by Jayla Kane
“You’re right,” Hunter said. His voice was like shadows come to life. “But it would be stupid to go somewhere you might endanger the people you care about. It would be stupid to put yourself out there alone, too.” Because we didn’t know—Hunter and I, and soon, I was sure, Jake—whether the person that did this was fucking with me or with Jake, and if this was as far as they would take it.
What could possibly be the motive?
The more I thought about it, the only people who could’ve done this were Hunter or someone in the Society; Hunter was only a possibility because of proximity, because I was clinging to the familiar and the logical. But the same logic told me that Hunter couldn’t have come through either door and put all that stuff back the way it was from the other side—only someone who used magic could do that. Magic that was undefinable, horribly real, and unfortunately for me, unknown. I was a toddler when it came to magical knowledge; I couldn’t even read Hunter’s mind right now to verify whether I was right. But someone with power had done this.
And Hunter was right, even if he didn’t know why—couldn’t know why.
Jake was the only real protection I had.
He turned away from me and pulled out his cell phone while I slowly gathered my things. I realized I was still wearing a long t-shirt and yanked a pair of jeans on while Hunter’s back was turned, then snatched a hoodie out of Jake’s wardrobe; Hunter rasped into the phone. “She’s fine—but I don’t think she can stay here. And neither should you.”
Great. So the pair of them were now making these decisions for me. Sure enough, Hunter shoved the phone back in his pocket without saying another word and turned around to look at me. We stared at each other for a long time, and then, clear as a bell, I heard his voice in my head.
Don’t be a fucking idiot.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snapped, but he didn’t even flinch. It took me a second to realize he didn’t know I could hear him. I huffed out a breath and crossed my arms over my chest; Hunter just stared at me, unblinking. “Goddamnit, Hunter,” I snarled. “What?”
“I’ll take you to the house,” he said, and it wasn’t a question, or even an offer, really. It was a fact.
“Why? I could walk, I could go back to the office or the library—why should you, of all people—”
“I’m sorry Raven,” he said, and that stopped me cold. “Jake and I thought you were a killer. You’re not. So I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing—I almost dropped my bag, and when he saw it wobble on my shoulder, Hunter immediately reached out and took it from me, slinging it over his arm. “Jake told you?”
He nodded.
Silence. I tried to read his mind again, but nothing came through; I knew it wasn’t silent behind those eyes, though. The voice in his head had a lot more inflection than I ever heard when he was speaking.
“When?”
“High school.” Fucking duh, I wanted to say, but I just sighed and rolled my eyes; I hadn’t thought too much about Hunter’s presence during my confession. I tried reading his mind again for more details but nope, zilch, nada. I’d just assumed Hunter was there when I finally confessed because he was Jake’s right hand, not because he’d known all along about the drama between us—I thought he was just a pile-on piece-of-shit bully like the rest.
Did this make me hate him less? I realized it did. If Christa told me someone killed her brother and wouldn’t tell her where he was buried, I would’ve been a hell of a lot meaner to them than Hunter was to me.
But did that make me trust him?
No.
“I don’t want to go to the house,” I said, gritting my teeth, but he just shrugged. “You know that place is huge—and there’s hardly anyone there, it might be easier for them to—”
“Jake is going to want you with him.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to go,” I said, and he just shrugged at me again. “I could…” What? Go home? As much anger as I had at my older sister, Hunter was right; I didn’t want to expose my family to the magical disaster I found myself embroiled in. And clearly this dorm wasn’t secure… And as much as I hated to admit it, staying in the office really didn’t appeal to me. It might be safe—particularly now that I knew there were probably some spells or some witchy shit like that cast on it—but only for Society members, and a Society member was definitely the most likely person to try and hurt me. Which left…. “Fine. I’ll go to the house.”
With a heavy sigh, I followed Hunter out of the room, my gut full of lead.
I’d only been back at night, to tend the roses where I believed Tristan’s body lay under the dirt. I hadn’t been inside since that day.
As if he could hear the worry and frustration weaving through my thoughts, Hunter gave me a quick glance over his shoulder as we locked the door that I could’ve sworn seemed for all the world like pity—or even concern.
But we were silent as we left, moving through the building and out to his truck, silent all the way through town, as I looked at my family home on the corner… Silent even when he dropped me off at the base of the long driveway, near the garage, just out of view of the front door to the Warfield mansion.
Silent as he waved to Jake, who was leaning against the brick wall until he saw me, his face contorted with worry as he pushed off with his palms and swiftly strode towards me.
Chapter Eight
Jake
“In case you’re wondering, I had nothing to do with it,” I said, forcing myself to walk—not run—over to where Raven stood. “And Hunter didn’t—”
“Do you know what happened?”
“Something bad,” I said, halting right in front of her; I had to pin my arms to my sides, make them stay still, make them obey what I knew her wishes would be. Raven definitely didn’t want me to touch her right now, no matter that I wanted nothing more than to do exactly that, fucked-up mind-meld and all. Didn’t care. But she was glaring at me—not, as she would put it, staring—her arms crossed over her chest, an expression of profound disappointment and… Fear, I realized—that was fear on her face, the wariness in her eyes. She was afraid.
And then I had to go through the whole little chat with myself all over again: don’t fucking touch her, she doesn’t want you to touch her, calm the fuck down.
“This sucks,” she said, and it broke my heart when her lip trembled. “I haven’t been inside in—”
“I know,” I said, and the urge to hold her was almost over-powering. Her gift must have clicked in at that moment—convenient timing—and she took a step back. “I wasn’t going to,” I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice, “I know you need your space. Come on. I bet you’re hungry, and Anna will be happy to see you.”
“Anna is still here?” That brightened her up a little bit, and I tried not to let it bother me that she was happier to see the cook than she was to see me.
“Of course,” I said, moving aside so she could walk next to me towards the side entrance; Mina and Lucas’s extension was all the way on the opposite end of the house, and for all I knew they still had no idea I was here. I wondered if Tristan planned to come over at some point and confront our uncle. If he had some kind of bad-ass powers I kind of wanted to be there to see it.
“Your uncle might have powers too, you know,” Raven said quietly, and I swallowed.
“You think so?”
“I guess they won’t be super-charged, or whatever, like yours are. And Tristan’s. He’ll be more like me. But he probably has some, and he’s had a lot more time to learn how to use them. Did he… Was he a member of the Society?”
“Jesus,” I muttered. “I sure as hell hope not.”
“If he was—”
“It wasn’t him,” I said sharply, vividly remembering the man that had held the belt, that had beaten Raven in front of me. I’d never forget; I had an excellent memory.
Too excellent for my tastes. Ashes in the back of my mouth, rage—“Jake!” Raven grab
bed my arm, and we both stopped in our tracks. The ground was beginning to shift under our feet, the stirrings of the earthquake I caused at Leo’s rumbling beneath us. As soon as her palm made contact with my bare skin, it stopped. You have to learn how to control that, she said, but her tone wasn’t harsh, and the warmth that radiated through her touch filled me with…
She dropped her hand. “You were right,” she said softly. “I’m hungry.”
“Anna was making biscuits earlier,” I said, still rattled by what had just happened. It took me a minute to follow her as she took the lead, opening the side door just like she’d done a million times before, years and years ago. It was easier now that she wasn’t four feet tall, and the contrast hit me hard for a second. She scowled and slid through, letting it slam in my face.
“Just like old times,” I muttered, but it really was, and in spite of her annoyance—or because of it—I laughed. We’d done this too, too often to count; sometimes I slammed it in her face, sometimes she got in first. By the time we were thirteen and our hormones were getting the best of us, I was a little gentler, but only so I could grab her hand and pull her back into the pantry for a kiss before Anna heard the door close.
Like I said—the contrast hit me hard.
When I walked through, there was no breathless dark eyed beauty waiting to gingerly press her lips against mine, our hearts beating so loud you could hear them echoing against the stone walls.
Nope. Instead, I heard Anna make a giddy sound, smiled and headed around the corner and down the short stairwell into the kitchen. Raven was giving her a big hug. I couldn’t keep the grin off of my face as I leaned against the counter and watched them, crossing my arms over my chest as if that could somehow keep Raven from feeling my happiness. It was a strange thing, to have the possibility of my secrets smeared across her psyche at any time; it was even stranger, I guess, to imagine that she couldn’t guess anyway. But I knew she couldn’t—she’d internalized all the horrible things I did, exactly as I intended, and my hatred for her—wiped completely away by five seconds in her own mind—was her reality. It made sense, but I didn’t know what to do with the feelings I had now, the vulnerability I felt when I watched her smile and be genuinely happy… Because that made me happy too.
Was I protecting her by not telling her how I felt? Or protecting myself? Was I resigned to the reality of what had happened, and how it ruined any possibility of moving forward? Or was I just too chickenshit to try harder to show her how I felt now?
I didn’t even know.
It was too much to sort out, probably forever, but definitely in that moment. And I watched her sit down at the table, Anna bringing over a plate with big happy smiles on both of their faces, and decided to just… Enjoy it. Shut the fuck up and enjoy, and not worry about why, or what would happen next, or what it would mean. I couldn’t control any of that shit at the moment anyway.
It was nice.
Anna was always here when we were kids, but as we grew older and spent more time in town, going to school, or down at Raven’s mom’s shop, I saw less of her. I probably hadn’t been in the kitchen myself in six months. I hated being here, where Lucas was fucking lurking somewhere in the halls, so as soon as I turned eighteen I made damn sure I had other places to be. And Raven—who practically grew up eating Anna’s cooking, just like me—had been here less frequently for the same reasons when we were middle schoolers, and not at all since shit went down. Anna was watching every bite she ate like a proud grandmother. You could practically hear her getting ready to burst into song. It was disgustingly wholesome and adorable.
Raven frowned over at me, and I hoped for a second that she hadn’t heard my entire inner diatribe, then remembered I was trying not to care. I shrugged at her and she returned to the plate of food in front of her, eating like she was starving. And if magic did to her half of what it did to me, she probably was.
“Master Jacob? A plate for you?”
“Please, Anna,” I said, sitting down across from Raven; I knew she wanted space. She didn’t want to be here at all, no matter how pleased she was to see Anna again. And maybe she wouldn’t have to be, if we could figure out some other way to keep her safe, but to do that we needed some time to talk and plan.
I didn’t trust the Office.
Now that I knew the Ashwood Society wielded magic, I was sure someone monitored everything that happened in that room. How could they not? And once the details from today’s events were clear to me—all I knew, given the result, was that somebody had gotten into my locked dorm room—there were going to be very few places that could be considered safe.
How did you protect the people you loved from fucking witches?
I stared down at my plate, then felt Anna’s thick fingers pat my cheek. “Eat, honey,” she said, then returned to the sink and settled against it, peppering Raven with questions as she worked on her latest masterpiece. I listened half-heartedly, chewing the delicious food and letting my mind wander over the possibilities.
Raven was absolutely correct.
If the Warfield ‘dynasty’—that would never stop being funny to me—included all of us, that meant Lucas and my father were both warlocks as well. It meant Tristan was probably dealing with a double dose, just like me; and Morgan might have some magic, too.
So what happened to my parents?
If my mother was a descendant as well, what could have killed them?
My parents died in a car wreck. I never thought there was anything suspicious about it, but Tristan did. He never believed the official story, not even the first time he heard it. Had he known? Did dad tell him about all this witch shit?
Or maybe… Had Raven’s mom?
She really did talk about it like it was a fairy tale; to the Kellers, maybe it was. A dream of power and prestige in a town that gave them neither. I’d always personally believed that if she’d shut up about her new age bullshit for five minutes and maybe wore a color besides black the old folks would have cut her a break, but she did that in defiance. Raven got her spirit from her mom, and I couldn’t put that down. It got them through. When we were kids, Raven’s mom really looked the part of the town witch, and as a teen-ager I’d just assumed it was some kind of advertising campaign for her business—and it worked. The Kellers were officially middle class, these days. When we were younger, they barely had enough to eat sometimes.
At any rate, she might know some things, and she might not; she might have told Zelle and Tris more than she told Rae and I, considering they were a little bit older, or she might not. I didn’t feel like she knew much, and that was an old protective instinct of mine; Raven and her sisters had far too much responsibility for kids their age. Sure, my parents let my uncle beat the daylights out of me every once in a while, but I was fed and had clean clothes. The elder Keller—in spite of her many good traits—kind of pissed me off sometimes when we were kids. She was selfish, to be blunt, and her daughters had to pick up the slack sometimes in ways I just… I hadn’t respected her. That was that.
Anyway. It was none of my business then, and it still wasn’t now. Raven had been quick to shut me down in middle school when I was mad that her mom disappeared for a few weeks around Christmas, leaving them all without presents one year; we had a bad fight about it. But she was right—I didn’t know what I was talking about, and my family certainly wasn’t any model of morality. And now, looking back, was it possible she was doing some weird witch shit?
She’d never gone to the Institute; she couldn’t have been a member of the Society. But she’d gone somewhere and come back with a couple of beautiful daughters.
“Jake?” Raven was watching me closely, and I realized I hadn’t touched my food in a while, my spoon hovering in mid-air. It took me three bites, and the plate was empty. Anna was looking at me too with concern, so I stood up, swept over to her and gave her another big kiss on the cheek.
“Divvil,” she bleated, but I just raised an eyebrow at Raven.
“You re
ady?”
“I have no idea,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me, and we stood up, thanking Anna again, and headed upstairs to my room.
I opened the door for Raven, closed it behind us, and immediately stuffed a towel under it before dragging the chair back over. It was a little bit stuffy, so I walked over to the windows and pulled back the heavy curtains; the entire corner of the room was windows, practically, facing back towards town, the outline of the Institute looming in the distance. The sky was crystal clear, and when I pulled the windows open chilly air raced around the room, chasing out the dust. Raven pulled out one of the other old chairs, and I turned and leaned against the window sill, considering what to say.
“Okay,” she said, her eyes still narrowed. “What’s the plan?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, wondering where to start. “Why don’t you tell me what happened? Everything. Every detail.”
So she did. I listened, my knuckles tightening as my fingernails dug into the soft wood under my hands, and at one point Raven had to tell me to calm down again; the walls were starting to shake. The response was duller here, and I wondered if it was because I was rattling the ground, so far below, or because the vibrations started in me, and were somehow just less strong when I was moving walls. A question for another time. Raven waited until I was able to concentrate on her story again, and continued describing the mouse, the sheets, the closed and locked dormitory. “So… It’s magic,” I said, and she bit her lip.
“I can’t see how else they could’ve done it, even if that still doesn’t tell me what, exactly, they did.”
