Spellcaster, p.4
Spellcaster, page 4
Jenna always had our backs, while also strongly encouraging us to stand on our own two feet. As the oldest, she was a typical type A personality, practical, driven, and super successful in every endeavor. As the baby, I was more of the dreamy crystal collector, but the drive was there now. I wanted Weatherstone, and I would fight for it.
“Because this story involves Mom’s history, I actually have no idea what decision she’ll make,” I admitted honestly.
“She’s usually the more flexible parent,” Jensen agreed, “but you’re right about this being a trigger for her.”
Trevor ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. “Which means we have no idea how this is going to play out.”
Alice hugged me suddenly, it was a fierce, firm hug that had me settling against her briefly, soaking up the comfort. “We’ll fight with you, Pais,” she whispered. “Even if Dad comes back ready to pack your bags and drag you out of this dorm.”
“Speaking of leaving the dorm,” Jenna said quickly, glancing at her watch. “It’s almost time for the welcome ceremony. We should head to the assembly hall if we want decent seats.”
Trevor snorted, a fraction of his anger fading as he raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re the only nerd who wants decent seats in assembly. Come on, Jen. You’ve got to learn to relax.”
Her glare could have melted the polar ice caps, and Trevor was lucky Morris wasn’t here to throw down. “I’ll have you know that many students like to sit in the prime positions. Just because you want to be the class clown at the back of the room doesn’t mean it’s universal.”
Trevor’s gaze caught on mine, and he shook his head, lips curving into a smirk. He loved all of us equally, but giving Jenna shit was a favorite pastime of his. I secretly thought she enjoyed it too.
“Morris is going to eat you one day,” I warned him, and it was Jenna’s turn to snort.
“Morris doesn’t eat trash.”
Trevor slammed his hand against his chest, as if mortally wounded. “I’ll have you know, that many a witch has eaten—”
“Shut up,” Alice broke through, voice pitched higher than usual. “We do not need details about your overactive sex life. My goddess.”
Trevor just laughed, enjoying himself immensely, and I was happy to see his annoying personality return. He was always there with his sarcasm and lack of giving a shit. Meanwhile, you’d catch me constantly telling everyone no worries, which was a blatant lie—all I had were worries. Especially today.
“Don’t stress,” Jensen whispered, nudging me. “It’s going to work out. I can feel it.”
I wanted to trust him, but this was a situation none of us had dealt with before. “Let’s go to the ceremony. I need a distraction.”
None of my siblings were in their uniforms, so I didn’t change out of my jeans and hoodie, enjoying my final hours of comfort. It felt weird to leave the room with nothing, but I didn’t have a phone or computer, and there was no need for books and pens today.
Alice linked her arm with mine. “We’ll show you the quickest way back to Writworth.”
By we, she meant Jenna, who was in charge, of course—none of us would fight for the alpha position. In our family, there was a hierarchy based on both birth and power, and we pretty much stuck with it.
She took a right turn into another dorm hall with light golden carpets. The walls were a cream-colored sun pattern and the doors held hues of gold as well. “Wow, this is as nice as Florence,” I noted, looking around as my shoes sank into the thick pile. There was a calming element to this hall, and I felt the tension ease in my chest.
“This is Aura Hall,” Jenna said. “Our rooms are just down there, so your dorm is close.”
“And Ember is over there,” Jensen added quickly. He pointed in the opposite direction we walked. “That’s where Trev and I will be. You know our room numbers, and if you ever need us, just come running.”
Pressing my lips together, I managed not to laugh at how they’d already formed my unofficial security detail. It was annoying but sweet, and I was well used to it. “I’ve missed you bossy assholes over the last few years.”
Trevor huffed out a laugh. “Don’t hit us with sentimental words like that, sis, we’re all on the verge of tears.”
They weren’t but they were smiling, and that felt almost the same.
We weren’t the only students heading for assembly, and as my siblings closed around me, a few curious glances shot our way. As frustrating as it was to get the youngest sibling treatment—Weatherstone was supposed to be my first real chance for independence and to find my own power—I’d take it if the alternative was staying home for another couple of years and delaying my life.
“I won’t go looking for trouble,” I reminded them, “and I have a pretty good head for danger. It’s going to be okay.”
They didn’t argue, but looks were exchanged between Trevor and Jenna, and I sighed internally. I knew that look, and just like with Dad when he made a decision and dug his heels in stubbornly, those two were the same.
In silence, we passed another intersecting hallway, and for the first time there was a barrier. A black curtain cordoned it off from Aura, as if they were afraid a little sunshine was about to infiltrate their darkness.
As we moved closer, I shifted my position for a better look, hoping to confirm what hall it was. Before I could see anything, the curtain parted, giving me the briefest glimpse of very dark walls and carpet.
The others weren’t paying attention as two students emerged, but for the briefest moment my body went cold and then so blazingly hot that I was helplessly fighting flames. My first indication that this wasn’t just a random encounter with students was when my brothers ground to a halt, and both shifted in front of me.
Dread settled in my gut as I attempted to see around Jensen’s broad shoulders.
“Don’t bring your blood oath here, Kingston,” Trevor rasped. “We have no beef with you.”
My world stopped. The tingles of energy down my spine ceased, and there was not a single sound. But I hadn’t mistaken what my brother said. Trevor had felt his power and he knew who blocked our path.
Kingston.
Logan Kingston.
Fuck.
Chapter 6
I’d barely been at Weatherstone for two hours and I’d already screwed up the part where I promised Dad I’d stay away from Logan Kingston. Not that this was my fault; it was the fault of the asshole who’d stopped us in the hall. An asshole I had no interest in seeing.
Liar.
There were times I wanted to tell my inner voice to fuck off, because I wasn’t about the truth right now. This was about staying at Weatherstone, and more importantly, staying alive.
The spellcaster’s laughter was a delicious rumble, but there was no amusement. “Hallistars, always so arrogant.” His voice was as deep as his laughter, with a slight accent that I couldn’t place. Ms. White had said he was transferring in from Italy, but there was more than one country in that timbre. “Why do you hide your youngest? Where is my best friend, Paisley Hallistar?”
His voice lowered over best friend, leaving trickles of unease to settle in my gut. It took real talent to make pleasant words sound like a threat. It wasn’t a skill I possessed, and even as he terrified me, I had to admire his work.
Needing to know what I was up against, and about done with my brothers’ posturing, I ducked between them before they could stop me. With no more barriers between us, my gaze ended up locking onto a set of piercing green eyes. The color was so light it was almost arctic, teaming perfectly with the chill in his expression as he stared me down. Swallowing roughly, all my fighting words died on my tongue.
The goddesses had let me down.
Logan Kingston had not developed a beer gut, crooked nose, or acne.
He was glorious. Absolutely glorious, and completely terrifying.
Taller than my brothers, he towered over the five of us with golden skin and artfully tousled hair that was just a shade lighter than black. A slight smirk played around the edge of lips that were lush but decidedly masculine, and once again there was no corresponding humor in his flat expression.
Realizing he was examining me as closely as I was him, I forced myself to stop running my gaze over his unfortunate perfection and focused on the giant behind him.
It spoke a lot of Logan that I hadn’t even noticed his friend until now. A friend who was at least six feet six, with skin a few shades lighter than his buzzed dark brown hair, and built like a linebacker. He hadn’t said a word, appearing both relaxed and neutral, but there was a coiled energy about him that told me if needed, he could turn from neutral to deadly in a heartbeat.
These warlocks exuded a darkly menacing aura, hidden under the guise of neutral expressions.
“What do you want, best friend?” I managed to find my tongue, faking a bright smile. The air was electric between us. I had no idea what the battle was, or who would draw the first blood, but it was a battle all the same. “We’re just heading for the welcome ceremony.”
He didn’t move closer, but I felt crowded as his gaze narrowed. “I have everything I want, Paisley Hallistar.” His repeated use of my full name was crashing into my system, sending it fucking haywire. Bastard was aware of it too, if that knowing smirk was any indication. “Don’t you remember our last days?”
Swallowing hard, it was a real effort to keep my voice neutral. “I don’t remember you,” I said flatly. “I was only four when we were—”
“Torn apart?” he suggested. I found those words odd, and that heat in my veins surged again; my cheeks had better not look as flushed as I felt.
His friend placed his giant hand on Logan’s shoulder, and for the mildest of reprieves I wasn’t trapped in that gaze. “It’s time for assembly,” Giant said, words clipped as if he talked only when necessary.
An unspoken message passed between them, and I could feel how tense my siblings were around me, but no one broke the silence, until Logan returned his icy, penetrating stare to me. “See you soon, Precious.”
Precious? Did that fuckwit of a spellcaster just call me—?
“What the fuck?” Trevor growled, swiping a hand through his dark hair until it stood up on end. “We should just kill him now and get it over with.”
Jenna made a noise that sounded like shock but could have been horror. “Trev! What the Hel is wrong with you. You can’t threaten warlocks like that, you’ll end up in prison.”
At that point, Trevor didn’t really appear to give a shit, but he also didn’t follow Logan and Giant, who were already halfway down the hall, filling the space between the walls with their broad shoulders.
Meanwhile, I was in the midst of a mini panic attack because it was very clear who had drawn the first blood, and he’d done so with polite conversation.
Jensen looked almost as pissed as Trevor. “That asshole was waiting for us. How did he know we were coming along at that moment?”
“Spellcaster,” I reminded them, my voice hollow. “They’re in touch with earth magic and can read the energy of others. The five of us leave a distinct essence behind.”
Alice nodded, looking pale as she swallowed roughly. “She’s right.” Her focus turned to me, blocking out the others. “Are you okay, sis? That felt a little confrontational.” Her empathy was second to none as she picked through the vibes of the meeting.
Confrontational and deeply unnerving. “It felt like a threat,” I murmured, wondering if I was losing my mind. “Why is he focused on me? This is a family vendetta, and yet . . . that felt . . .”
“Personal,” Trevor snarled, flames dancing in his eyes. “Which is exactly why we should kill him.”
Jenna shot a worried gaze around, but no one paid us any attention. “He was solely focused on you,” she said, the blue of her eyes darkening. We all had Hallistar blue eyes, in varying shades. I wondered if mine were as dark as my siblings’ right now.
“Too focused.” Trevor was getting more and more worked up. “Of course the bastard would be six feet five and built like a brick shithouse.”
“With an even bigger friend,” Jensen reminded him.
Trevor breathed deeply through his nose. “I can still take him, don’t fucking worry about it.”
Before I could advise him to absolutely leave that terrifying warlock alone, Jensen slapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve got me, bro. We’ll deal with him together.”
I was surrounded by idiots.
“No!” Jenna snapped. “Absolutely no one is dealing with him. We will ignore the Kingston in the school. We will not provoke a spellcaster. Are you two insane?”
With that, she got us moving again, because we were really going to be late for the assembly. My watch told me it was nearing 5:00 p.m.
“Why did he move back now?” I asked, my brain stuck in a loop of Logan. Now that I had his grown-up face to go with the name, I was finding it harder to block him from my thoughts. “Dad thinks it might be because we’re all in school here. Logan and his father can deal with us in one place.”
No one had an answer, but their worried expressions remained as we entered the Zoo and joined the fray of students heading to Writworth. We turned left into a hall and took a set of stairs two floors up to classrooms, their doors open to give me a glimpse of desks and paraphernalia for spellwork. The scent of yarrow and thyme hit us as we passed a room with longer desks and candles set up in pentacles. An apothecary classroom.
The assembly hall was at the end of this row, and when we entered the vast room, noise surrounded us. I couldn’t see Logan and his friend anywhere. In fact, there was no one in this room I knew outside of my family. None of my classmates from secondary had made it into Weatherstone, either due to a lack of power bloom or because they’d tested into another college. My best friends, Trina Creston and Olivia Turn, were going to Wicca State, in California.
We’d promised to keep in touch, but the odds were that after a few months the calls would become fewer and further between. College was where lifelong bonds were created in the magical world, because this was where we found our covens. Most of the Weatherstone students would end up in the top covens as well.
As damn depressing as it was, the hierarchy existed for a reason, and it was all about power. Power and connections.
Jenna led us to the front, scowling at Trevor when the first few rows were already filled. We ended up in the fourth back, and my brothers, still riled up, looked like they’d kill the next witch or warlock to look sideways at us.
“Calm,” Alice whispered, placing her hand on their arms—she’d sat between them to settle their ire. “We’re all upset, but we need to get it together. Trev, you’re two seconds from starting a fire with Jensen fanning the flames.”
Trevor turned to glower at her, but Alice was just too sweet. “Okay, fine,” he groaned. “You’re right. I just . . . I don’t like that guy. He’s not to be trusted.”
As he said that, his flinty eyes met mine. “Zero percent trust here,” I said, holding my hands up to profess my innocence. “Actually, is there a less than zero figure I can use? Because that’s where I’m at. He’s clearly an asshole, and I prefer to spend my time around people with souls.”
A devastatingly gorgeous, broken asshole.
Trevor held my gaze for a few seconds, before he finally relaxed. “We’ll see,” I heard him mutter, as he turned to face the front.
As the hall grew crowded with witches and warlocks, the college faculty filed onto the stage to sit in a long row off to the side. There were thirty at least, but no sign of Dad, who must not have returned from Mom yet, allowing me the illusion of being a college student a little longer.
The noise of the room died off when Headmaster Gregor stepped up to the small podium on the stage. I’d seen photos of him in the Weatherstone brochure, and he looked exactly as I’d expected: a small, wiry man in his sixties with dark skin and a full head of graying hair. He pushed his thin-framed glasses up on his long nose and swept his gaze across the hundreds of students in the hall.
“Welcome,” he said, voice clear and echoing, his magic amplifying the sound so we all could hear. “Welcome to the new year of Weatherstone. I’m pleased to see so many strong magical families returning, and an exemplary influx of freshman.” He straightened his orange tweed jacket, and if I hadn’t known he was a powerful necromancer, I’d think he was a librarian with how bookish he presented. “Weatherstone will be the home where you find your affinity and coven. Don’t waste your time here, use these years to build on your natural gifts and form magical alliances. For you’ll need these in the future.”
Alliances were everything in our world. Weatherstone gave you the connections you needed to have a future. I knew my dad would never have made it as a professor here without having attended first. Every single professor here was once a student.
“Students need to familiarize themselves with our rules,” Headmaster Gregor continued. “They’re in your welcome pack, and posted in the office. More importantly, we must reiterate that the safety of our students is our priority. If you have an issue, see one of your professors. Do not take magic into your own hands. The energy we are blessed with is volatile, and in your young ages I know it can be hard to resist fighting back, but there’s always a diplomatic solution. We have zero tolerance for using attack spells on classmates. Keep that in mind.”
“Logan better keep that in fucking mind,” Trevor grumbled under his breath.
I forced my lips together to prevent the snort of laughter emerging. My brother was the epitome of volatile energy, and I really hoped he didn’t get himself kicked out this year.
Or killed.
Headmaster Gregor continued with a few more welcoming notes, and then waved his hands to dismiss us with tingles of his dark energy. I shivered at the touch of necromancy, even though he’d done nothing except project his natural power. “We’ve prepared a feast for you all, as a welcome. Here’s to the best magical year.”
