A Throwback Witch

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by Holly Ice


  They’d put so much faith in me. They were basing so much on a glimpse into another room. Something over so quick I almost could’ve imagined it. As much as they believed in spirit’s power to show me the truth, it was just in my head.

  ‘Is there anything else we can do at the school?’ I asked.

  ‘Maybe. The techs have been working on the password problem. They were putting together a virus to bypass it. Strictly speaking, anything we find this way isn’t usable. But it might help us find something that is.’

  ‘Brilliant! When can you get it to us?’

  Justin edged out of his seat. ‘I’ll check in with the tech.’

  Shane touched my arm. ‘Are you sure about this? We’ve already searched his office once.’

  ‘But we didn’t get into his computer.’ Why wasn’t he jumping on this?

  Shane sighed. ‘Okay, we’ll try.’

  I frowned and turned my back on Cameron. ‘How are you holding up?’

  Shane shook his head. ‘Don’t ask me that.’ He fisted his hands in his lap.

  I rested my hand on them. ‘It’ll be okay.’

  But he was staring past me, towards the doors. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  His eyes flashed. ‘You keep your secrets!’

  I jerked back and gritted my teeth. He was upset. He didn’t mean that. He’d accepted that I couldn’t open up as easily as him. Hadn’t he?

  Cameron studied his phone, giving us a moment, but I didn’t know what else to say.

  * * *

  The next night, Shane, Cameron, and I went to the head’s window. But the moment Shane tried to turn the handle, it stuck. Locked.

  ‘I was afraid of that,’ he said.

  ‘That he’d lock you out? Why? He didn’t before.’

  ‘Maybe he had a hunch and checked for recent air signatures.’

  ‘Will he say anything about it?’ Cameron asked.

  ‘Not yet. He makes decisions slowly. But you don’t need to worry. He doesn’t know your signature. But he’d know mine. And Bee’s.’

  Well, shit. ‘Can you scrub the handle? A second visit raises more questions.’ The first we could probably explain away, if we had to.

  Shane grimaced. ‘I can try.’ He closed his eyes and worked his hands around the handle, not quite touching it. Yellow and multicoloured light. He was using spirit and air to cleanse it.

  ‘You think that will work?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s the only idea I’ve got.’

  ‘Cameron? What about you?’

  ‘That was my idea.’

  Well, it was done now. Nothing we could do except speed up our operation. ‘Cameron, tell Justin he needs to work fast.’

  ‘On it.’

  ‘And we should get inside.’ Before he caught us in the act, too.

  ‘I’m going to get some sleep.’

  The guys nodded and walked with me until our paths split.

  Cameron waved. ‘Night!’

  I went to kiss Shane, but he hugged me instead. My heart skipped a beat, and I scrutinised him when I stepped back.

  ‘You didn’t want a kiss?’ I tried to make it a joke, but Shane just shrugged.

  ‘Not feeling it.’

  Wow, okay. Was I just a fling to him? ‘A lot on your mind?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  I blinked. That was a lot of anger. I put up my hands. ‘I’m going now.’

  I turned to the girl’s wing but when I was sure he’d gone into his room, I doubled back for the library. Shane’s inability to deal with his feelings would prey on me if I tried to sleep. But that wasn’t the only thing swirling around my head. Those comments about visions being rare and running in families… at least I could put that to rest.

  But what did I look under? Magical skills, especially rare ones, had to be researched by someone. It could count as a difference resulting from a family descending from a certain type of fae…

  Haven’t you got into enough trouble tonight? Get some rest. Shane will apologise in the morning.

  Not happening. Between what Lyall let slip about not many families having visions, and what the guys had said about it only being Cognata witches, and rare, I had a good shot at working out which witch family I came from. That might lead me to Lyall. And him telling me to go to bed was the hook. If he thought I could find trouble, then I could find answers.

  Chapter 17

  The night was clear and icy, the large library windows foggy, but I could ignore the weather, curled in my favourite nook. I brought one book to the table at a time, searching for the right category and topic. And I’d already been here hours.

  The latest text was a hefty tome on the history of witches and their connections to the fae. And it was one of those technical research essays, which took chapters to get to the point, so keen on proving itself one way or another against other academic texts and ideas I hadn’t yet read. Dry as tinder. But I kept scanning the pages for the types of fae that witch families have been linked to and what differences that caused. Some of the more promising ones had some psychic ability, increasing intuitive ability, but no visions.

  I felt the burn of the paper as I checked the pages hadn’t stuck together. Dust tickled my nose, and I sneezed. Then I rubbed my eyes to refocus on the text. Tiredness was creeping in. I ran my finger over the list of referenced texts I’d compiled and stopped. One title tingled under my finger. Good enough reason to pick that one up first.

  The relevant section was on the third floor, and the moment I stepped into the aisle, the tingling in my finger spread to my whole hand.

  Promising. I trailed my hand over the books in each shelf and felt stinging pinpricks in one area. Slowly, I touched each book.

  Shit! I sucked the tip of my finger and tasted blood. That was the book.

  I touch-tested the book, but this time it had no effect. So I took it back to my nook. Lyall fluttered overhead the whole way, circling and eying the title. But he didn’t say anything. This book looked as dry as the others, so I doubted he’d read it.

  The book was so old, it gave off a sweet smell when I opened the cover. And it rustled as I turned the thick pages, the glue creaking in the spine. I skimmed, waiting for inspiration. When none came, I flicked through and stopped on a random page. And kept doing so. I didn’t have the energy to read the whole thing tonight, but spirit was on my side, and if luck wanted to give me answers tonight… I’d take it.

  Wait. I scanned the page, sure I’d seen ‘vision’ in there somewhere, and found it. I tapped the page and smiled at that one word, then read around it to find only three witch families had been linked to visions. Two had occasional visions in some generations but not consistently, and one had someone with strong psychic ability in almost every generation. All the families were thought to be descended from fae with an alignment to spirit. Probably a banshee.

  And right there were the family names. Lacey, Salter, and Wildes. Wildes, like the school’s name. I stared at it, my finger not moving. I’d seen the other two names in the ancestry books, but not Wildes. If they had such a strong connection to visions, why didn’t they have their own book? They should have been prime marriage material. Powerful, with rare abilities. And influential enough to have a school named after them! It wasn’t like they were insignificant and disappeared from history through irrelevance. So where were they? Even if they’d died out, there should be traces.

  Lyall, what do you ken about the Wildes family?

  He walked the edge of a shelf, balancing with his wings.

  You’re not going to answer, are you?

  No.

  Frustratingly, I had no idea if that was because he knew the Wildes family in life and so aether wasn’t letting him speak, or if he was a Wildes himself. But I had to be onto something. If they were hidden from history, maybe that was why Lyall didn’t reveal his human form? But to be removed from history so thoroughly, with only a mention in a boring book on the pote
ntial connections between fae and witches… I needed to look into this further, work out what made this Wildes family so secretive. Shane might know. But how did I broach the topic? Should I? He had enough going on.

  What are you going to do?

  I’ll let you know when I work it out.

  * * *

  Rufus’s lessons had turned to the more detailed aspects of where witches got their magic and how to guess which of the rarer abilities you might possess, if any. And how to recognise those skills if they materialised. A lot of the lesson echoed what I’d read in the library, which made me perk up. Lyall was alert, too, stalking my desk from corner to corner, his beady eyes on me.

  ‘As you can see from the lists here, witch powers are extensive, and some are limited to particular family lines, those descended from certain species of fae. Can anyone name any of those skills?’

  Don’t bring attention to yourself.

  Oh, screw you. I raised my hand.

  Rufus’s eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t used to me contributing. ‘Yes, Bianca?’

  ‘How about visions?’

  If possible, Rufus’s eyebrows jumped even higher. ‘Yes, that is an extremely rare skill. Only two families have recorded visionaries in the last fifty years.’

  ‘But didn’t three families have people with this power?’

  Rufus stilled. ‘And where did you hear that?’

  My classmates watched with open curiosity or surprise, but no one else froze like I’d said something wrong. ‘In The Impact of Fae Heritage on Elemental Ability.’

  Rufus blew out his breath. ‘That is not easy reading. I’m surprised anyone picked that book up of their own free will.’ He forced a chuckle, but his heart wasn’t in it. ‘Yes, that book mentions a third family, but they’re no longer living.’

  My fingers twitched around my pen. ‘They all died?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When?’ The way Rufus looked at me, I was treading into areas I shouldn’t. How did I spin this? ‘A family like that dying out is so sad. They had so much power.’

  ‘Losing the Wildes was no loss,’ Rufus hissed.

  Someone gasped. Mutters about the Wildes and my questions surrounded me. The moment the Wildes name was first mentioned. What was it that made them so unspeakable? They acted like they were the magical bogeymen.

  Lyall, any guidance?

  I gave you advice earlier. But okay, here it is again: shut the hell up, before you make this worse.

  * * *

  I was about to go through the door to Elemental Strengths when Shane grabbed my wrist and pulled me into an empty classroom.

  I blinked at him and his hand, still wrapped around my wrist. ‘This isn’t a normal way to apologise.’

  He let go. ‘I heard what happened.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘In your last class. You mentioned the Wildes, of all people? Justin will bench you forever.’

  I huffed. ‘I didn’t ken it meant so much.’

  Shane shook his head. ‘I keep forgetting how little you know about our history.’

  ‘What did they do?’

  Shane sighed. ‘They killed a lot of people.’ He looked me over for a reaction.

  My throat was dry as ash. My family might be murderers. If I was a Wildes, was that why Lyall hid his form? Did that mean he killed people, too? Why would aether give me a murdering guide? God, my head was spinning. I gripped a table and took a deep, shaky breath.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Shane pulled out a chair for me, but I waved him off.

  ‘No wonder they acted like I mentioned the Devil.’ My voice gave out a wee bit. I hoped he’d put it down to shock.

  His lips thinned. ‘There’s nothing more to this? It’s just something you read? You’re not hiding anything?’

  ‘No, I’m not hiding anything.’ If I told him what I suspected now, he’d bite my head off for not telling him earlier. And I didn’t need him to comfort me over ancient history. I wasn’t even sure. Two other families were possibilities. ‘Come on, let’s get to class.’

  * * *

  Kaylee threw her bag on the bed. ‘What is going on with you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Kaylee spent all her time with her Cognata friends now. We’d come to a cordial, non-speaking arrangement. So why was she confronting me?

  ‘Why did you bring up the Wildes? For a reaction?’

  Gads, not her, too. ‘No.’ How could she think I’d seek attention like that? ‘I’d read about them having visions in their history. It seemed relevant.’

  Kaylee huffed. ‘Whatever. Look, I wasn’t going to tell you until the results were in, but they should be here any day now.’

  Ice cut into my bones. ‘What results?’

  ‘I spoke to McKee about your family.’

  I already knew that, or did she mean more than when she first introduced me wanting to find my witch family? ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I went to him after you punched Amélie.’ She put her hands up. ‘No, I didn’t tell him why you punched her. But I asked him to test your DNA, said you’d changed your mind but couldn’t admit it.’

  ‘What! I never said that.’

  Kaylee’s foot tapped the floor. ‘Well, stealing DNA said it for you. He used the envelope you licked when you gave him your family details, at extra expense. He even had them fast tracked. Like me, he thought the results might help you settle here.’

  I could only blink at her. The dobber thought she’d helped me, but she might have condemned me. If I was a Wildes, what would they think? They thought they were all dead.

  ‘You’ll get your answers soon. I’ve got to go.’ She grabbed her bag and left.

  She thought she’d helped me because of what I’d told her. McKee thought he was helping me because I’d exaggerated the sob story around my past.

  I hadn’t respected the privacy of the people I’d had tested. But I was still mad. Shaking with it. Tempted to throttle Kaylee in her sleep. I got it. The lie I fed her was awful. Crazy talk. But now…

  Anger didn’t help me. But with what she’d done, I couldn’t ignore the possibility I was a Wildes. I’d go to the library. In the Wildes academy, at least one book must mention the witches they named it after, and what happened.

  * * *

  I threw the tenth or eleventh book on the floor. I’d stopped counting. None mentioned the Wildes. It was like they obliterated them from history.

  Another book stared at me, but I couldn’t face reading it only to get no answers, so I picked up my phone and checked the ten unread messages. Shane sent me an apology and a picture of him in bed with a sad face. Justin wanted to meet soon for an update. Finn was sending me selfies of him and Rhea, holding extravagant hot chocolates at a Christmas market and posing in front of elves on their smoke break. I snorted. Their photos got more and more blurry once they found a bar selling Christmas cocktails. I sent him a quick reply, then turned to Shane’s message. I’d exhausted the library. And I should come clean.

  ‘Any chance I can come over?’

  A long pause. He must have fallen asleep. ‘I was hoping you’d say that. Cameron’s in, but I think we can be good?’

  I didn’t think either of us would be fooling around under the covers once he knew what I suspected. ‘That’s fine. When do you want me?’

  ‘Come on up.’

  I pocketed my phone, put my discarded books on the return shelf, and blearily climbed the stairs to the male dorms, a wee bit light-headed after being up for so long. I knocked.

  My phone vibrated. ‘You have access! I’m keeping the bed warm for you.’

  I smiled, but when I opened the door, my breath shot out of me in one go.

  ‘Shut the door, Trouble.’

  It definitely wasn’t me who should be called trouble right now. Shane lied. He’d gotten rid of Cameron and was lying on top of the covers with only a pillow over his privates. And what a sight he was. He’d thrown a top over the light to soften it, and it threw
deeper shadows across his handsome form. His legs were sculpted muscle, his stomach was flat and toned from years on his motorbike, and his eyes were shadowed and slightly lidded as he beckoned me closer.

  I kicked the door shut and dropped my things by the bed. Then, pushing the pillow aside, I climbed into his lap and kissed him. ‘Hi.’

  It didn’t hurt to delay the serious stuff a wee bit.

  He pulled me closer, moulding me to him. ‘Hi yourself.’ He pressed his lips to mine for one long, sweet kiss. And as his hands massaged my back, all my worries left me. I needed this. He needed this. The Wildes drama could wait until morning.

  I broke the kiss and sat on him, then removed my jacket and my top. Tonight, I was all his. And this delicious bad boy with his bed-ruffled hair was all mine.

  * * *

  I woke with a start to a loud slam. Disorientated, I looked around. This wasn’t my room, and that wasn’t Cameron slamming the door. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I pulled the covers over my bare top half and searched for my clothes, but they were out of easy reach. I’d have to handle this situation from the bed.

  Shane sat and moved to cover me from clear view. ‘What the hell are you doing here? You can’t come in without knocking.’

  McKee scoffed. ‘Does that not apply to my office?’

  ‘Is that what this is about?’ Shane crossed his arms. ‘Leave. Now. This is not how a head should behave, and you know it.’

  As awkward as all this was, I had to smile. He was finally standing up for himself.

  And then McKee ripped the duvet from the bed.

  I was so shocked I didn’t ken whether to cover myself or run to my clothes. I ended up sitting there, frozen in place. I couldn’t get my clothes without revealing more of myself. And the hardness in McKee’s eyes rivalled Russell’s. This couldn’t all be about his office.

  ‘Have a little respect!’ Shane grabbed my top and passed it to me.

  I put it on. My cheeks were hot enough to cook bacon, and I hated it. It was only nudity but… this was Shane’s uncle.

  ‘No, Shane,’ McKee said, still glaring at me. ‘That breaking and entering stint is not why I’m here. It seems you have no clue what kind of witch you fell into bed with.’

 

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