Coven (9 page)

At least I knew how to fight. If I was ever
cornered, all it would take is one quick mental call to my dad and
all I’d need to do is fight long enough for him to get there. I
could do that easily. Jett was the one I was most concerned with.
He’s the one I’d see all the time.

“I have no idea why Jett would want anything
to do with me,” I said.

Seth let his gaze travel slowly over me. “I
do.”

More silence.

“So where do we go from here?”

“I think I’ll take you up on that dinner
invitation.”

“How will that help?”

“If your dad can get to know me better, he
will trust me more. The more he trusts me, the more I can be with
you. The more I’m with you, the more I can help to protect
you.”

“I don’t need protection,” I replied,
irritated. “I’m not some damsel in distress—which I would’ve proved
tonight, had Jett not thrown the fight.”

Seth held up his hands in surrender. “Hey,
now. Back down a bit. I’m not calling you weak, I’m simply saying
there’s safety in numbers.”

“Sorry. I just don’t like it when people
think I can’t hold my own because I’m a girl. It’s such a crazy
stereotype.”

Seth laughed heartily at my comment. “Don’t
worry, Kenna. I’ve only known you one day and I can already attest
to the fact that there is nothing that is even remotely
stereotypical about you.”

“And that’s a good thing?” I asked,
grinning.

Mirth disappearing, his expression softened.
“That’s a very good thing.”

Chapter Eight

Anxiety levels shooting through the roof, I
tapped the eraser of my pencil against the books on my lap, beating
out a staccato sounding rhythm in time with radio.

“Are you okay?” my mom asked, glancing over.
“You seem a bit on the nervous side.”

Nervous didn’t even begin to cover what I
was feeling this morning. I had no idea how people might react
after the fight I’d had with Jett. But mainly, it was Seth’s
revelation about Jett’s family that had me in overdrive.

How was I supposed to act around Jett? Was
it true? Did he know I was a witch? Was my family in danger because
of him?

I mean, my dad was one of the most powerful
warlocks anywhere, so we did have that advantage. My mom wasn’t
magical anymore, so there was absolutely zero risk where she was
concerned; so as far as I could see, that left me as the only
vulnerable one. I knew I could physically take care of myself, and
I also had my own magical powers I could add to the mix—but then,
again, so did they.

Stopping my pencil movements, I rested my
hands in my lap and sighed. “I’m all right. I’m just nervous about
dinner. I’m afraid Dad will drill Seth all night long.” That may
not be the complete truth, but it was one of the many reasons I was
feeling antsy today.

Mom laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my best
to keep your father under control. Don’t be upset with him, though.
We love you more than anything, Kenna. He just wants to make sure
you’re safe.”

“I know. I just hate that everything makes
him so on edge. It’s like every decision made about our family is
some huge discussion, even if it’s over the simplest of things. He
sees danger everywhere.”

She nodded. “And had you lived the life he
has, you’d see danger everywhere, too. It’s practically been bred
into him. He’s been conditioned over the years to not trust anyone.
That mistrust is why he’s still alive today.”

“Barely,” I muttered. “If it hadn’t been for
your family and the Awakening, he’d most likely be dead.”

“And you would’ve never been born.” She
reminded me. “You just have to remember, despite what he’s been
through, his love for you out shines all of that. You are the joy
in his life.”

A crazy sounding giggle burst from my lips.
“I get what you’re saying, but I’m pretty sure you’re the joy in
his life. He worships you every waking moment.”

Smiling, she continued to stare at the
window. “It’s true, we are very much in love with each other; but
you . . . you are the best parts of the two of us—made up
into one beautiful person. Trust me when I say that you are the joy
in his life—the one thing he’s constantly proud of.”

“No pressure there.” I grumbled under my
breath as I stared out the window. “Just promise me he’ll be nice
to Seth tonight. I get the feeling from Dad that he’d like to mess
with him a little. I’d like it if Seth was still into me after
dinner with you two.”

Laughing heartily, she nodded. “I give you
my word. If your dad gets out of control, I’m sure I can find a way
to distract him.”

“I’m sure you can—just make sure it’s in a
different room and preferably one out of hearing distance, as well.
Otherwise Seth may be scarred for life if you two start going at it
on the kitchen counter. The kitchen terrifies me these days.”

Snorting, my mom tossed her long black hair
over her shoulder and fixed her stare on me. “Would you stop? We
are not that bad!”

“My eyeballs beg to differ. And I can’t
count the times I’ve been traumatized by the two of you, mentally,
before I could slam that door closed. I’ve taken to adding alarms
to certain “key phrases” dad says, in an effort to keep the
unwanted stuff out.”

“I’m sorry about that. I know the mental
connection between the two of you must make it difficult. But, we
also want you to know that sex is natural and healthy. Once you
find the right person, it can be a beautiful thing.”

Yay! A sex talk—fairly sure I’m dying
right now.
“I’m pretty sure if I ever find the right person
that Dad will kill him before the guy ever gets the chance to touch
me. I’m afraid to even kiss a guy. And you know how old-fashioned
Dad is. He made the two of you wait until you were married.”

“I know. And that was a hard thing for us to
do; which is why we ended up married so young. But we were already
bound together magically, also. Marriage was inevitable. There was
no way it wouldn’t have happened.”

“So, if I go out and bind myself to someone,
Dad will be okay with him sneaking into my room to sleep with me
every night? And I can marry him right away since I’m already two
years older than you were when you and dad got married? Dad will be
okay with all of this?”

“I think it’s quite safe to say that your
Dad will castrate any guy he ever finds in your room. I don’t think
he will be nearly as generous as my parents were.”

“But why? I’m eighteen already. That’s so
not fair. Legally I could live on my own right now, you know.”

“He knows what guys are thinking,
sweetheart. He’s been in that place.”

“He’s still in that place,” I reminded her
and she actually blushed.

“Do you want to move out and live on your
own?” An ever so slight wrinkle of concern appeared between her
brows, showing my comment made her nervous; but her question gave
me pause.

Did I want to live on my own?

My thoughts immediately drifted to the local
demon coven. It would be stupid for me to do anything of the sort
with them in the area. I’d be a sitting duck and all for what? So
some guy could sleep with me? I hadn’t even kissed a guy, yet, so
that seemed like it would be jumping the gun a bit.

“No. Regardless of how irritated I might get
about Dad and his extreme overprotectiveness, I do love him and
have no desire to watch his head explode if I gave him news like
that.”

“Just give him time, Kenna. He’ll warm up
and come around eventually. Don’t forget he’s been living in the
middle of a forest for almost two decades with you. He’ll get the
hang of normal life after a while, and he won’t seem so ‘out
there’.”

“I’m just happy we were able to convince him
to move. That was a feat several years in the making. I didn’t
think he was ever going to agree.”

“See? You’ve already won one big battle.
Just give him time.”

Yeah, one battle that I’d immediately lose
if he had any clue of demons around. I had to prove that they
weren’t a threat, somehow. I mean, yes, Seth said they’d been
trying to recruit him for their coven, but they could’ve just
attacked him and forced him to comply; so maybe there was hope. The
family had a respected business in the community, too. It wasn’t
like they could go around killing people whenever they wanted. That
would draw too much attention. Maybe they were even more refined
and in control than the Cummings family had been.

Vance Cummings, not Mangum, was the name my
dad was born with. When his mom, my grandma, Krista, discovered
that my grandpa, Damien, had been regularly drinking my dad’s blood
and using him to perform dark magic, she’d run off with my dad and
changed their last name to avoid detection. After Damien had been
defeated, or so they thought, his parents, my grandparents, stepped
in, trying to use my dad’s then uncontaminated blood to steal the
Awakening for themselves. After they failed, one of my dad’s
cousins, Catriona, had tried to kill both of my parents so she
could claim the Awakening that was inside them. Fortunately, Cat
met her own demise, as well; but the celebration was short lived
when Damien reappeared, touting that he had regenerative
capabilities and he’d genetically passed them on to my dad. He even
killed my dad, just to prove that he’d come back to life.

To say I was the direct descendent of
demonic lunatics would be an understatement. And even though my dad
had eventually completed his forced demonic conversion, somehow
he’d managed to keep hold of some thread of sanity inside himself.
According to the stories my mom had told me, it had been very
touch-and-go with him on several occasions. So while he sometimes
irritated me with his choices, I knew, without a doubt, he always
had his family’s best interest at heart.

In fact, he’d researched the Salem area so
thoroughly, I was surprised he hadn’t turned up the demon coven,
himself. Dad was loaded, as in crazy-rich loaded. He’d inherited a
lot of it from his father’s estate after Damien was destroyed—for
real this time—but there was still plenty my dad had made on his
own, both working as a research doctor, building and selling custom
motorcycles, and investing. He had plenty of resources at his
disposal, not to mention how his years on the run had taught him to
be good with money.

Dad wasn’t flashy at all. Other than liking
a decent size house and nice machinery to drive, he didn’t flaunt
his assets. He was very down to earth, even in what he wore—the
bulk of his wardrobe consisting of jeans, t-shirts, and two or
three favorite leather jackets that he like to go riding in. The
only time I’d ever seen him dressed up fancy, like in a suit or a
tuxedo, was for work related charity balls.

As far as powers and abilities, he had
many—both those he’d been naturally born with and those he’d
assimilated from sucking the magic out of his father and my mother.
But his basic, natural, magic was fire—something I’d inherited from
him.

While Dad liked the convenience of magic, he
taught me the importance of doing things the “real” way. Feeling
that witches often got themselves in trouble by using their magic
too much, he’d have me do things the same way anyone else would.
While there was nothing, in particular, wrong with using magic, he
simply felt that the magical community had too much free time on
their hands because they used their powers to take care of the
everyday, mundane things. All that extra time allowed minds to
wander; and often witches found themselves caught up in playing
with, or messing around with, things they had no business being
involved in.

Dad warned me, repeatedly, to be careful
about experiments I tried with magic, telling me it should never be
used to bring harm. It was there to help defend and protect—to do
good for us and for the world. True, he was always teaching me how
to strengthen my powers and how to manipulate things, but it was
all for my own protection and for the greater good.

The words he was constantly drilling into me
suddenly popped into my head.
“The world should be a better
place because you are in it.”

Those were the words I measured everything
by. Was I making the world a better place
,
now? Or was I
contributing to the delinquency of it by not informing him of this
other coven? It was driving me mad.

Last night, I’d finally fallen asleep after
deciding that I’d do my best to find out everything I could about
this coven before I took the information to him. If they were able
to nicely co-exist with others, then there was no reason for me to
raise the red flag, right?

“Well, I hope you have a nice day. Your dad
is working late at the lab today, so give me a call and I’ll come
pick you up after cheer.”

“Do you think there is any chance I can
convince him to let me have a car? I know we’ve been working on the
motorcycle, but I won’t always be able to drive it once the weather
turns worse,” I blurted out as we pulled up to the curb. “Not that
I don’t appreciate the rides, I just think it would be more
convenient for all of us. I’m willing to get a job and make the
payments and everything.”

Leaning over, she placed a kiss on my cheek.
“We’ll, discuss it tonight. I’m sure we can work something
out.”

Excitement infused me at her words, giving
me the exact pick-me-up I needed. “Thanks, Mom. Love you. See you
later.”

Bounding out of the vehicle, I closed the
door and waved as she drove off before turning and searching the
masses of kids strolling toward the building, looking for Seth.

“Well, look who it is? Kick Ass Girl.”

Turning, I found Jett staring at me. His
eyes traveled slowly over me as my mind scrambled for
something—anything—to say to him that might diffuse the awkward
situation. “Where’s your sidekick?” I finally said, referring to
Megan as I started walking in the direction of the school; but he
followed me, shrugging.