Something Witchy This Way Comes: A Jolie Wilkins Novel

by H. P. Mallory

  But I couldn’t say I shared his excitement. I nodded and watched as he opened the door.

  “Today was a great feat, Jolie,” he said softly. “You reaffirmed everything I imagined about you. Your power is great. I have never come across someone with your abilities before.” I looked away, unable to subdue the feelings of guilt that had been plaguing me since I’d reanimated the Daywalker. I mean, I’d basically brought my enemy back to life and who knew what that meant? Who knew if he’d end up killing one of my people? Hopefully, he’d just die off again soon, since his DNA must still be missing that piece that allowed for a normal life span. I had to assume that was the case, because although I could bring the dead back to life, it wasn’t like I could correct their ailments.

  At the sound of the door closing, I realized I was alone. Well, as alone as I could be, considering that I probably had guards outside my door. There was undoubtedly also some magical force field in place that would prevent me from using my own powers. Yes, I could have checked—I could have woven a spell that would reveal the strength of the magic aligned against me, but I figured it was better to keep my magic to myself, better to keep a low profile until I knew what I was up against.

  For now, I would focus on enjoying my pseudo privacy and getting in touch with Rand. I knew I couldn’t trust our telekinetic connection—mainly because I figured that Luce would be able to breach it since Mercedes could. I decided to rely on our bond instead. I wasn’t sure what made me think it might work. I mean, I had nothing to go on because it wasn’t like I knew much about being bonded. But I also didn’t have anything else up my sleeve, and knowing how deeply connected bonded couples were, I assumed it was my best and only option.

  My hope was to use our bond to send Rand information without actually thinking the words in sentence form. If I could somehow tune him in to me so he could see what I was seeing, experience what I was experiencing, I had to imagine that he’d be able to figure out where I was and come up with some sort of plan to get me out.

  I wasn’t sure it would work, and chances were it wouldn’t, but it was worth a shot. Besides, what alternatives did I have? None.

  Wanting more privacy than the living room afforded, I walked into the bedroom, which was just as unremarkable as the rest of the house. I took a seat on the bed. The blinds were already closed, lending the room an eerie darkness.

  Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to reach out to Rand, careful not to think in words, as much as I wanted to. Thinking in terms of feelings and images was actually much more difficult than I would have guessed. After a few seconds I was no better off than when I’d started.

  I tried to bring to mind images of things that made me happy, but then I found myself transfixed on the colors of the images—the azure sky above Kinloch, the green of Christa’s eyes. When those thoughts merged into thoughts about how to spell each of those colors. I opened my eyes.

  Ugh, this is impossible! I railed back at that voice inside my head that had come up with this idea in the first place. Maybe this whole thing was just stupid! Maybe I’m just going to be stuck here for the rest of my life, however short that may be!

  Jolie, stop it! Don’t let yourself go there because you won’t be able to come back! the voice responded. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and try it again!

  That other side of me went silent, so the Tony Robbins side continued. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, right?

  Yeah, I guess.

  Then use that! Focus on images, on feelings …

  I sighed, trying to remember a situation that had brought me joy. Immediately, a memory of Rand and me lying in bed came to mind. I could see the outline of his beautiful body, and when he chuckled at something I said, I saw his dimples and could feel happiness welling up inside of me. I remembered being there in person, experiencing every bit of him.

  I shut my eyes tighter and focused on that feeling of complete love and trust between Rand and me. I focused on all those emotions that had helped to create our bond. And then I felt those feelings being reciprocated, felt heat burning within me, and suddenly all the images within my head scattered and were replaced with just one. And it was an image of me—I was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt and laughing at something silly Rand had said, shaking my head at him. I felt my hand—er, Rand’s hand—reach out and run his fingers down the line of my face, and I watched myself blush as I dropped my gaze to the floor.

  I was in Rand’s mind! We were in each other’s minds, which meant …

  It had worked! Our bond was enough.

  Now that obstacle number one—finding out whether our bond was adequate enough for us to communicate—was no longer an issue, I addressed obstacle number two—how I was going to transfer information to Rand. Swallowing hard, I decided to start easy. I began with the room around me, staring at the closet door, the bed with its brown paisley comforter, the oak nightstand, the white lamp sitting on top of it. I was trying to allow Rand to experience exactly what I was experiencing. It seemed easier to zone out on everything around me, letting my mind wander.

  Once I’d taken in everything the room had to offer, I took another deep breath and allowed my mind to go blank. I was asking Rand if he’d received any of it. At first there was nothing—no response, just the blankness of my own thoughts. But then something happened that threw me completely. The sudden smell of sea salt was thick in my nose. It was as if I were standing on the beach, watching the waves. I could even feel the mist of the ocean air stinging my cheeks, and the soft sand between my toes was so real, I had to verify that I was still wearing my shoes. I knew then that Rand must be standing on the beach at Kinloch, sending me all his sensory experiences. It was working!

  At first I just felt happy, then homesickness welled up in me and I wished more than ever before that I was standing with Rand on the shores of Kinloch at this very moment, that I could experience the beauty and tranquillity of my home, our home. I felt something rise up inside of me—hope. It was almost as if Rand were in the room, holding me and promising that everything was going to be okay. I could feel his determination, his love. He was vowing that he would find me, that he would ensure my safety.

  I realized then how truly close we were—how our love had bonded us in such a way that we could communicate without words. I felt tears starting in my eyes and I closed them tightly, running my hands across my belly as I promised our unborn child that I would see us out of this mess. I was a survivor, and now more than ever before, I was going to rely on my instincts. I was going to beat Luce at his own game. One way or another, I was going to get us back to Kinloch Kirk.

  At the sound of a knock on the front door, my nostalgia abruptly subsided, replaced by a cool sort of calm—my poker face. I stood up from where I’d been sitting on the bed and started for the living room. Taking a seat on the couch, I tried to maintain my calm facade, even though my mind was still racing with everything that had just happened.

  “Come in,” I called. It occurred to me then that Luce might have realized what was going on and had decided to put the kibosh on it.

  But when the door opened, I saw that my visitor wasn’t Luce at all. It was a woman.

  “I brought you dinner,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound particularly happy, the darkness of the night obscuring her features. But what I did notice was that her accent sounded American. And I had to hope that was a sign—that we were in the States. The sooner I could find out where “here” was, the sooner Rand could get me out.

  “Thanks,” I answered. It was obvious that she didn’t intend to step inside, so I stood up and walked toward her.

  As soon as I got a good look at her, my breath caught. It was as if every hair on my body stood at attention and I could feel energy coursing over my skin like the pitter-patter of thousands of marching ants. It’s hard to explain what exactly happened to me, but it was like I’d been struck with déjà vu. I’d never seen this girl before, but the feeling that I knew her
hit me over the head like a sack of bricks.

  Realizing I was standing there like a complete idiot, I tried to pull my attention away from her, tried to focus on something else, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop looking at her face. It was just so … familiar. And even stranger, she was staring at me the same way—neither of us saying anything, while the same energy seemed to sparkle off both of us, joining us in some sort of ethereal hug.

  “Have … have we met before?” I asked, as if my mind were an open book—and she had the power to turn to any page she wanted and read my secrets. In fact, I hadn’t even intended to ask her the question—it just sort of broached itself, with a mind of its own.

  “No.” She shook her head as if she were as much at a loss as I was, then she cleared her throat and took a step back, to put some distance between us. As soon as she backed away, the halo of energy that seemed to join us died down a bit, until it was just lightly pulsating.

  “Do you feel it too?” I asked, awed. I didn’t consider the fact that I’d completely dropped my defenses—that she was my enemy.

  She didn’t respond right away, but after a moment she shook her head emphatically. It seemed she was trying to convince herself as much as me. “No,” she said at last, then narrowed her eyes at me, pushing the plate of food closer, uncomfortable with the whole exchange. And I couldn’t really blame her. “Are you going to take this or what?”

  “Oh,” I said in surprise, and taking the plate from her, placed it on the table beside the door. I hadn’t been hungry before, and now I was even less so. No, my mind wasn’t on food. Where exactly it was, I couldn’t say. I noticed something in her eyes then that showed me that she was indeed experiencing this strange reaction too. Her reserve somewhat lifted as I approached her—some sort of surprise that was even now causing conflict in her blue eyes.

  She lifted her long curtain of light brown hair, streaked with gold, from her shoulders and secured it with a hair tie. I could suddenly see her face more clearly, even in the low light. As soon as I did, my breath caught in my throat.

  Oh my God! She … she looks like me!

  We looked so similar, we could have been sisters, and suddenly Luce’s words came back to haunt me: You’ve always been one of us. But I refused to believe for one minute that this girl was related to me. It was far more likely that she had been magicked—a ploy of Luce’s to ensure that I believed I was truly a Lurker. The thought allowed me to breathe more easily anyway.

  I knew who I was. I was Jolie Wilkins from Spokane, Washington. I’d seen plenty of pictures of my mother pregnant with me, and several photo albums documented my baby and toddler years. Furthermore, my mother was the type of person who believed in bare reality. She would never have kept something like adoption from me—she didn’t sugarcoat things.

  I am not a Lurker.

  I am not a Lurker.

  I am not a Lurker.

  I still couldn’t shake away my surprise when I focused on her face again. The more I studied her, though, the more I realized that while the resemblance was definitely there; it wasn’t uncanny. Her lips, however, were the same shape, her almond-shaped eyes were the exact shade of cornflower blue, and her pert, upturned nose hinted at the same English and Irish origins that mine did.

  “Do you need anything else?” she asked, her voice coming from deep within her throat. I could see from her eyes that she was just as shocked as I was.

  “Who are you?” I demanded.

  She swallowed hard and then took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose as she debated whether to tell me. She swallowed again. “Bryn.”

  “Are you a Daywalker?” I asked, suddenly wanting to stall her, even though I knew she wanted to leave. But I wanted to learn everything I could about her in order to further distance myself, ensuring that we had nothing in common, especially not DNA.

  No, she is a Lurker and I am the Queen of the Underworld.

  There was just something so familiar about her, and it made her somehow feel safe—like she was the only friend I had in this godforsaken place. Of course the thought was ludicrous because I didn’t know this woman from Eve, and she was as much my enemy as Luce. And that was when I returned to my original suspicion—this had to be some sort of stunt Luce was pulling to win me over.

  It was all very conniving and very smart.

  “God, no!” she said, then laughed at the very thought that she might have something in common with the descendants of vampires. “I have nothing to do with those leeches.”

  I was surprised by her indignation toward the Daywalkers. Luce had made it seem that everyone here liked one another. But apparently the Lurkers suffered from their own sense of civil discrimination. “Then you’re an Elemental?” I asked.

  She just nodded, her jaw tight and her body rigid. It was more obvious than ever that she was uncomfortable.

  “Bryn is one of our most talented Elementals,” Luce said from behind her. She jumped, surprised, then pasted a smile on her face and bowed her head in deference to him, her irritation only visible in the way her lips were pressed tightly together. He glanced down at her and smiled with obvious pride. “She is a healer and one of our finest warriors.”

  That was when I noticed her outfit—she was dressed all in black: tight, black capri stretch pants and a black sports bra. Strapped to both of her wrists were small knives, and a dagger was strapped to her right thigh. She was about my height—not exactly tall, but average size for a woman. Where I had a softer overall look, she was pure muscle. I could see it in the lines of her arms and her thighs. Her waist was minute even though she managed to have an ample bustline.

  They must be fake, I told myself. Either way, she had a figure that most women would die for. And what was even stranger, while recognizing how much she looked like me—and I didn’t particularly think of myself as a showstopper—she was beautiful. No, stunning. And she was the type of beautiful that was indisputable. She was gorgeous.

  “If you’re an Elemental,” I said, wanting desperately to understand the Lurkers and how their community worked, “why are you trained in weapons defense?” I was referring to the weapons strapped to her body. “Why are you trained in knives?”

  She was about to speak, but Luce took that opportunity from her. She gave him a look of displeasure. “One cannot always rely on magic,” he started, smiling at me as if asking how I took my tea. “Having only one defensive strategy is not much of a strategy at all, is it?”

  I gulped, realizing any defensive strategy they had was intended for use against my people. I simply nodded.

  “May I return to my training?” Bryn asked Luce, her left eyebrow raised in an expression that resembled exasperation.

  He nodded slowly, exhaling as he did.

  “We will discuss this later,” she said as she stormed away, which gave me a bit of a shock. I mean, I couldn’t imagine anyone talking to Luce that way—he just didn’t seem the type to allow it. Yet he had with her. Interesting.

  I saw now that he seemed uncomfortable, color flooding his cheeks. “She is young and very able,” he said, “though she has not yet learned how to rein in her temper.” He seemed almost apologetic.

  “She’s a healer, you said?” I asked, trying to understand just how powerful she was. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt the information would prove useful to me at some point.

  “She is one of our most powerful, yes,” Luce said, a fond smile taking hold of his mouth.

  “And yet she hasn’t been able to heal the Daywalkers,” I said.

  The smile fell off Luce’s mouth. “She has done wonders for them. She’s been able to prolong many of their lives and has saved them from an inordinate amount of pain.”

  “Hmm,” I said, sounding unimpressed.

  “My hope is that the two of you together will be able to achieve the impossible—that you will combine your abilities to heal the Daywalkers, once and for all.”

  I shook my head. “That sounds like an immensely d
ifficult task.”

  He nodded. “That it is, that it is.” But there was something in his eyes that pointed to the fact that he wasn’t used to taking no for an answer.

  I stayed silent, wanting only to return to the privacy of my quarters so I could puzzle through everything that had just happened and decide on a plan moving forward.

  “Are you settled in for the night, then?” he asked. It seemed he was intent on leaving, which was just as well because I couldn’t wait for him to go.

  I gave him a courteous nod.

  “Then I shall see you in the morning, and we will continue our tour then.”

  “Okay,” I said, surprised there was more Lurker camp to tour. The compound hadn’t seemed that large on initial inspection.

  Luce nodded and with a slight smile turned and walked away.

  Wanting only my privacy, I closed the door and exhaled deeply, my mind running wild as I wondered why Bryn had caused such an influx of bizarre feelings in me. Why did I feel like I knew her?

  Before I went to bed that night, I tried to relay some of the information I had on the Lurkers to Rand. But I quickly realized it was harder to convey memories than to transmit information about what was going on in the here and now.

  Based on the feelings of confusion that came to me through the bond, I was not successful. From what I could gather, he only received random bits and pieces of information. I decided to call it a night. Surprisingly, I actually managed to sleep. I’m not sure whether Luce had put some sort of charm on the house, the room, the bed, or me, but if he had, it worked. All that mattered was that I was able to get in some Z’s, and for that I was happy. Why? Because today was going to be a big day for me. I was determined to get more answers and pass those answers along to Rand. First and foremost, I needed to figure out where the hell I was.

  As soon as the sun pierced through the slats of the blinds, hitting me squarely in the eyes, I sat up. Throwing the bedclothes off, I stretched, reaching for my pants and shirt from the chair back beside the bed. They were the same clothes I’d worn yesterday—I’d slept in my bra and panties.