“Tell me about this whole political movement thing again.” She smiled wide.
“Please.” I sighed. “I’d love to forget about that.”
“No,” she snapped, glancing quickly at the bolt of black Jacquard in the corner. “I think I’ll make me a fine pair of pants from that stuff.”
“Go for it,” I said, looking at the fabric. “There looks to be plenty to spare.”
“Now, about that whole political movement thing.” She smiled, refusing to let it die. “Has that ever happened before?”
“Not to my knowledge,” I replied. “I mean, when I was a teenager, my friends and I used to talk about going out into the world and what it might be like to live somewhere else, somewhere not governed by the magic council, but it never became an uprising or anything.”
“You’re a pioneer!” Babbs gasped after a few minutes of silent thought. “You’re a freaking pioneer. You’re like Davy Crockett!”
“Who?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter. It just means you’re awesome! This is like . . . a big deal.”
“No,” I said. “That’s exactly what I don’t want. I don’t want it to be a big deal. I want to forget about it.”
In all the sleepless nights I’d spent before leaving my home, I never once imagined anything like this. I couldn’t imagine anyone other than my parents even caring about what I did or where I went. And I certainly never imagined that my actions would inspire anyone. I mean, have you ever heard anything so ridiculous in your life?
“I don’t know,” I finally said. “Let’s just not talk about it. At least not right this minute. We’ve got to get this dress sewn for tomorrow.”
“Gasp!” Babbs literally said the word while gasping. “Tomorrow is the practice!”
“Yes,” I replied. “We need it to be as close to perfect as we can get.”
I know what you’re thinking. What kind of fashion show has a practice runway? Well, none, really. At least, not until now. As it turns out, this year’s Atlanta Fashion Week was sponsored by none other than Adrian Chang, owner of one of the biggest tech firms in the world. It seemed Adrian was outfitting each and every runway with its own one-of-a-kind tech. What does that mean? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that because this was brand-new technology, we were being given time to see it in action before the big night.
Not that I was complaining. This was certainly the biggest thing my still-new career had ever seen, and as you can imagine, I was willing to take any chance I could to get near that runway. Heck, this might be the only time I get an opportunity like this, and I wanted to savor every moment.
“What are you doing?” I asked as Babbs leapt to her feet.
“Background music, darling.” She smiled widely, placing her phone on a large speaker deck and firing up a little Wilson Phillips. “Ahh. Nothing like a love-struck eighties gal, am I right?”
“Sure.” I grinned, barely familiar with the song.
Growing up in a place like Enchanted Lake meant I’d missed out on things like music, movies, and television. Sure, we had theaters and things, but they weren’t the same kind you’d find in the mortal realm. Where I’m from, a weekend out meant following your friends to a mountain top to see which spell could bring the stars closest without setting something on fire.
Movie theaters were more for the older set. They played memories, not movies. It was in a movie theater I got to watch my parents meet for the first time. Though the movie played a little differently depending on whose memories they were accessing. My mom’s version always played out a little sweeter, a little slower than my dad’s.
“How do we feel about a large hat?” Babbs asked, her eyes growing wide.
“We feel as though it would be overkill,” I replied.
Babbs was, if nothing else, a risk-taker, and I loved her for that. Really, I did. Her imagination and vison knew no bounds. Even though it was my design, it was she who’d first suggested we use purple velvet for the floor-length jacket that landed us on the Buckhead Best-Dressed list. Left to my own devices, I may have chosen something a bit safer, but not Babbs. For her, there was no such thing as not taking a chance.
“We’ll see.” She gave a coy smile, then began stitching the lower hem of Elle’s finale look. I could feel my heart racing as I pictured her in it. As I watched her walk that walk. I was practically giddy with excitement. But then, as it usually does, the world knocked me right off that pedestal.
“Hello,” Pascal said, appearing beside me.
“Pascal!” Babbs leapt to her feet. “Hey! What’s up?”
“I’ve just come from Enchanted Lake and I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“Really?” I swallowed hard, imagining a million different kinds of magical tragedy, each one worse than the one before it. “What? Is it dad?”
“It’s the Council,” he replied, his face void of emotion. “I’m afraid your position as a revolutionary is being met with opposition from a few council members.”
“Opposition . . .” I muttered. “The face of a revolution? No, no, no. I’m not the face of anything.”
“Your father is holding strong to his position, siding with The Vangarde.” Pascal shook his head.
“The Vangarde?” I asked, wholly unfamiliar with the term.
“The group of young witches and warlocks who seek to leave behind the magical realm, the group you inspired—”
“I don’t know how many ways I can say it,” I snapped. “I’m not trying to inspire anyone. I just want to live my life. To be free.”
“Yes,” Pascal replied. “And you’ve done it. You’ve left your past behind and created a new future. Like it or not, that is the formula to inspire. That is the beginning of a groundswell.”
I could barely breathe. I’d left that behind. I’d even managed to find a small community of witches and magic right there in the middle if the big city, our own small town. And now . . .
“What about my father?” I asked. “You said he is being met with opposition. Is he okay?”
“Your father is the most powerful warlock in existence. He will be fine. There’s just a bit of pushback. A few of the other council members are less likely to embrace a new school of thought. To them, history and tradition are things to be cherished, not ignored.”
“Cherish them all day,” I answered. “Respect tradition all you want. I’m not saying it’s not noble. I’m just saying it isn’t for me.”
“That isn’t how tradition works, though, is it?” he asked. “If it could be picked and chosen, then it wouldn’t be tradition anymore.”
He was right. I knew it. And I loved my people, I truly did. Being a witch was an amazing thing. It taught me many lessons, most of which I was sure couldn’t have been learned anywhere else. But did that mean I had to give up my freedom, my choices? Was the past so important that it stopped me from having a future?
“No,” I muttered, refusing to believe that. “I’m going to live my life. The life I want, history be damned!”
3
The morning sunlight streamed in across my room, waking me from a dream I couldn’t quite remember, though I was sure it was a good one. Today was a new day, one I was going to live to the fullest no matter what kind of drama tried to seek me out. Enchanted Lake was a distant memory and I was going to keep it that way. Besides, I had a runway to get to.
“Hey,” he said, opening the bathroom door and stepping out amid a cloud of thick steam. His perfectly sculpted body caught the light, his wet olive-toned skin shimmering as though it were covered in dusted crystal. “Did I wake you?” He wrapped a towel around his waist.
Nicco Marks was the living definition of the perfect man, with a body that looked like it had been carved from living marble and a voice so deep, so audibly intoxicating, that even the simplest of phrases could melt my heart. Oh . . . and he was a werewolf. At least partially, at least during the full moon . . .
We’d grown up together in Enchanted Lake, though we’d nev
er been anything other than casual acquaintances. That is, until two days before I left the magical realm and headed out to chase my dreams. It was under the bright sky of a full moon when I found Nicco lying on the ground. At first I wasn’t sure what to make of him. I mean, sure, I’d seen people sleeping before, and I’d picked more than a few of my friends up off the ground after a night of drinking, but there was something about the way he was lying there that struck me as odd.
So I did the only logical thing. I cast a spell to put him back in his bed. At least, that’s the spell I thought I cast. Turns out I was a little off my game that night. Yes, I’d been drinking . . . thanks for asking. As you can imagine, getting home to find a super-hot guy asleep in my bed startled me a little, which in turn woke Nicco.
Then it happened. Quickly and without warning, Nicco imprinted on me. His eyes opened, fixed onto mine, and then . . . flashed a bright green, or at least that’s how I remember it.
Like I said, Nicco is half-werewolf. And yeah, I’d heard of the whole imprinting thing before, but honestly, I’d had very little experience with the lycanthrope people, and until he explained it to me, I wasn’t too sure how it worked. I quickly learned that he would love me forever, no matter what I did or said, and no matter where I went, I would feel his love.
That didn’t mean, however, that I immediately loved him back, not by a long shot. Yeah, he was hotter than eggs on a griddle, not to mention sweet as sugar, but did that mean I loved him? No.
“No,” I said, my eyes running up and down his wonderfully toned chest. “I needed to get up anyway.”
I may not have loved him, but that didn’t mean I hated him either. I mean . . . what’s to hate, right? He was sweet, kind, strong, and loyal. All of those things I knew to be one hundred percent factual. I just didn’t like the idea of being told who to love based on magic neither of us could control. I would make up my own mind about him, and not a minute before I was ready. For now, though . . . he sure was easy on the eyes.
“Good,” he said, sliding a T-shirt over his broad shoulders, then putting on a pair of faded blue jeans.
Having a werewolf-warlock hybrid love you means a few different things. Chief among them was the fact that no matter what I did or said, the furthest I could convince Nicco to sleep away from me was the pullout sofa in our living room. And even then, I was pretty sure he crept into my room a few times each night to check on me. Not that it was a bad thing. Honestly, it went pretty far toward making me feel safe in a world I wasn’t completely used to.
“What are you up to today?” he asked.
“I have that practice runway show,” I replied, already knowing the answer to my next question. “And you?”
“Hard to say . . .” He smiled back, his oh-so-cute dimples framing his chiseled cheek bones.
He was lying . . . or he wasn’t. The truth was I had no idea how Nicco spent his days. The only thing I knew was that I could feel him with me no matter where I went. Almost as if he was watching me. But surely, he wasn’t watching me, right? I mean . . . what about the creep factor there? Just the image of anyone staring down at me from up in a tree while I stitched fabric together and threaded needles made my skin crawl. Even if that guy was one of the hottest people in any realm.
No, he couldn’t be doing that. I refused to believe it. Though something deep inside me told me he probably was watching me. Why can’t things ever just be simple? Why can’t the good guys just be the good guys? Why all this other crap?
“All right.” He smiled, heading for the door. “I guess I’ll see you later. I’ll bring lunch.”
“You don’t have to—” He shut the door behind him.
A little while later . . .
No one likes traffic jams, I know that. But they really irritated me. Blame the luxury of growing up in a place that didn’t really use automobiles, I guess. Whatever the reason, though, just sitting there with my foot pressed against a brake pedal really got under my skin. I took a deep cleansing breath, trying my best to remember the promise I’d made myself.
“Today is a good day,” I whispered.
“Yes, it is!” Babbs said from the passenger seat. “We finally get to see what all the fuss is about. I mean . . . it’s a runway. How technologically advanced could it be?”
“I don’t know,” I answered as the traffic finally broke free.
A short time later, I found myself parking outside the massive Mercedes Benz Stadium. It was gorgeous, to say the least, as I stepped inside and saw the star-shaped runway spilling out in front of me.
“Wow!” Babbs said, her short blonde hair catching one of the spotlights and reflecting back in my eyes.
“I know . . .” I said. “I’ve never seen a runway like this!”
“I bet no one has!”
My best friend and I headed backstage where we were supposed to meet Elle. I could finally see her walk in the dress. The one I’d spent so long working on, the one Babbs and I stayed up all night making sure looked perfect from every angle.
“All right,” I said, zipping the flowing gown up the back. “It’s time to walk.” Elle looked like a dream. Her long curvy frame filled the dress to absolute perfection with every step.
“Get ready!” I heard a voice call from behind me.
I turned to see a man standing with his arms folded over his chest. A navy-blue blazer hugged his large frame as he grinned at me.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Oh.” He smiled, then stepped closer. “Forgive me. My name is Adrian Chang. I’m sponsoring this show.”
“Oh,” I said, finally able to put a face to the name. “Of course. Mr. Chang. Nice to meet you.”
“And you.” He smiled. “I hope you—”
“I’m Babbs!” my friend interjected. “Babbs Mcghee!” She practically beamed with excitement, which for Babbs, was nothing much out of the ordinary. For as long as I’d known her, she was able to get fired up and excited at even the simplest things. I guess I should have expected her to be happy to meet Adrian. And I guess it didn’t really hurt that he was very handsome. You know . . . in that salt-and-pepper goatee kind of way.
“He’s cute, right?” Babbs nudged me. “Like a professor . . . and I’m the student.”
“Babbs!” I bit my lip, whispering to her in a low breath. “Focus!”
“I hope you like what you see,” Adrian said.
“We do,” Babbs replied, a doe-eyed look on her face.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Adrian said, walking to the edge of the runway where a small control booth sat. He positioned himself in front of the screen and pressed a small button. Suddenly, the lights went low, music filled the air, and the runway began pulsating with electric neon lights of every color and shape. It was stunning, really. I wish you could have seen it.
“Wow!” I said, turning to Elle and giving her the go-ahead.
Like a force to be reckoned with, Elle began strutting down the runway, her signature stomp echoing through the large stadium. I watched in awe as my garment came to life on her body, moving like a liquid dream ready to be awoken. It was perfect, and now the entire world would see it walk next to some of the biggest names in fashion. It was everything I’d dreamt of and more.
I looked to Adrian, and he gave me a wicked smile, one that rubbed me in all the wrong ways, then snapped his fingers. The runway lights went crazy, pulsating faster than any light I’d ever seen. Smoke, electricity, and sizzling filled the air as the familiar smell of sulfur crept into my nose.
“This is some pretty awesome tech!” Babbs yelled out.
“Babbs . . .” My eyes widened. “This isn’t technology. This is magic.”
With my words, the entire room fell silent and dark. I could hear nothing above my breathless heart beating against my chest. What just happened?
“Illumina!” I yelled, the first bit of magic I’d cast in longer than I could remember.
Suddenly, the stadium filled with light. Adrian was gone, nowhere to be
seen. The blood-curdling sound of my best friend’s scream tore through the now-still air.
I turned to see Elle, my muse model, lying dead on the runway, my dress swirling around her as though it were alive, strangling her like a boa constrictor.
“Oh, no!” I yelled, running toward her and tearing the fabric from her body. It was no use, though. She was gone.
“Why would Adrian Chang kill our model?” Babbs asked.
“I don’t think that was Adrian,” I answered, taking a deep breath, still smelling the essence of sulfur and magic.
4
Left up to my own devices, I likely would have called on my family, or at the very least, its magic to help me through this. However, I was not left to my own devices. Only minutes after Elle took her last breath, a barrage of paramedics and police officers came bursting through the door. I was escorted away from the runway and left sitting on a small folding chair next to Babbs while they tried hopelessly to resuscitate the obviously dead model.
“This is horrible,” Babbs said. “It’s like . . . the worst kind of advertisement. Once people find out she died on the runway wearing our gown, well . . .”
“What about the guy?” I asked. “He was a warlock. I know it for sure, but I’ve never seen him.”
“Are there a lot of warlocks you don’t know?” she asked.
“Tons,” I replied. “And not just from Enchanted Lake, but from around the world. We’re just one small community.”
I watched as the two men lifted Elle’s body, placing her in a black bag and zipping it tightly before removing her from the room. A suited detective began walking toward me, his eyes fixated on mine, his gaze tightening with every step.
“My name is Robert Hamm. I’m the detective handling this case. I understand you witnessed what happened?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” Babbs chimed in quickly. “We were just outside the door, getting more clothes. When we came back in, she was lying there, just where you found her.”
Witches & Stitches Page 2
