Magical Influence Book One (25 page)

He really must be under a lot
of pressure,
I tried to rationalize to myself. Why else would he be this
stressed and on edge?

“Just go upstairs and finish your shower,”
he took an enormous breath, turned from me, and headed towards the
kitchen, pulling his phone from his pocket as he did.

I watched him go. At first his heavy
walk and the clear strain playing across his large shoulders and
back plucked at my heart strings. I was in part responsible for his
current state, wasn't I? As everyone kept on reminding me, I was
the one who had stupidly undermined her life through a couple of
solid years of complaining and lazing about.

Then doubt crept in.

I had no idea why and I had no idea
where it came from, but all of a sudden a flicker of suspicion
ignited within.

I instantly dismissed it and
surrendered to the idea of finishing my chocolate cake and
shower.

I made it all the way back to the
bathroom before I changed my mind.

“What are you doing, Esme Sinclair?” I
asked myself out loud as I let my towel drop to my feet. Before I
leaned forward and turned the taps back on, I turned and looked out
the window. The gardens outside really were beautiful, and I could
swear that the storm waging war with the city looked less severe
from in here. In fact, everything did. Form inside this house, it
seemed everything going on outside was a touch irrelevant. Subdued,
pointless.

A frown made its way onto my lips from
some deep, subconscious place, and it stuck there.

Everything was right here, wasn't it?
Jacob hadn't lied to me, had he?

He'd already demonstrated he
was magical, and thus far he hadn't done anything but try to
protect me
–
unless you counted all the insults and quips, that was. I could not
forget how he'd pulled that skeleton hand off my throat, and nor
could I forget that he had healed my injuries.

Feeling thoroughly confused, I rubbed
at my arms and began to turn from the view.

Then I saw something. Something I
would not have expected to see on such a windblown and rainy
day.

A butterfly.

It flapped right up to the window and
appeared to hover about for a moment, almost as if it were looking
for a way to get in.

My brow crumpled in
confusion.

I reached out a hand to open the
window, but by the time I had unfixed the latch, she was
gone.

“What on earth?” I leaned out the window
to watch her go.

Butterflies usually found a safe place
to sit out a storm like this, I mused. Then I practically rolled my
eyes and knocked myself on the head for being thoroughly stupid.
Hello, it was almost winter here; butterflies weren't around full
stop.

I kept the window open a little longer
as I frowned up into the storm above.

Had it been a sign?

I scratched at my chin and grabbed at
my towel before I really knew what I was doing. I dried myself off
as quick as I could, took another bite of my cake, and then reached
for my clothes.

I knew enough about my grandmother to
know that she would never leave me like I had left her.

As I tugged on my jeans I solidified
my frown into a tight-lipped but determined smile.

I had two options here: stay and
finish my shower or leave and find my grandmother.

I could no longer ignore her warnings.
She'd spent the entire day telling me that if I wanted it to end
well, I had to claim my power. Maybe she'd never predicted that
Jacob Fairweather would waltz into my life and turn out to be a
super powerful wizard or whatever he was, but surely my
grandmother's prediction still stood; things were only going to
work out for me in the long run if I found a way to finally claim
my power.

As I tugged on the remnants of my
Santa Claus sweater, I looked out the window again. In fact, I
leaned right out of it and turned my head to the left and right
looking for a way down.

Because yes, that's right, I was going
to break out of here. I was going to head back to town, and I was
going to find my grandmother. Even though Jacob had been
unbelievably kind in saving me and all, I wasn't ready to just
abandon a member of my own family. His agency, or whoever he worked
for, might be trying to find my granny, but I knew my house and I
knew her. I would be better suited to do the job myself.

As I finally latched eyes on a storm
pipe and leaned out to grab a hand on it, a sudden pang of guilt
stabbed through me.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I
asked myself through a stilted breath. “Jacob is right; you might
be more of a liability than a help.”

As if in response to my own question,
I shook my head vigorously. I couldn't keep on thinking like that.
I couldn't keep second-guessing myself. If I wanted to be a
powerful witch, it was time to bury the naysayers and claim what I
could.

So with that rather reckless thought
rocketing around my mind, I climbed down from a third-floor window
for the second time that day.

Chapter 18

Maybe it was the fact it wasn't
raining out here, or there was no gale to try to rip at my clothes,
but I made it down the storm pipe in good time and without once
slipping and falling to my death. By the time I jumped down onto
the soft grass by the side of the house, I was smiling. Because
hey, I was more than a little proud at my epic feat. I may not have
just walked straight through a door or blown up a demon with
nothing more than a spoon and a jar full of magic, but I had scaled
down the side of a building in a ripped Santa Claus
sweater.

I looked up, took a rattling sniff,
and faced the clouds above me. Though the storm had been tame
minutes before, in those few moments of climbing down the storm
pipe it had changed.

My forehead crumpled up in confusion.
I watched as the clouds grew darker in a flash, as a wind whipped
up from nowhere, and as a trail of drizzle started to blow through
the garden.

Storms didn't move that fast, right?
More to the point, as I looked off to the horizon in the distance,
I noted something far more worrying; all the storm's wrath seemed
to be concentrated on one point: right above me.

It had been the same with my house;
the storm had been at its most ferocious right above our yard, and
had tapered off dramatically the second we were out of the
gate.

“Right,” I said in a low and hesitant
voice, “you really are after me, aren't you?”

The storm answered with a clap of
thunder somewhere off in the hills behind the house.

I took that as a reason to run for my
truck, gun the engine, and try my hardest to finally end this
situation.

I didn't get very far. Though I had
been certain that I had been quiet enough not to draw Jacob's
attention to my get-away plan, I suddenly turned to see a shadow
emerge from somewhere close to a birch tree by my side.

Frowning, I instantly
realized it was no
bunny rabbit or stray dog. The reason I was sure it wasn't a
woodland creature or an innocent barnyard animal was that I was
pretty sure it was holding a sword. Yes, that's right, a big black
sword with fancy gold trimming.

My eyes bulged at the sight of it. A
strike of lightning erupted from cloud to cloud above me, and the
burst of light appeared to concentrate along that blade, showcasing
just how sharp and ready to stab someone it was.

I backed off. As I did, a truly cold
sensation passed across my middle and back.

Then I saw it, or rather, I felt it
first.

My ankle and then my neck. A sudden
pressure as if the wind itself had found a way to wrap around me
and squeeze.

Clutching my own fingers to my neck, I
started to cough and splutter.

Then the skeleton walked around the
tree, its body appearing out of the bark and leaves.

Oh
... dear.

Obviously it had followed us. Or maybe
it was a friend of the guy my grandmother had trapped in the
kitchen, and it was here to settle its brother’s debts.

I put my hands up as if I were ready
to reason with it, then I stopped.

It was a blasted skeleton holding a
huge sword; I really doubted it was going to listen to
diplomacy.

So there was only one thing for
it
– I had
to scream loud enough above the storm to get Jacob's attention.
Then my knight in a blue tie could come out and save
me....

Even though the skeleton took that
exact moment to open its jaw and let out a silent but still
terrifying scream, I didn't follow it up with one of my
own.

It stalked forward towards
me.

I backed off, my shoulders and
hands brushing up against the brick of the house behind me. It was
warm
to the
touch. Despite the cold and blustery day, it had its own heat
trapped within. Because it was magic.

This whole damn place was magic, and
more than that, it was a freaking safe house. Jacob had told me
that, and I'd very much felt it. The sense of security I got from
being inside was almost addictive.

Yet it couldn't be all that safe;
there was a skeleton with a sword stalking me, after
all.

I still hadn't screamed. I still
hadn't shouted out to Jacob to come and save me yet again. I just
watched in pure terror as that eyeless, fleshless creature turned
its head to the side, opened its jaw again, and let off another
silent scream. It did not have vocal chords, so it could not yell
or shout or curse. But what it did was so much more terrifying. It
was just the action of its jaw dropping in a sudden violent move,
its head jerking forward, and that eyeless face staring my
way.

Just the effect of it. Just the
show.

Well I understood the importance of a
good show. Because, god damn it, I was an influence
witch.

I pulled up one sleeve and used
everything I had, every ounce of training, to command my fear to
stop.

If I wanted to save my grandmother,
then I would have to get through more than a just a magical
skeleton.

Perhaps it understood that I was going
to fight, and it immediately brought its sword up, lunging
forward.

I ducked back, dropping to my knees,
and rolling out of its way. Though I managed to doge it, just, it
was the most ungainly, least appealing action move you could
imagine. I was a mess of limbs, gritted teeth, and sweaty brow. Yet
it worked, and that was all that really mattered.

Punching to my feet, scrabbling until
I got my balance back, I ran deeper into the garden.

I had no idea what I intended to do. I
could hardly sit this fellow down and subtly change the small
details of his life until the influence they had on him was such
that he gave up trying to kill me and wandered home. My type of
magic took time, and I really, really didn't have that.

Desperate, my breath shallow and
trapped in my chest, I stumbled forward.

Of course it started to rain at that
point. And by rain, I meant a downpour.

With a single crack of thunder and a
flash of lightning, the heavens opened up. Or considering my day,
hell opened up instead.

I knew instinctively that the rain
would bring with it more enemies. I could feel the magical tension
in the air. It wrapped around my bones like that skeleton's hand
had curled around my throat.

Batting at my neck, trying to chase
off the sensation of its grip, I very much tried to
think.

I didn't get the opportunity.
Something slammed into my back, knocking me to the
ground.

Winded, gasping for breath, I slammed
into the muddy grass.

Then I heard a sound like a sharp,
sharp sword being drawn back.

I waited.

I waited longer.

At no point was I stabbed through the
back and skewered into the garden bed.

Slowly I turned around.

The skeleton was standing above me,
its sword raised above its head, ready to slam right through me at
any second.

I watched it. I didn't breathe, I
didn't scream, and I sure as hell didn't suddenly figure out how I
could defeat it. I just lay there as the rain drained over my face
and clothes, freezing me to the core.

In that moment, time stretched. I did
not notice it at first, then I saw the rain slow down, I saw the
leaves in the tree behind the skeleton suddenly slow their jerking
movements until they sat completely still.

My eyes grew wide. I moved my head up
to see the clouds above; they were so still they could have been a
painting.

It was no trick of the mind. And I
really didn't think the skeleton had just stabbed me and this
slowed-down world was my version of the afterlife; I knew what was
happening.

A witch's version of bullet time. I'd
read about it, but hell, I'd never once experienced it before
today.