Magical Influence Book One (18 page)

He looked back at the window
slowly.

For that short moment it seemed as if
every emotion played across his face in full view. The confusion,
the anger, the frustration, and yes, the concern.

He finally turned back to face
me
. “Fine,
if this isn't a hallucination, what is it?”

I brought my hands up wide, and
I shrugged my shoulders
. “Like I have already told you. We are witches.
Magic exists. Is that so hard to believe?”

He snorted.

Apparently that meant a
yes.

“Look, I don't think we have time for
this. And I know this is really hard to believe, but dark forces,
demons, lost souls of the night – they're all trying to get in the
house. Technically they're coming after me, but knowing them, they
will think nothing of taking you with me. I know we only just met,
and I know you really, really don't like me—”

“I never said I don't like you,” he
interrupted as he crossed his arms, “I just don't trust you. You
are a drug dealer, you kidnapped me, and you...”

“Have a skeleton with a sword in my
kitchen and a grandmother who can walk through doors,” I
challenged.

“Right,” he held my gaze.

“Look, you can do whatever you want to do
when this situation is over. You can take me down to the police
station, you can clap me in irons, honestly – I won’t stop you. But
right now, we need to get through this, and I kind of need your
help.”

He crossed his arms tighter, and maybe
just a little bit of the indecision dried up. Perhaps he had a bit
of a hero complex, and by appealing to it, I was doing the best
possible thing I could do to get Jacob Fairweather
onside.

“I can't say I've appreciated your
attention over the past several days, but Agent Fairweather, I can
appreciate that you obviously know how to handle yourself. And you
obviously...” I looked down at the skeleton hand, “have a talent
for magic. We really need to work together if we want to get out of
here.”

With those arms still crossed tightly
in front of his chest he stared down at me.

An awkward, exceedingly uncomfortable
silence spread between us. I stared up at him, desperate to find
out whether he was going to flop a hand my way, laugh at my
ridiculous explanation, and proceed to haul himself out the window
only to get eaten by demons.

He didn't. After a very long
time he finally relaxed his shoulders
. “I don't believe a word of this, but,”
he hazarded.

I looked up at him sharply.

“I'll stay.”

I smiled. Despite the situation, the
fact that everything was going to hell and that I would probably
end up dead by the end of the night, if not married to a man I
barely knew, I actually smiled.

And I swore that the corner of his lip
twitched up as I did.

“Thank you,” I clasped my hands together,
“now....” Now I had to come up with a plan. Somehow I’d managed to
convince the standoffish Fairweather to come to my aid, but the
night, and even the day, were not over yet. What was I meant to do?
Tell Jacob to pick up his gun, follow me, and start clearing the
house of magical bad guys and lost souls?

I brought a hand up and
uncomfortably scratched my neck. Jacob watched the move keenly. He
nodded down to me
. “You have no idea what to do, do you?” There was a
hardened, accusatory note to his voice.

I looked up sharply, shifting
uncomfortably on my feet
. “I...”

“How do we defend this room? Is there
somewhere else that’s safer? How many enemies do you expect, and
what direction will they come from? What abilities will they have?
What do we have to defend ourselves with? Will my gun
work?”

I actually blinked at his
barrage of questions. They were so quick and fast that I couldn't
follow them. I shook my head like a confused dog
. “Hold on, I can't keep
up.”

“Then I suggest you try harder. If this
situation is as serious as it seems, there’s no time to be
pathetic.”

Pathetic? That single word managed to
punch through my confusion. I wasn’t being pathetic! I had just had
a very trying day. From skeletons in the kitchen to monster trucks
in the morning, of course it was reasonable to assume that I would
be skittish.

“If you don't take charge, I
will.”

I spluttered
. “You don't know the first
thing about magical creatures,” I pointed out as I waved my hands
at him emphatically.

“I seem to know more than you. You
couldn't see that hand, could you?” He walked past the skeleton
hand and kicked it with his shoe. “And what did you see out the
window? Just a shadow?”

I didn't need to be questioned
by a small-time Federal Agent. I stiffened my back a little,
drawing my lips down into a thin frown as I tried to give him a
steely gaze
.
“I am the witch here.”

“Well start acting like one.
Draw up some kind of magical defense. Make a hex or something, or
grab your wand and start producing fireballs. Do
something
. Your grandmother is outside, and though she looks more
competent than you, she also looks like she is about 90 years
old.”

At the mention of my grandmother, I
swallowed uncomfortably, blood drawing thick and fast into my
cheeks. Patting a hand over my hot and sweaty brow, I gave a small
shake.

Jacob saw it, because the edge
to his frown disappeared in that moment
. “Is this the safest room in the
house?” he asked again, voice quieter this time.

“I... doubt it. Maybe the attic might be?
We have stacks of old magical books up there, and a lot of family
history.... That might do.”

Jacob nodded
quickly
.
“Right, then let's head there. Do you have any weapons?”

Not exactly.

“Can you produce... fireballs, lightning?
Anything useful?”

I sucked on my lips, turning my
eyes up until I looked at the ceiling
. “Well... no.”

“I thought you said you were a witch? Your
grandmother walked through a door, can you do that?”

I shook my head.

“You said you lived here to look after
your grandmother, it's the other way round, isn't it?” He looked
right at me as he headed past for the door, shifting the couch out
of the way.

I blushed.
Uncontrollably
. “Now hold on a minute. She is usually very demented, I
will have you know. I come home almost every day to find the place
completely trashed. And the other morning, when she ordered that
kilo of bloody cocaine, that had nothing to do with me and
everything to do with her insanity. She is only... with it at the
moment because the situation demands it.”

“Dementia is not like a switch; you don't
turn it on and off.” He snapped.

“She is a witch,” I rallied.

“And apparently so are you, so do some
freaking magic.”

“I'm not really that kind of witch... I
use influence magic,” I admitted uncomfortably.

“That sounds useless.”

If I were blushing before, my
cheeks were now burning
. “I’ll have you know it’s one of the most
powerful kinds of magic.”

“Then click your fingers and save us
all.”

“It doesn't work like that,” now I crossed
my own arms.

“How convenient. If you can't do anything,
stay behind me, keep close, and let me deal with... whatever is out
there.”

What an ass
. I’d been willing to hold out
my hand to him, explain the situation as kindly as I could, and
protect him as best as my magic would enable me. Yet now Jacob
Fairweather was taking charge in the most arrogant of
ways.

“Look, your options are to stand there
glaring at me, or you can come with me and we can head to the
attic. You said yourself, this situation is perilous. If you want
to stay here blushing with embarrassment, fine, but I'm not going
to.” With that he headed to the door, placed a hand on the handle,
took in a heavy breath, and pulled it open.

Smarting from his insult, but aware of
what he was about to do, I finally pushed myself into action. I
half jogged, possibly in a truly pathetic way, up to his side, and
got ready for what would be out there.

And what would be out
there?

Trouble. Trouble of the likes I had
never imagined and Jacob Fairweather had never thought
possible.

Chapter 14

Despite the fact I was the witch and
the only one who really knew what was going on, Jacob took the
lead.

And just maybe I let him. As he walked
through that door, his whole body tense as his head turned from
left to right, I was right behind him.

Though I had seen my hallway many
times, as I looked on at it now, it was like another
place.

With the storm roaring outside, the
dappled light that made it in through the window above the door
seemed to make the shadows grow.

Or maybe the shadows were growing on
their own.

I sucked in a scared, quick
breath.

“What is it?” Jacob said through such a
clenched jaw his words were barely discernible.

“Get up the stairs, get up the stairs,” I
placed a hand on his back and pushed forward.

If I were any judge, soon those
shadows would grow into something a little more damaging than a
lack of light.

Jacob did not suddenly put his
head down and sprint to the stairway. Instead he stopped where he
was and let out a little growl
. “We can't keep running. Where are they? What are
they?”

Yes, we could keep running.
Deciding I would make a show of how it was done, I went to jostle
past him. But I didn't get very far; he grabbed at my wrist and
held me firmly in place
. “If you don't let me know what we are dealing
with, how am I going to protect you?”

Protect me. That had never been part
of the deal. I was very much not the damsel in distress here. I was
only standing behind Jacob because his back was so
large.

Maybe he saw that moment of
sweet indignation on my face, because he growled even
deeper
.
“Have you forgotten where we are and what's going on? Where are the
enemies?”

I turned back to the shadows. How I
had managed to shift my attention off them, I didn't know. There
was something about Jacob and his petulant sense of arrogance that
could make me forget the most desperate of situations.

They were gone.

The shadows that I had sworn were
growing, lumping together like raindrops collecting down a
windowpane, just weren't there anymore.

In their place
was
... my
hallway. Exactly as I had left it before this whole thing had
begun. The pot plant was still there, that broken chair was still
in the corner, and apart from the sound of the wind and the rain
and the lightning outside, it was almost... pleasant.

I took an enormous swallow.

“Is there anything out there?” Jacob
repeated again, speaking through a locked, hard jaw.

“We’re okay for now.... Let’s just head to
the stairs and up to the attic as quick as we can.”

Again I tried to take charge, but
Jacob was still holding onto my wrist, and apparently he wasn't
going to have me rush ahead.

“I'm the one with the gun,” he said
coldly, letting go of my wrist and taking several steps forward.
His chest was actually puffed out, his head held high, and if he’d
had the time, no doubt he would have slapped some oil on his
muscles and posed for a photo. I'd never seen such a macho
show.

It made me want to snigger. Then I
heard a little, light, crumpling sound from behind me, like glass
breaking.

I gave a yelp and ran
forward.

“Why don't you just advertise where we
are?” he quipped, finally increasing his pace as we reached the
stairs.

“Just hurry up,” I pushed him on the
back.

“Keep doing that, and you’ll find out how
I will react,” he offered in a low, threatening voice.

“Just hurry up, I think I can hear
something behind me,” I turned around, still keeping a hand on
Jacob’s back, telling myself it was only to ensure that he was
moving fast and not because the trace of warmth through his shirt
made me feel safer.

My eyes searched out the hall
below. It felt and looked different again. It were as if someone
had clicked their fingers, and in the blink of an eye the place had
changed. It no longer looked familiar. Though academically I
recognized the
floorboards and the walls, the pot plants, and the various
pictures, they all had a foreign, terrifying sense about
them.

Then I saw something. Quick, like a
flash, heading from the lounge room into the library by its side.
It made me yelp yet again. As a witch I fully understood that the
best way to get yourself attacked by a dark creature was to appear
pathetic and to act like an easy target. Add to that the tendency
to make loud, obvious noises, and you'll soon find yourself stabbed
through the heart by a skeleton with a sword, or tugged through the
wall by a daemon covered in scorpions.