A Witch Among Warlocks: The Complete Series Box Set

by Lidiya Foxglove

  Chapter Twelve

  Montague

  There are things they always warn you about becoming a vampire. The need for blood, obviously, being the main reason you want to avoid becoming a vampire. The non-aging thing is complicated too. And the sun. We had spells to get around it, but I had to get them reinforced every year for the rest of my life, and I’d still been getting sunburned. I wasn’t supposed to sunburn like this. My Spanish ancestors had settled magical Florida; they must be laughing from beyond the grave.

  The most pressing thing on my mind when I woke up covered in blood in a hotel room in Cancun was that I was going to be socially shamed, and Harris would have to pretend he didn’t know me. We were still navigating that one. He did avoid me when I came back, but he looked miserable. The guy wasn’t exactly the type for making a bunch of new friends. Plus, Alec would still hang out with me, so Harris was the odd man out. Over the summer it was easy enough to skirt the issue, though, because he went back to his parents’ summer mansion, and I went to…rehab.

  If you get turned into a vampire, you gain memories from the entire vampire line. This is, apparently, how vampires have survived and formed networks and royal families of their own. As soon as I got turned, the guy who had just ruined my life tried to tell me that I was supposed to serve his ‘lord’.

  Immediately, the guy’s face flashed into my mind and this sinking feeling flooded through me, which is when I whipped out more magic than I thought I was capable of and escaped.

  The only thing that protected me was my status as a warlock. I rushed to the nearest magical council office in Mexico and they helped me get home to the States, where I spent six weeks at the Haven.

  The Haven. Now there’s a place to drum fear into a warlock’s heart. It was supposedly a place where witches and warlocks could go for safety and rehabilitation from the darker forces of the world. A place where an unlucky guy like myself who’s been turned into a vampire can get the spells he needs to stay with his family and friends and go to a normal college.

  I got all that. I also got an epic amount of lecturing and attempts to program me to be a good little warlock, and in the end I got slapped with a bargain: if I wanted to leave the Haven, I had to hand over my car.

  I wasn’t even allowed to sell it to someone who would love it. I had to give it to them.

  My car was my pride and joy. My parents hated it. Every old witch and warlock who saw it hated it, and the more they hated it, the more satisfaction I took in trying to make it the most obnoxiously tricked out street racer I could. It was a 1996 Mitsubishi Eclipse with a performance chip for the engine and a free-flowing exhaust that made it sound like a hive of angry bees and amped up the performance, a spoiler and an electric blue paint job that faded to a darker color in the back.

  I didn’t really care about becoming a vampire half as much as I cared about losing the car. I’d been telling everyone that I just had to sell it to help pay for school. I couldn’t stand talking about it.

  But I’d also been having some weird thoughts. They warned me this might happen. I was supposed to cast a ‘memory banish’ spell every time one hit me.

  When I looked at Charlotte I suddenly saw Lisbeth.

  I knew the girl’s name, because she was his girl. My vampire ‘lord’. The oldest vampire in my line. I saw her skating on iron skates on a frozen body of water, smothering a laugh in her glove, her fair face surrounded by a starched ruff.

  Shit. This was really scaring me sometimes, and I didn’t want to admit that to anyone.

  I was used to fitting in, not being different. Before this, I was as normal as a warlock can get. Just a promising, middle-class warlock, making my parents proud, except for the cell phone and the car and the fact that I snuck off to party in Cancun for spring break. I had some idea I would hook up with some human girls and get drunk, that now seemed very quaint and immature.

  Young Monty, such dreams you had.

  Well, a guy’s gotta let go sometimes when he studies hard the rest of the year.

  I cut the tour short so I could go off by myself and banish ‘Lisbeth’ from my mind before my own class started. I didn’t even show Charlotte the gardens or the swimming pool, all of them still with gilded age beauty that I thought a girl would appreciate. Sometimes it seemed pretty wasted on this lot. Warlocks were pretty attached to views that sometimes seemed not just Victorian, but more like Medieval.

  I saw Charlotte to her class, but as soon as I stepped out of the building smelled something kind of musky in the air.

  I didn’t think it was the fox. He was a little too human to stink like that. This was a raw, beastly scent.

  I knew I saw something earlier…

  Movement flickered in the woods through the old iron fencing. It looked like a large dark animal in the brush. I might not have caught it if it wasn’t for my enhanced senses.

  “Hey!” I ran toward the fence, grabbed the bar and vaulted over it.

  Yeah, this was definitely the source of the musk. But by the time I got there, I didn’t see any sign of anything. I kept sniffing, even though I felt stupid, like the drug sniffing dog I saw at the airport during my fateful trip.

  “Who are you?” I growled. “Were you watching me?”

  My vampire senses were churning and impatient. This monster inside me wanted to find whatever it was and kill it. This feeling was the opposite of how I was taught to conduct myself as a warlock—measured, gentlemanly, remembering one’s training.

  It seemed like it was gone, whatever it was, but the scent lingered.

  Something had been out here. Not just an ordinary animal. Well, quite possibly not an animal at all. Something magical. A sinistral?

  I wanted to ask my familiar what she thought, but she was gone.

  When I died, my familiar had died with me, perhaps in an attempt to save me. When I came back from the dead…she didn’t return. My mistake had killed her. That was something I had barely even talked about with anyone. The relationship between a warlock and his familiar was supposed to be a private matter. Even in death.

  Of course, Charlotte and Firian didn’t have that. I knew it would get them in trouble, and Charlotte didn’t even seem aware of what a taboo she was breaking.

  I huffed, kicking the autumn leaves, shoving back the pain of losing my familiar. Rosa had been a good familiar, who took the form of a badger.

  I’d lost a lot this summer, but I was determined not to show it to anyone. I wasn’t the richest or the most powerful warlock at Merlin College by a long shot. I didn’t have room to mess up twice.

  “Whoever you are,” I declared, “if you’re here to mess with Charlotte, you’ll have to get through me first.”

  No answer.

  It was gone, whatever it was, but it would be back. I’d bet money on that. There was something strange afoot. As far as I knew, Charlotte was the only witch to ever be admitted to a warlock university, and I had a feeling there was more to that story.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlotte

  I walked into the classroom for my orientation. Master Blair was waiting for me, along with a nondescript middle aged warlock in a wrinkled shirt and tie with glasses and a mustache. And by mustache, I don’t mean like a rugged mustache or a steampunk mustache or anything like that. This was like a middle management mustache circa 1985.

  “Hello, Charlotte. Thank you for being a mere fifteen minutes late,” Master Blair said.

  “Oh…sorry. Montague was giving me a tour.”

  “We’re going to give you some tests today, ask some questions. This is Professor Jablonsky, he’ll be supervising with me today.”

  “Hello, Charlotte.” Professor Jablonsky shook my head. “You can just call me Stuart. Just so you know, there are no wrong answers. Just the facts.”

  He seemed nice, but…very out of place. “Oh good, I guess not all witches and warlocks are cool.”

  Dean Blair looked up from a clipboard with a severely raised eyebrow. “What ar
e you saying, Charlotte? Stu is the coolest warlock I know.”

  I laughed. His face turned from incredulous to angry.

  “I mean—you’re—oh—you’re serious?”

  “Of course I’m serious. Nobody tears up the dance floor like Stu, I tell ya,” Master Blair muttered. He wrote something down, still frowning at me. I wasn’t off to a great start, but at least Professor Stuart Jablonsky didn’t look very offended.

  “I guess I’m too old to be cool at this point,” he said with a shrug.

  “But we’re the same age. Am I not cool? Stu, you are extremely cool. Don’t listen to her.”

  “Well, you’re from the New York magical community,” Stuart said. “I’m from Kansas.”

  Master Blair scoffed.

  “Does it matter where you come from?” I asked.

  “You know why the midwest has a reputation for being nice? It’s because the demons don’t hang out there,” Stuart said. “So not that many witches or warlocks either. Not much to do. Demons like the southeast. That’s why Floridians have a reputation for being crazy. Florida has a lot of hot spots. ‘Florida man’ is often a demon.”

  “Ohh. That explains so much,” I said, although it also sounded optimistic. Pretty sure Florida man was just a normal weirdo, in most cases.

  “Let’s see. We’re going to give you some tests to see where to place you, Charlotte. Obviously, I know you haven’t had any training, so it might take you time to get up to snuff, but our training is very specialized here. Lots of personal attention is lavished on our students.” He paused. “I hope that didn’t sound like sexual harassment. I am not used to female students.”

  “Only if you meant it that way,” I said. “I mean, not that I want you to mean it that way. I don’t.”

  “If you were getting a tour from Montague Xarra, you probably have been harassed enough already,” Stuart said. “Maybe I should submit a report to the council.”

  Firian cleared his throat. “Let’s just get started.”

  “Yes. We’re going to start with a simple elemental test,” Master Blair said. “Not insultingly simple, I hope. I’m sure you have lit plenty of candles in your day, at least.”

  “I’ve never done any magic,” I said. “I didn’t know about any of this.”

  “You’ve never just lit a candle with your mind by accident?” Stuart asked. “Maybe you forgot.”

  “If I had accidentally lit a candle, I would have freaked out and never forgotten. I thought I was a normal human.”

  “Right,” Stuart said. “You’re going to have a very exciting year. I, for one, am excited for you.”

  Master Blair produced a candle and snapped his fingers. “Well, now you know, Charlotte, and I am sure you can light this candle. It is the simplest test of wills.”

  “Sure thing,” I said. I was not at all sure. Lighting a candle with my mind? It seemed like if I was able to do that, I would have done it as a kid during a pretend game or something. I glanced at Firian.

  “He’s right,” Firian said. “This is easy. If you have trouble, just imagine you’re in the game.”

  I looked at the candle and mustered all my determination. I didn’t know what to do, really. It felt like I should say some spell words or wave my hands. But no one had given me instructions like that, so I guess it was just a brain to candle kind of thing. Just me and an unlit candle. And three guys watching me intently. No pressure or anything. Just a very human-y witch at warlock school, gritting her teeth and tensing her muscles…

  “Relax,” Master Blair said. “You have to let go.”

  “What am I letting go of?”

  “Your fear that you won’t be able to light the candle,” Stuart said.

  Yeah, okay, that was obvious.

  “Your fear that you’ll disappoint us,” he continued.

  Oh, we’re still going.

  “Your fear that you won’t fit in here at warlock school,” he said. He paused. “But, then, sometimes you have to go deeper still. What are you the most afraid of?”

  “Wasps.”

  “Wrong!” Master Blair said. “No one’s worst fear is wasps. Or spiders or public speaking or anything so simple. Your worst fears are demons that lurk in your mind and whisper of the things that have haunted mortals since the dawn of time. Death, loss, sorrow, humiliation…these emotions are what leave us prey to actual demons.”

  I shivered. “I mean…I—I don’t know.”

  Firian looked at the ground. He was no help.

  “I’m afraid of hurting my dad,” I said. “Disappointing him. Losing him. I—I guess I always knew something bad happened with him and my mom, and it wasn’t just the usual. I know—he didn’t want this for me. If anything happens to me, it’ll wreck him. I want my dad to be happy.”

  “And yet…,” Master Blair said.

  I swallowed. “And yet, I wanted to come here. I want to know more about magic, and my mother, and Samuel Caruthers, and witches… I want to know what it feels like to have some real power.”

  “Light the candle,” Master Blair said.

  I threw that feeling at the candle. That was how it felt. I pushed at it with my hands. I felt a strong force of heat leave my skin as I shut my eyes. Light, candle! Light! When I open my eyes, you will be—

  I was thrown back. Firian caught me. My eyes flew open and everything was on fire. The candle had exploded into wax all over the desk. My face sort of hurt. Curtains were on fire. Papers on fire on the desk. Master Blair’s jacket. Everything that could catch fire was on fire and it was spreading fast. Flames licked up wallpaper and smoldered in the chair. “Damn!” Master Blair exclaimed. “Charlotte, get out of here!”

  Firian grabbed my hand and tried to tug me toward the door. I heard Master Blair and shouting spell words behind me.

  “The books, the books!” Master Blair said in a panic. “And we were almost done with the redecorating!”

  Stuart started throwing antique books out the window, three stories down, cringing the whole time.

  I wouldn’t let Firian drag me out. “Firian, no! This is my fault, isn’t it! I have to stop it somehow!” I tried to focus my will on the fire. I tried to draw it down, to bring it back inside me since it had come from, apparently, my repressed emotions.

  It wasn’t working. The smoke was getting thicker and that terrifying smell of paper and fabric charring and turning to ash was getting worse despite Master Blair’s efforts. I heard shouts outside as other people noticed.

  “Charlotte, we can’t do anything about this,” Firian said. “It’s easier to start a fire than it is to stop one. Just get to safety.”

  I made one final effort, spreading my hands. I created this fire. I own this fire. I can control it. I can end it. I’m not afraid.

  “Stop!” I shouted.

  All the force of the magic came at me in a rush that punched me like a hurricane force wind back at Firian. I slammed into him and we both were blown halfway up the wall, and then I fell. I saw stars, my body hit the ground hard, and…

  Next thing I knew, I was waking up in an infirmary with bandages on my arm and head. It was an airy room that looked like a World War 1 hospital in a movie: my bed was an iron frame with white sheets and a tall old window was behind me, while curtains gave us some privacy. Firian was sitting in a chair next to me with some scratches and bruises.

  “What happened? Is everyone okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, everyone’s okay,” Firian said. “Does your arm hurt?”

  “I feel pretty bruised, but…”

  “Good. They don’t think you broke anything.” His brows furrowed. “Where did you get that kind of power?”

  “You tell me!”

  “I don’t understand it,” he said. “That wasn’t normal.”

  “And you don’t know anything about it? Aren’t you supposed to be my support in all this?”

  “I don’t know everything!” he said. “Not if someone made a bargain, or— Well, I don’t know.” He cut himse
lf off quickly.

  “What do you mean, a bargain? Like a deal with the devil? Does this have something to do with my mom turning bad?”

  “I don’t like to say ‘bad’,” Master Blair said, walking past the privacy curtains. So much for privacy curtains. He could have knocked first. When he looked at me, I saw a little glimmer of excitement in his eyes that made me nervous.

  “But it is a little bit bad,” Stuart added. “Not your mother, that is, but the situation. We’ve just gotten a message—”

  Master Blair waved his pessimism off. “Charlotte,” he interrupted, sweeping over to me in his fresh, un-burnt, freshly pressed black suit. “That power you displayed was simply amazing. You are destined for great things. I know it. As long as we keep you on the right side of history, that is. I’m glad you’re here with me and not the witches. You have the sort of power that is not meant for a witch’s subtlety, but for raw force.” He spoke with such excitement that I was afraid he’d get saliva on me while I was trapped in bed.

  “But also, Samuel Caruthers is dead,” Stuart said.

  I sat up straight so fast that my arm throbbed with pain. “What?”

  “It’s true,” Master Blair said, immediately sobering. “He died during his trip to Australia. We just heard.”

  “Ohh—I—I hoped I would get to meet him and ask him why I’m here…” I turned away from Master Blair, who had a vaguely manic gleam in his eyes. “Am I in danger? How did he die?”

  “We’ll let you know when we know,” Stuart said.

  “I put in an immediate request to the council for his personal affects to be sent to the school when they’re returned to the country,” Master Blair said. “Charlotte, I think these two events may be connected. I think that your esteemed relative set up a channel to you. When he died, it is possible that you inherited his powers. He was powerful enough to do that. The effort to do so might have weakened him and led to his death. Maybe he wanted it that way. We need to see if he left anything behind for you.”

  “I’ve never even met him!”