Abducted by Magic

by Kelli McCracken

  My curiosity grew. Were they witches as well? They never said. If witches existed, did other supernatural beings exist too? They weren’t pale and the sunlight didn’t bother them so I assumed they weren’t vampires. They looked as human as me, so I didn’t suspect they were werewolves. Without the presence of wings, they couldn’t be angels or demons, or even fairies. So what did that leave? Was I looking too deeply into this?

  I laughed to myself. I couldn’t believe I was standing here having an internal debate about whether or not they were vampires or werewolves while a coven of witches decided my fate. Maybe I would wake up in a hospital and find this was all a dream.

  How could it not be? They claimed to be things that weren’t supposed to exist. Yet here we were, me with a truth spell cast on me, waiting to hear if I would have my memory wiped and be set free, or if I would be executed.

  I shivered at the thought of dying. Quinn and Roark noticed. Both placed comforting hands on my shoulders. The way their eyes roamed my body, I wondered if they felt the same intense magnetic connection I was sensing.

  “Are you okay, Katarina?” Quinn’s voice made my knees weak. I must have been shaking because he wrapped his hand around my arm again.

  Roark mirrored his movements. When I turned to look at him, he touched his hand to my cheek. “It’s the truth spell. She’s having a reaction to it.”

  “How so?” Quinn dug further.

  I didn’t miss the frown Roark gave him. “It’s a truth spell. It reveals the true words, feelings, and intentions of the person it’s affecting.”

  “I’m still not following you.”

  Roark shook his head then met my eyes. “Tell me what you’re feeling, Katarina. Let me help you.”

  My lips lifted in a smile and I touched my finger to his chest, trailing it further down his firm abs. “I can’t explain it, but I know what I’d like to feel.”

  Roark’s fingers wrapped around my wrist as I reached his waist. Part of me was dying inside from embarrassment. Another part didn’t care. I wanted him to know I thought he was sexy. Moody, but definitely sexy. And Quinn…I shifted my gaze to him, noting the way his eyes widened.

  “How is this even possible?” Quinn dragged a hand through his hair. I didn’t understand why he was so upset. Did I misread the way he felt? When did this damn spell wear off?

  “I don’t know,” Roark replied. “But we need to get her under control before one of the council members realizes what’s happening.”

  “It’s their fault,” Quinn added as he snapped his fingers in front of my face. “She wouldn’t be acting like this if—”

  Roark grunted. “Seriously? Don’t tell me you haven’t felt it too?”

  They stared at each other for the longest time, not saying a word. I didn’t understand what they were saying, but they looked hot as hell discussing it. God, what was wrong with me? I never acted this way, yet I found myself wanting to go back to their place and see which one could make my toes curl the most. Holy hell, this was bad.

  “Are you talking about the pull?” Quinn asked.

  Roark only nodded.

  “Then yes,” Quinn said. “I feel it. Are you saying you do too?”

  “Yeah,” Roark answered. “It has to be the bond. Which complicates this even more. No one has ever severed the guardian bond before death.”

  His eyes made it back to mine, his lips pressed tight. I’d rather have them pressed to mine.

  Just as I leaned in to make it happen, Quinn pulled me back. I wanted to protest, but I heard a commotion coming from the council table. Rayna made it back to her seat and the rest of the council followed, returning to their chairs. All eyes fell on us.

  “We have a verdict,” Rayna announced in a calm voice. “We find Katarina West innocent in the death of Samara Haylen.”

  For the first time since waking, I was able to breathe. I drew in a few deep breaths at the thought of being spared an execution. My relief drained me, leaving me sagging against Quinn.

  “Tomorrow, we will have the burial ceremony for Samara. We will give students, professors, and friends a chance to grieve the loss of Miss Haylen. The next day, we will hold a ceremony to transfer the powers. Then we will wipe Miss West’s memory and deliver her back to her realm.”

  “Where will she stay in the meantime?” Quinn asked as he and Roark remained close.

  Rayna glanced at me. “She will stay with you and Samara’s other guardians. Speaking of which, I know why Slade isn’t here, but where is Jax?”

  I recognized the last name she mentioned. Samara wanted me to make sure Jax knew how sorry she was. Guess that meant he was another one of her guardians. Was Slade one too? Why hadn’t Quinn or Roark told me about them?

  “Jax is…dealing with his grief,” Quinn answered.

  Rayna pursed her lips. “I see. You should inform him when the burial is. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to miss it. Until then, you are free to go. We’re releasing the human under your protection.”

  “Thank you, High Priestess.”

  Quinn motioned for me to walk between them. Both placed a hand on my back as they escorted me out of the room. We weren’t running, but I had a hard time keeping up with their pace.

  “Let’s get back to the house.” Quinn made the suggestion as soon as we passed through the doors, exiting the building.

  We didn’t get far before Roark stopped. “Should one of us go find Jax?”

  “You know just as well as I do that he won’t show up to Samara’s burial. He’s wallowing in his guilt.”

  Roark frowned. “He’s not the only one who feels responsible for Samara’s death.”

  After a moment of silence, Roark didn’t say anything else. Neither did Quinn. We resumed our journey away from the coven.

  I wasn’t sure what to say at this point. In a couple of days, all of this would be forgotten. It’s what I’d wanted since the moment I remembered Samara’s death. The news should have relieved me.

  Yet it didn’t. The thought of not seeing Quinn or Roark again made my lungs feel like a band was tightening around them. Why did I feel compelled to stay with them forever?

  Chapter 6

  ~Katarina~

  For most of my life, I had thought of death as a horrible thing. It was the end to life as we knew it. What happened beyond that point remained a mystery. Some believed in an afterlife. Some claimed we were reborn. Others had no opinion.

  Perhaps that’s why I feared dying so much. I didn’t like not knowing. It’s one of the reasons I turned my back on my heritage and the abnormal things that went along with it. I spent the last few years of my life planning every detail and always being in the know.

  My focus switched to Roark and Quinn. Each stood guard next to me, at Samara’s funeral, void of words and expressions. Their tension was palpable where their arms pressed against mine. I didn’t know if it was worry over my safety or the stress of watching their ward be one with the earth again.

  The last time I had seen Samara, she lay bleeding in my arms. Her life force slipped away with each drop of blood that splashed on the pavement. Now she was enshrouded in a gauzy white cloth, resting on a stone slab four feet off the ground. A man and woman stood close by who I assumed were her parents. Tears streamed down the woman’s face as she clutched the man’s arm.

  I didn’t need to be a witch to understand the ritual. My grandmother was a believer in all things mystical. She wasn’t a witch even though others would say she was. I could understand why the witches wanted to keep their world a secret from the humans. The cruelty and hatred that could be flung by those who didn’t understand was not lost on me.

  My grandmother was a psychic. She used tarot, tea leaves, and on occasion could access the spirits for guidance. All of these things made people afraid of her. That’s why she’d moved out of the city and chosen to live quietly on her twenty-acre farm.

  Well. It was one of two reasons. I was the other one.

  Quinn tipped his head toward
me. “Are you okay?” He swept his hand out in front of him. “If all of this is too much for you, we can leave.”

  I shook my head, meeting his concerned gaze. “I’m okay. It’s all just a little overwhelming.”

  Tears filled my eyes as I stared at Samara. My guilt still simmered below the surface. They could tell me all they wanted that there was nothing I could have done, but I would never believe it.

  She was too young to die and some asshole stole her life. For what?

  “It’s not fair. Why would someone do that to her?” I angrily swiped at the tears that fell. My frustration stemmed from their loss of Samara, for the rift between the rules, for the prejudice that was not one-sided. I could feel the hatred directed at me. Shouldn’t they be at least a little grateful that I’d saved their precious magic? Couldn’t they tell that this wasn’t easy for me either?

  “We don’t know why someone would do this, Katarina.” Quinn leaned closer to me and whispered the words. “I assure you, we will find the truth. Once you’re safe at home, we will find who killed Samara.”

  I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but all it did was increase my guilt. They should be out searching for Samara’s killer while the trail was still fresh. Instead they were stuck babysitting a human. No wonder Roark was so withdrawn from me. He probably couldn’t wait to be rid of the obligation he was honor-bound to protect when all he wanted to do was avenge his ward.

  Girls that I assumed were students stood in a semi-circle around Samara. They didn’t even try to hide their curiosity toward me. I was sure word had spread about my reason for being here. The only question was, were they told I was innocent? I definitely wasn’t going to make any friends here based on the glares I was receiving from some. A human holding the power of their coven must piss them off.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t be here. This ceremony is about Samara and I feel like I’m an unwanted distraction.”

  Roark shifted his stance as he scanned the group of girls across from us. Each of the girls dropped their gaze as soon as his eyes landed on them.

  “Ignore those girls.” The deep timbre of Roark’s voice settled over me. “Some of them weren’t kind to Samara. Jealousy runs deep in this coven. They coveted what they couldn’t have. Know the desire to claim what was hers burns inside them. They are anxious for tomorrow’s transference ceremony. All are wondering which of them will be chosen as Samara’s successor.”

  I hoped that whoever was chosen was worthy of this honor. Based on some of the conversations I overheard between Roark and Quinn, Samara wanted what was best for her people. Her legacy should carry on so her death wouldn’t be in vain.

  It was hard for me to believe a powerful magic lay within me. I had felt a hint of it when I’d remembered the night Samara died. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was here, watching over my shoulder, shaking her head at the fact that those who troubled her chose to attend her burial.

  I felt like screaming at all of them. Did they not realize that she was more than her powers? She was a person, who instead of getting help for herself, had put her coven first.

  Damn them.

  I clenched my fists at my sides. My chest rose and fell as I dragged the crisp night air into my lungs.

  “Settle down,” Roark whispered in my ear. “You can’t let them see you lose control. They think humans are weaker than them. Show them how strong you are.”

  My eyes drifted up to Roark, searching to see if the words he spoke were true. Did he believe I was strong, or was he just saying that so I didn’t blow everyone up? My pulse quickened for a different reason. The light from the moon enhanced the gray in his blue eyes. I suddenly had to remind myself to breathe.

  Look away.

  I repeated the words in my mind like a mantra to prevent myself from saying something stupid, something I couldn’t blame on the truth spell. When I glanced toward the window, I caught movement in the tree line. A man leaned against a tall oak tree. His head was bowed as if in prayer.

  He must have sensed me watching him because he slowly raised his head until his piercing gaze met mine. I almost folded in on myself at the pain, the way it radiated through me. His pain was my pain. I took a step toward him, the need to ease his suffering driving through me.

  Quinn gripped my arm and tugged me back against his side. “Do you want to leave now?”

  I looked away from the man and shook my head at Quinn.

  “No. It’s just…” How did I explain something even I didn’t understand? I felt the same draw to this man that I felt toward Quinn and Roark. “His sorrow is suffocating me.”

  “Who?” Roark questioned as he took a step in front of me, searching in the direction where I had attempted to walk.

  I glanced back to the now vacant spot. The man was no longer there.

  “I...I don’t know. He was there a moment ago.”

  Roark and Quinn exchanged a glance before Quinn addressed me. “It must have been Jax. We told him about the burial ceremony. I wish he had come forward and not hidden in the shadows.”

  Roark turned to me. “You said his sorrow was suffocating you. You felt his grief?” He then turned his attention to Quinn. “Did you feel anything? We should have been able to at least sense he was here.”

  “He must have shielded himself against us.”

  “Shouldn’t you go after him?” I wrapped my arms around myself. The lingering effects of his grief still haunted me. “He needs to know that Samara was sorry. I have no idea what for, but maybe it will bring him peace.”

  Quinn still held my arm, his thumb rubbing up and down. I wasn’t sure if he was doing it to soothe himself or me. “He’s not ready to talk right now. He needs to grieve in his own way. There is too much that needs to be done and we can’t do it without him.”

  “Why was she able to feel him?” Roark’s brows drew together in frustration.

  “It has to be the bond. He’s been in the dark as to everything that has gone on. It must have been a flaw in his spell.”

  “What bond do you keep talking about? Does it have to do with you being my temporary guardians?”

  They had mentioned something about feeling a bond last night. I’d meant to ask them about it. Well, about that and about a hundred other things, but we had arrived at their house and they had escorted me directly to the guest room, insisting I needed my rest.

  I’d ended up sleeping the entire day. I guessed they were right when they said I needed sleep.

  Quinn lifted my wrist and pushed up my sleeve, revealing the tattoo. His fingers traced the pattern. Each sweep felt like an electric current against my skin. “This isn’t just any tattoo. When Samara transferred her powers to you, the bond to her guardians also transferred. This is how we are connected. It’s how we knew she was in danger.”

  Roark took over where Quinn left off as if he sensed this conversation was difficult for him. “Each connected loop represents a guardian. This is our brotherhood bond. Unless we’re shielding ourselves, which we normally don’t do, this tattoo allows us to know what each other is thinking and feeling without needing words.” He paused as he stroked his finger on another part of the tattoo. “The circle that weaves between the loops is now you, strengthening the bond between all of us. That’s how you were able to feel Jax’s grief.”

  My gaze fell to where Quinn still held my wrist. I hoped he couldn’t feel how fast my pulse raced at his touch. But if what they said about the bond was true, he had to already know the effect he was having on me.

  That tattoo was our own personal truth spell. Was that why I felt so drawn to each of them? Would I feel the same way if Slade was here?

  “What happens to the bond when Samara’s magic is removed and my memory is wiped? Will I still feel all of you?”

  “Once the powers are gone, the bond is severed.” Quinn cleared his throat and gave one last glance at the tattoo before releasing my arm. “It should not have regenerated once Samara was gone. A new set of guardians would have
been chosen for her successor. Nothing about what’s happened is natural.”

  When the bond was severed, I would be set free. I could go back to my friends and plan our next vacation. I also had my new job to get back to...my job. Shit! How could I forget about that? I probably wouldn’t have one once this was all over.

  A growl drew my attention toward the altar. A man bent over Samara, his forehead pressed to hers. He looked like he pumped iron for a living. My body shivered when he tipped his head back and released the most heart wrenching howl.

  If I hadn’t believed in werewolves before, I did now.

  I didn’t realize that I had unconsciously clasped Roark’s hand until I felt the warmth of his palm as he gave me a reassuring squeeze. Why couldn’t it have been Quinn’s hand? He didn’t seem to mind touching me. I tried to pull away but Roark wouldn’t let go.

  Quinn approached the man and placed his hand on his shoulder. He whispered something in the man’s ear, waiting for the man to respond before returning to my side.

  The man bent back over Samara and murmured something, then pressed his lips to her head. His body shook with emotion. I felt like an intruder watching such a private moment, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

  Standing, he scrubbed his hand over his face. As he walked towards us, Roark gave a curt nod when he stopped beside him.

  Another man walked up to the altar. His head bowed as he kneeled at her side. With his hands fisted on the stone slab, his lips began to move. He might have been saying a prayer or saying a spell. Either way, I could tell he grieved deeply for her.

  Who were these men?

  As if sensing my thoughts, Quinn tipped his head, his lips inches from my ear. “The first one was her boyfriend Zander. I’m sure you’ve realized that he’s a werewolf. He blames himself for what happened to her, that he should have sensed something was wrong.”