Hush (Witches & Warlocks Book 2) (7 page)

“Funny, that’s just what Noah says about you.”

“You and Noah talk about me?”

“Not much. Noah told me about the ranch. I guessed you were there, too.” I wait for Luke to respond and all I get is a glimpse of his profile glowing in the moonlight as he turns his head to stare off into the distance. God, I miss that face. And I hate myself for missing it. “Look,” I say, showing Luke my palms and backing up, “this was clearly a bad idea.”

And then somehow, without me seeing it, Luke closes the distance between us and grasps my wrist. “Don’t go,” he says and I know in that instant that I won’t.

The contact of his skin against mine brings with it the ever familiar rolling, purple fog, creeping up my arm and feeling ever so comfortable. Now that I can recognize it as his magic greeting my magic, I have to wonder how much of me falling for him was the product of a spell and how much of it was that a basic part of me recognized the same basic part of him and it was good.

I sigh.

I’m frozen.

I’m still just an awkward girl, stuck in her own head, lacking the skills she needs to navigate tricky conversations.

With his hand still gripping my wrist, Luke pulls me close and wraps the fingers of his other hand around my other wrist. “When I agreed on the double date at Flannigan’s, you were nothing more than a favor I was doing for Carter. But the
moment
I saw you, Zoe,” his hands tighten on my wrists, “the
moment …
” Luke swallows. “I could tell that you and I were the same and that you were in more trouble than someone like you should have to deal with.”

I’d like to say that I’m still feeling all strong and independent and indignant but his words are melting me. The tension I was holding in my arms and shoulders to keep distance between us is bleeding away and I’m sinking into him.

“And then I got to know you, the real you, the person who was so deeply buried by all the spells and counterspells Becca had on you and I … dating you wasn’t just a favor anymore. It was a pleasure. A hugely selfish pleasure.”

“If it was such a pleasure, then why didn’t you help me?” There’s a needy whine in my voice that makes me cringe.

“I did. I tried. I did what I could without risking my position.”

And just like that, all the melting and sinking and softening towards Luke hardens right back up again. “Your position? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Luke drops my wrists and leans back on the tree, crossing his arms over his chest. The relief I feel at being out of his grasp is instant and rivaled only by my desire for him to touch me again. “Noah told you about the ranch?”

“A little.”

“He and I went very different ways.” Luke looks off towards the moonlight and I swear, his eyes glow a faint red. I’m thrown back to that night I started transitioning, that night he raced towards me at inhuman speeds. I shudder and take a step back.

“Noah told you how dark magic just creeps into you and takes over?” I nod. “It only sucks if you fight it, Zoe. If you give in, it’s absolutely beautiful.” He looks back to me and it’s clear I didn’t imagine the whole red eyes things. They’re crimson and as much as I’d like to look away, I can’t. “Zoe. You and I? We’re the same. Can’t you feel it? Haven’t you felt it?”

Luke reaches out and grasps my hand and there’s a pulse of power and wind blows our hair back off our faces. It’s like the lights fade and we’re standing on a stage in the spotlight, just the two of us. He slides his hands up so they’re palm out, and I press my palms to his and our magic seeps outward, dark and sultry and filled with possibility. It drips to the ground in black clumps, dispersing with little crackling sounds. For the first time since I’ve been living at Windsor Manor, I can feel the tiger pacing inside me, roaring and snarling, so frustrated and upset she’s making me antsy.

I look up at Luke and find myself staring at his lips, watching his mouth move as he whispers something to me: “Just give in, Zoe.”

Oh, I could meet him like this night after night. Get answers to the questions Noah won’t touch. I’ll use Luke to understand my dark side because part of me knows I won’t ever be able to control it until I understand it.

It’d be so nice to stop fighting. To just let what happens, happen. To relax. Let down my guard. I lean into him, sliding my hands up his arms and onto his shoulders, craning my neck and parting my lips. All I want is to kiss him.

But that’s not gonna happen.

Behind me, someone clears his throat. Luke tenses and I jump back, nerves on fire
before
I can focus on who just interrupted us.
After
I recognize who’s standing in the dark, his hands shoved into his pockets and his lips strung into a tight little line, my nerves explode into a tsunami of an upset stomach.

Luke clears his own throat and swallows. “Hey, Noah.”

Chapter Eight

This is like the worst possible way I could have imagined this night going. It’s not like I have any reason to feel guilty about Noah catching me like this … well, wait. That’s a lie. I have every reason to be guilty about Noah catching me after sneaking out of Windsor without permission, wrapped up in Luke’s arms, just about to kiss him. Especially after the way Noah and I kissed this afternoon.

I say the first thing to come to my mind. “I’m sorry.” And it’s true. Mostly. I mean, I’m sorry I broke the rules, and I’m sorry if I hurt Noah. But there’s this little part of me that’s still all keyed up and excited. This part of me that’s thrilled to know I snuck out. This part of me that’s excited by the chaos I’ve caused. I don’t think I’m comfortable with that part existing inside me.

Noah looks at me with so much disgust that I want to cry. “Just … don’t. Ok, Zoe?” And now my hands are shaking and my lip is trembling and I really and truly wish I’d stayed home tonight. So much for thriving in chaos.

“Hey.” Luke steps forward. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“Oh, ya?” Noah rolls his eyes. “And how would you have me talk to her? Through a fog of magic designed to confuse her and keep her weak?” Luke starts to protest but Noah ignores him. “I think you’ve done more than enough, don’t you, Luke?”

There’s this moment of intense eye contact and strong postures and magic hangs heavy in the air, like tanks in the streets and men with guns on your sidewalk. Something serious is about to happen. Noah’s tiger flares to life beside him and I shit you not, a dragon pops into the air beside Luke. An honest to goodness dragon breathing tiny bursts of flame through his smoking nostrils.

It’s the rumble of an earthquake and the sputtering of a long dormant volcano and all I want to do is make it all stop. Slowly, as if creeping through a minefield, I reach out and touch Noah’s hand. When nothing happens, I step forward and thread my fingers into his. His hand stays limp, his fingers extended rather than folding up to entwine themselves in mine. It stings but I deserve it and ignore it. “Noah?” He refuses to look at me, but I give his hand a little tug anyway. “Noah? Take me home. Please?”

There’s this moment when he doesn’t move and I’m so afraid they’re going to start trying to kill each other, but then he finally turns to me. There’s so much distance in his eyes, disappointment just perches there, pointing its crooked little finger my way. He walks off without saying a thing and I follow him, sparing Luke one last look over my shoulder.

We get out of the cemetery and Noah pauses. “You have a tracking spell on you, remember?” he asks without quite looking at me. “I knew the moment you left the Manor.”

There’s this sinking feeling of impending doom settling into my flip flopping stomach and I can’t think of anything to say other than: “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t tell you about the magic suppressing spell on the window because I didn’t want you to feel trapped. Plus, I
really
didn’t think you’d try something like this.” So, that’s why I fell. A magic suppressing spell. He finally looks at me and I almost wish he’d look away again. I can’t stand what I see in his eyes. “The fact that you were able to cast any magic at all is pretty amazing.” He doesn’t look like it’s amazing. He looks too sad for that. He puts a hand on my shoulder, waves his free hand through the air, and whispers something under his breath.

There’s this awful wrenching and it’s like I’m being pulled in two different directions at once and my ears keep popping like I’m on a plane. And then I’m standing alone in my room in Windsor Manor, staring at my closed window and wondering what the hell just happened.

********

Days pass in a steady stream of classes with Noah never quite meeting my eyes and meals with Noah sitting silently beside me. I’m getting stronger and stronger and my spells are more reliable each day. In fact, I’m often surprising my teachers by out-magicking them. When it’s just Noah and me working together, he takes me off into the corner and he throws hateful words and looks my way, feeding my regret, baiting my dark magic. Each time I manage to maintain control, he sets his jaw and tries a little harder to piss me off.

And I think he’s finally succeeding.

Sure, I disappointed him by sneaking out, and maybe I hurt his feelings by being all wound up in Luke’s arms, but at least we could, you know, talk about it. Like adults. Everytime I try to bring it up, he just brushes it off with some generic shit about it not being the right time. Well, excuse me, but I think it’s way past the right time, thank you very much. Noah is all I have left in this world, the only reason I don’t feel completely lost and alone and now that he’s locking me out, well, I just kinda feel awful every day.

Which doesn’t make it any easier to block my dark magic from just swallowing me up. Thing is, after I disappointed Noah once, I’m determined not to let him down again. The more upset I get, the more distant he becomes, the more I feel my dark magic pushing against my surface, stretching me like an overfilled balloon … well … the more I just push back. I
will
gain control. I
will
prove to him that I’m worth his time. I
will
make him proud and get him to talk to me.

If he doesn’t totally piss me off and push me away first. And at the rate he’s going, it’s really an either/or situation at this point.

I never heard anything from Daya about sneaking out. Never suffered any repercussions on that at all, so all I can assume is that Noah kept it to himself. And sure, that’s great, I guess, but it’s just more of that
nothing
that he’s been giving me since the night he caught me almost kissing Luke. I’d almost rather he’d told her.

Almost.

Today, they’ve got all of us student-types gathered in the library at Windsor. This is pretty much the first time we’ve all been in one place at the same time, learning the same stuff, so the younger kids are all keyed up. Ok, so I’m a little excited, too. After weeks of all encompassing sameness, it’s refreshing to be doing something different. All the mentors are lining the wall, standing and watching their fledgling witches and warlocks with varying mixtures of pride and concern on their faces. I try - unsuccessfully of course - to catch Noah’s eyes and give him a little smile.

You know what? Fuck him. He can hang out all sour if he wants to, but I think I’m done caring.

The teachers file into the room, all of them toting clipboards except for Daya who’s carrying this massive box, wooden and ornate and inlaid with gold. It’s gorgeous and just oozes power. She sets it down on a table beside an ancient grimoire that rattles open as she draws near, eliciting gasps from a few of the younger kids. Tony - he’s the youngest, this little gap-toothed twig with a mop of red hair - he bounces up and down in his seat, kicking his legs out and flicking a little ball of bright orange energy around his toes. A sharp look from Daya settles him right down. Well, it makes him try to be still. His eyes are still wide and glistening and I swear he’s quivering with the energy he’s trying to contain.

“Today you will be tested.” Daya’s throaty voice scratches out into the room, quieting the last few whispers flitting between friends. “Your powers will be strained.” Tony actually giggles, this high pitched nervous little quaking sound and the rest of us relax as smiles stretch unbidden across our faces. Daya gives him a silly little exasperated look, a mother trying to be frustrated with her precocious child but failing miserably through all the love she’s feeling, and it’s like the first human thing I’ve seen her do.

With a wave of her hand and a breathy whisper, Daya opens the box without ever touching it. The lid slides off and sets itself neatly beside her grimoire. Tony and the other kids are rapt, eyes fixated, smiles growing, little kids at a magic show. Smoke and light shoot up out of the box and just like a genie unfurling from its bottle, forms itself into the shape of a very young boy.

He’s wispy around his edges and sparks flicker from his fingers and his eyes glow like autumn sunshine. I know exactly what he is.

“This,” says Daya, her gaze flicking to meet mine, “is a remnant.”

Since I’m the only student currently in Windsor Manor to have ever seen a remnant, and because the story of the first time I saw one is kind of a big deal around here, what with all the people I killed and all, I suddenly find myself the center of attention as the entire room turns its focus to me.

Daya pretends not to notice and regains their attention by continuing her little speech. Apparently, we’re going to help this little boy pass on. Since I’ve already done that for a remnant on accident once, it’ll be good to learn how to do it on purpose. Maybe this time I can do it without killing everyone in the surrounding area. Grief twists my stomach as I think of all the bodies. All the families absorbing the loss. All because of me.

I try to lose myself in what Daya’s saying, try not to let the guilt speak louder than she is. Apparently, remnants speak to witches and warlocks telepathically, and most the time, it’s like they use a giant loudspeaker to get into all of our heads at once. Daya doesn’t go into detail about what happens the rest of the time. We can speak back to them telepathically as well, that way we don’t have to look like we’re talking to ourselves if we happen upon one in public, although a remnant can hear our spoken voice just as clearly as they can hear our ‘thought voice.’