Coven (2 page)

“No, I think your mom is the more logical
one in our relationship.”

“Which is why I think I got it from you
. . . she still has hers.” I couldn’t help my grin and he
laughed even more.

“Get out of the car, smart ass.”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “Watch
your language,” I mimicked, reaching for the door handle. “I love
you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, Firecracker. Have a good day
and be safe. I’ll be here to pick you up afterward. Maybe we can
work on your motorcycle later, if you don’t have too much
homework.”

“I’d like that,” I said, meaning every word.
My dad was one of the most sought after custom motorcycle designers
around—and he’d taught me everything he knew about them. I loved
bikes! Working on them together was always something I looked
forward to; so when he asked if I’d like to build a custom bike for
myself with him, I jumped at the chance. I couldn’t wait to finish
it and start riding it to school.

Shutting the door behind me, I waved as he
drove away before turning to face the reddish orange brick school.
Except for briefly meeting the principal and a secretary, who
helped me register, I didn’t know a soul here. The principal, Mr.
Walters, had given me special permission to try out late for the
cheer squad and I was super excited about that.

I may have been homeschooled up to this
point, but my parents were . . . well, they were loaded
when it came to money; so no expense had been spared in my
education. Learning how to dance was a big deal to me when I was
younger, so my dad found a witch qualified to give me lessons.
Since this school didn’t have any dance classes, I really wanted a
shot at the cheer line/dance team, so I could keep doing the thing
I loved.

Straightening, I made my way toward the
front doors, not really making eye contact with anyone as I
surveyed the other students going the same direction. I clutched my
spiral notebooks, the paper bag holding my lunch, and my schedule
as if they were life preservers that would protect me in this sea
of newness.

Reaching the door, I was surprised when a
short, but cute, guy paused, holding it open for me. “Thanks,” I
muttered, as I stepped through.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied,
continuing to eye me like I was fresh meat. Then again, I guess I
was.

Choosing to ignore Captain Way Too Obvious,
I continued into the building, glancing down at the sheet of paper
in my hand, which had my locker number and combination. I didn’t
really need it, since I already had it memorized, but I carried it
around mainly for security, in case anyone needed proof that I was
in the right place. Plus, it was something to hold on to.

There was no sense in lying to myself, I was
nervous. But I wasn’t afraid. I hadn’t really had the chance to
interact with anyone my own age for like—ever. Not that I regretted
my childhood. I understood why my parents felt it necessary to
raise me in the middle of an ancient Oregon forest, in a house so
warded by magic that no one could see it. They did it because they
loved me and wanted to protect me, and I loved them for it. But, in
spite of everything I’d learned over the years, social interaction
was something I never really got to practice. Yes, I’d been to
public places with my family, once I’d grown older and understood
the consequences of what showing magic to others could do. I just
wanted this experience—to make friends, be part of clubs and other
activities. I wanted to be social and have a reason for a cell
phone and be a part of all the other great things people were
into.

Smiling slightly, I thought of the new phone
in my bag. I’d even set up a Facebook account already, in the hopes
of meeting new people. It was funny how I never needed a phone
before. I was always with one of my parents, if not both of them.
And, on the rare occasions I’d been home alone, I always had direct
access to my dad through the mental connection we shared. There was
never any need for a phone unless I was calling one of my grandmas,
and then I just used one of my parents’ phones.

Recalling my extrasensory mental abilities,
I used them to quickly scan the crowded hall in front of me,
wondering if I could read anyone’s thoughts the way my dad had been
able to read my mom’s when they first met.

However, only silence greeted me. Oh well,
it was probably unrealistic to hope that I’d get to go to a real
school
and
meet my soul mate on the very first day. Better
to stick with one thing at a time. Friends first.

With that thought in mind, I began paying
attention to the auras surrounding the people I passed. Seeing
auras would greatly aid me in finding nice people to hang around
with. I could easily see who the bitchy people were by their dark
brown auras, which were usually flecked with red. The friendly
people stood out with their multi-colored ones, but I looked
specifically for purples, whites, and pinks. Those would be people
who had a lot in common with me. They would have natural intuition
or psychic abilities—even if they didn’t know it. People of those
colors would be more apt to believe things about my life, if there
was ever a need for them to know. According to my mom, there were
definitely advantages to being a witch with friends who understood
you—not that she was actually encouraging me to tell anyone our
secret.

I located my locker and pretended not to
notice the glances cast in my direction. It didn’t offend me at
all, since I knew being the “new girl” would pique people’s
interest. As long as they didn’t mind me staring back on occasion,
everything should be fine. All of this was so different and
fascinating to me.

Twirling out the combination, I quickly had
the locker open and was able to store some of my things inside. I
was pretty sure Mom and I had gone slightly overboard on the school
shopping. I had notebooks in every color, along with coordinating
pens and pencils organized into multicolored containers, plus a
cute, magnetic locker mirror, so I could check my makeup.

“That’s quite a supply you’ve got in there,”
a male voice said over my shoulder. “Now I know who to come to if I
ever forget to bring a pen or pencil.”

Turning, I stared at the tall, sandy blond
haired guy beside me.
Hot damn
. He was really good looking,
and he had incredible green eyes. Despite imagining a moment like
this forever, I suddenly found myself completely tongue tied and
scrambling for something to say. Thankfully he started talking once
more, sparing me the embarrassment of not replying.

“I’m Seth Masterson, by the way—your new
neighbor.”

Neighbor?
I quickly tried to picture
the houses that were nearest to our new place, wondering which one
he belonged with. I suddenly realized I still wasn’t speaking.

Shifting my bag back up on my shoulder, I
extended my hand. “Kenna Mangum. It’s nice to meet you. Which house
is yours? I’m still trying to get familiar with our street.”

Seth chuckled and nodded toward the lockers.
“I meant I was your new locker neighbor.”

“Oh!” I felt stupid. So much for making a
good first impression, I guess.

Seth slipped his hand into mine, shaking it.
Immediately, trails of warmth traveled up my arm, something I’d not
been expecting. It was almost . . . magical. Unable to
help myself, I began studying his aura, noticing lots of pink and
purple in it, but there were flecks of dark spots that confused me.
Maybe he had a temper? Or maybe he struggled with something? I
couldn’t figure out what was going on with him.

“Are you all right?” Seth asked; and I
snapped out of my musings, heat flushing my skin as I realized how
hard I’d been staring at him. We were still holding hands.

Immediately I dropped mine, flustered. “I,
uh, sorry.” He was going to think I was a nut job. I quickly tried
to think of something to explain my behavior, but then decided to
go with the truth. Laughing, I shook my head. “No, I’m not all
right, actually. I’m on sensory overload, a little. I’ve been home
schooled my whole life because my family used to live in a very
remote area.” Okay, so it wasn’t the complete truth, but it was
still true. “This is my first year at public school and I’ve never
really had the opportunity to hang out with kids my own age before.
I don’t know anyone here. I didn’t mean to be rude. You just caught
me off guard. I wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to me.”

Turning, Seth opened his locker and tossed
some things inside. “That makes total sense; and you didn’t offend
me. I thought maybe my natural charisma made you dumbfounded.”
Shutting his locker, he turned and leaned against it, staring at me
with a slight smile. “Guess I was wrong.”

Sighing, I smiled back and shook my head
slightly. “You’re not wrong
.” Oh my gosh! Did I actually say
that?
The guy was a complete stranger. If he didn’t think I was
crazy before, he definitely would now.

Instead of running for the hills, Seth
flashed me a full on, wide smile. Dear heaven above, I could feel
my heart doing this weird flip floppy thing inside me. If I thought
he was good looking before, his smile made him even a thousand
times more. Briefly, I wondered how many other unsuspecting females
had fallen prey to that perfect grin.

“I think I like you,” Seth said with a
chuckle. “You’re so . . . straightforward. It’s kind of
refreshing.” Some of those dark flecks in his aura grew, giving
hint to the fact that something about less-than-straightforward
people bugged him. “What’s your first class?”

“English,” I replied. “Creative writing,
actually.” I’d chosen that class because I loved writing. It didn’t
matter if it was spells, magical lessons I’d learned and copied
into my Book of Shadows, or simply writing in general, I couldn’t
get enough of it. I had notebooks filled with short romance stories
I’d written over the years in my spare time, mostly fan fiction
based on movies and television shows I’d seen, or favorite
characters from the books I’d read. There was only so much a person
could do out in the middle of the woods. I got creative with how I
spent my time.

“With Mrs. Parker or Mrs. Thompson?” he
asked, bringing me back to the present.

Glancing at my schedule, I looked for the
teacher’s name. “Um, Parker.” I turned the paper so he could
see.

“Well, now I have a reason to enjoy that
class. I hate writing, but all the other English classes were
full.” He continued to study my paper. “Looks like we have some
other classes together, too. I’m in this math class, and
biology.”

I smiled. “That’s cool. I’ll at least know
one person now.”

Seth continued to smile, his eyes drifting
not so subtly over me before returning to my face. “I’d be happy to
introduce you to more people, if you’d like. Come on. I’ll walk you
to class.”

Shutting my locker, I fell into step beside
him, casting a quick glance over at him when he wasn’t paying
attention. So far, today was looking pretty good.

Chapter Two

“Hey, neighbor. How’d the rest of your
morning classes go? Did you survive?” Seth spoke as he stepped
beside me and began twirling out his locker combination.

Smiling, I nodded. “I think it went okay.
Everyone I’ve met seems pretty nice, so far. I have a ton of
homework already, though. I’m not too thrilled about that.”

Seth tossed his belongings inside and
slammed his locker shut before turning to look at me. “Damn those
teachers. I swear, every single one loves to pile on the homework.
I guess they think we don’t have better things to do.”

“I really don’t have anything better to do,”
I admitted, sounding like a complete loser. “I mean, since I don’t
really know anyone or what all there is to do around here, that
is.”

Glancing over me, Seth smiled. “I can help
change some of that. Do you have lunch plans?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I was going to
find the cafeteria and see if the food looks any good. I brought a
lunch for today, though, in case it was unappealing.”

Giving a disgusted sounding snort, Seth
shook his head. “You don’t want to waste your time in that place.
Why don’t you come with me and I’ll introduce you to some of my
friends? We hang out at lunch together every day.”

A secret burst of joy shot through me at the
invitation and I couldn’t help my wide smile. “I’d really like
that. Thank you.” I shifted my purse strap higher onto my
shoulder.

Seth grinned wider, too, his eyes never
leaving my face, zeroing in on my mouth.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious and
wondering if perhaps there was some of my breakfast still stuck in
my teeth.

“Nothing,” he replied, still grinning.
“You’re just really pretty.”

I didn’t want to blush, but his remark
caught me off guard and I quickly tried to stutter out an
appropriate reply. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughed. “Did you just call me
pretty?”

“I . . . I, uh, didn’t mean to.
That’s not what I meant.” Dang it. Social bantering was so not my
thing.

Leaning closer, he nudged my shoulder with
his and winked. “I know. I’m just enjoying giving you a hard time.”
Having no clue what to say to that, I simply continued to grin like
an idiot, feeling way out of my element. Thankfully, he didn’t seem
too intent on continuing the torture. “Come on, let’s go.”

“What kind of car do you have?” I asked,
trying to keep the conversation going so it wouldn’t feel
awkward.

Seth’s eyes lit up as he turned to look at
me. “A black 1966 Plymouth Barracuda with gray racing stripes. I
love old-school muscle cars.”

“Did you restore it?”

“No. My dad bought it off a guy when I was
about thirteen, and he restored it. He gave it to me when I got my
license.”