that I knew what to look for, but what made him so superior to the other witches?