Werewolf Magic & Mayhem (Book Two, Magic & Mayhem Series)
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Werewolf Magic & Mayhem
Book Two – Magic & Mayhem Series
By
Stella Wilkinson
Books by Stella Wilkinson
The Flirting Games
More Flirting Games
Further Flirting Games
The Flirting Games Trilogy, Books 1 - 3
Good @ Games
Flirting with Friends
Halloween Magic & Mayhem
Werewolf Magic & Mayhem
Solstice Magic & Mayhem
Notice Me
A Christmas Gift
All Hallows EVE
Romancing the Stove
Bend it like a Bookworm
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Copyright Stella Wilkinson 2014
All characters herein are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher or author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book was written, produced and edited in the UK, where some spelling, grammar and word usage will vary from US English
Chapter One
“Emily? Can you bring out some more green tallow candles and some dousing sticks, and get those Athames out of the bucket of water by the back door?” my aunt Iris called to me as I pottered about her stock room.
“No problem.” I shouted back, doing as she asked. “Why were these knives in water outside?” I asked her as I carried them into her shop.
“I was imbuing them with the power of a waxing moon overnight,” she answered, like that would make any sense to me.
The whole conversation would have sounded bizarre out of context. But Iris runs a shop full of paraphernalia for witches.
I’ve been a real witch for nearly three weeks now, and I’m still totally useless at it! I got my “powers” on my sixteenth birthday on Halloween, but apparently I’m a Natural Witch, which means my power comes from my emotions, over which I seem to have very little control.
So far I’ve managed all of five spells. After a disastrous false start I eventually managed to do a Revive Spell, but unfortunately also raised an army of dead zombies by accident, and corporealized a ghost at the same time.
I did, however, get right the spell to “bond” with my ghost and I managed to help him cross over.
I’m also proud to say that I very successfully managed to Undo my Revive Spell, which I count as another spell.
All that happened on Halloween, and what have I done since then? One spell, that’s it! Not for the want of trying. My aunt Iris, who is a witch as well, has been trying very hard to help me “harness” my powers, but I can tell she’s getting a bit depressed with how slow I am.
My one other spell since then was to bond with my Familiar. I have this cute crow who turned up on my sixteenth birthday and offered his services.
Now that I’m a witch, I can hear animals talking, which is one of the most exciting things to happen.
Bob, short for Blackbobhead, wanted to be a witch’s Familiar because apparently they get a lot of respect from other animals, but it seemed like a bum deal to me because now he was constantly at my beck and call. Not that I’ve had much use for him so far. But he’s taken to hanging out in my room. It’s mid-November and pretty cold outside, so I can appreciate that it’s nice to have a warm place to go if you’re a bird. Also I tend to spoil him a lot; I bought him a red velvet cushion to sit on and I get him little treats. Not worms or anything gross, but he seems to have a weakness for Cheddar cheese.
Apparently having your Familiar present when doing magic can really enhance a witch’s powers, but first you have to “bond”.
The bonding process is kind of icky. We had to swap blood. Not just swap it but actually drink it fresh from each other. There are other ways to bond but blood bonding is the most powerful kind of bond, and I need all the help I can get.
Bob was very sweet about it; I used my ceremonial knife, an Athame, and he let me cut him at the end of his wing bone (it’s tough to find a feather-free spot on a crow) and he was fine about drinking from me. That was an experience I don’t ever want to repeat. I had to gouge a hole in my palm that was ridiculously big and deep to allow his beak to suck from it. I had to wear a bandage round my hand for a week afterwards (and I didn’t tell Bob, but I totally doused it in TCP as well, to avoid infection. I shudder to think where that beak might have been). Anyway, he sucked my blood and I almost puked having to suck blood out of his bleeding wing. Then as we did it we were supposed to have a “meeting of minds”. This is the really difficult bit. You stare into each other’s eyes until you connect.
I stared at Bob and tried to feel as one with him. It took only seconds, but as I sucked his blood it felt like it took ages.
It was actually an amazing moment; I got some weird sense of the pleasure of flying. I literally felt the wind beneath my wings, and the call of the open sky, then that all got muddled up with the scent of warm fresh earth, of wet rain, and then of sucking up worms and pecking in the dirt; then bang! A bright light went off between us and we were bonded.
Bob was pretty rude about the “mind meld”. He said I thought about clothes, make-up and boys too much and that I was a “shallow human”. But hey! I’m a sixteen-year-old girl, that’s what I’m supposed to think about. Stupid bird.
I was incredibly pleased at pulling off the bonding. And relieved I wouldn’t have to do it again any time soon. The taste of his blood was utterly disgusting. I would make a rotten vampire.
But that is the sum total of spells I’ve done. It’s pathetic. I’m supposed to be a powerful witch, but can I do any basic magic? No.
Iris is a Fire Witch; that’s one of the Elemental witches. She tried to teach me her own power, starting with the simple: how to call a flame. But after three hours of blowing on candles and matches, which made me incredibly light-headed, we had to conclude I didn’t have it in me.
Since then I have tried to do all kinds of stuff. Mainly spells from the Grimoire I inherited from my mother. They were mostly potions, or supposed to be, but they came out looking more like pond water. My mother was a Kitchen Witch, but she died when I was five, so I didn’t know until I got my own powers.
Aunt Iris is my mother’s sister. She said I wasn’t allowed to know until the day before I turned sixteen because “children” can’t keep secrets, and so it’s forbidden to tell them they are witches until just before they get their powers. There seem to be some silly rules.
For example, I’m not allowed to tell my friends I’m a witch. Not unless they too are witches, or some other magical being. At first I thought this was dumb, but I’m beginning to see the sense of it now.
People would want us to do spells for them if they actually believed it was real. If they didn’t believe it, then we would be mocked as nutters, or worse, they might believe it and want to burn us! There were a lot of good reasons to be careful, no matter how far society has come since the famous witch trials.
I can just imagine my best friends’ reactions. Kate would think it was cool and ask me to do some magic, which I would totally fail to do, then she would think I was making it all up. Bryony would say it was satanic. That’s what she already thinks of my aunt’s shop.
My aunt owns a shop called The Crystal Fire. It sells all kinds of wit
ch stuff. People think she is just a Wicca worshiper; they don’t know she can do real magic.
Since her usual Saturday girl left a couple of weeks ago, she gave me the job, and now I work from eight until six every Saturday for minimum wage. But I think of the job less as work and more as training. I’m familiarising myself with her stock and trying to learn what everything does. A lot of it is just “trash for the tourists” as Iris says, but some of it is actually quite powerful, if used properly.
So here I was, working the shop floor, trying to think of some new way to tap into my powers, when a boy walked in and I got a witchy tingle…
Chapter Two
I do already have a boyfriend. Well, sort of. Okay, not really.
I have a boy I like, and I think he likes me. We’ve kissed and been on a group date. Does that count as a boyfriend? I wish I knew.
I haven’t updated my Facebook status, just in case.
The “not quite my boyfriend” boy in question is called Sean Carrey. He goes to the other school in our small town and I met him in our main shopping centre.
On Halloween we met up again at a party and we kissed. It was my first real kiss and I wasn’t disappointed. Sean is quite a catch in my opinion. He is confident, funny and really good-looking, though I suspect he knows it, if you know what I mean.
So, Halloween went pretty well for me (after I had gotten rid of the zombies and the ghost), and Sean asked for my number at the end of the night.
This was a first for me as well, and I spent some time screaming quietly down the phone to my girlfriends the next morning.
I had to wait a few days for his call; actually he didn’t call at all, he texted me. His friend had asked my friend to go bowling and did we want to double?
It wasn’t the most romantic way of being asked out but it was the best offer I’d ever had. The only problem was that Bryony, Kate and I had always done everything together, and now only Bryony and I were invited.
I made Bryony ring Matt, Sean’s friend, and check it was okay if Kate came with us and brought a date, like a triple date, or a group date. Bryony is much more assertive than me, and she didn’t remotely care about doing something that might put Matt off her. I would have been really nervous about trying to change the arrangements, but she just rang him up and told him how it was going to be! I am so in awe of that.
Finding Kate a date was easy. I have a sort-of stepbrother, who I think likes her.
My dad’s girlfriend Clare moved into our house a couple of years ago and she brought her son with her. I hated them both at first; it had just been my dad and me for years, but I was getting used to them now. Clare’s son, Duncan, is the same age as me and now also goes to my school. I feel bad that I was so mean to him at first, and probably alienated him when he didn’t know anyone, so I’m trying to be really nice now to make up for it.
After all, a witch has to consider her actions carefully. It’s in the Witches’ Rede; there’s a line in it that goes: What ye send forth comes back to thee, so ever mind the law of three. I think it means that whatever magic I do will come back on me three times over, so I will be steering well clear of doing anything bad.
Though so far my spells haven’t always gone according to plan, at least they were done with good intentions.
Anyway, I asked Duncan to come along as well and he jumped at it. The trouble was, his mother is quite protective, and insisted on dropping us off and picking us up.
Most of the date was pretty good, in my opinion. Sean and I teased each other over our bowling skills, and we held hands under the table when it wasn’t our turn. But at the end of the night our hoped-for goodnight kiss was totally thwarted.
We all went outside to wait for our parents, and in the darkness of the parking lot, I noticed Matt start kissing Bryony. I was sure that Sean was leaning in for a kiss when my dad pulled up ten minutes early and started flashing his headlights at us.
There was no way I was going to kiss a boy with my dad watching!
In the end I just mumbled goodnight and shook his hand. It was so embarrassing. He said he’d call me, but I thought I might have blown it.
He actually did call me a few days later, and we talked on the phone for a while. So I’m pretty sure he still likes me. But he didn’t suggest another date. Mostly we just talked about movies and food, and then suddenly he had to go, as his mum was calling.
Bryony keeps telling me to chill out about it, and that boys are useless. But if he liked me as much as I like him, then wouldn’t he want to see me as much as possible?
All of that leads me to the present moment. I was sensing this other boy, really sensing him.
It wasn’t particularly his looks. He was definitely handsome, in a dark moody sort of way, but he wasn’t as classically good-looking as Sean. Yet there was something more about him somehow. Like an old soul trapped in a young body. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen, but he had “presence”.
He was looking at the books in a dark corner of the shop, but even with his back to me I felt like he was looking at me.
The tingles up and down my spine were unusual. I was convinced it must be a witch alarm of some sort; I had never experienced it before.
I watched the boy move about the shop. Other customers moved out of his way, almost unaware that they were doing so. He didn’t look directly at me, yet I continued to feel as if he was observing me somehow.
He took a book off the shelf and leafed through it, then for no reason he suddenly put it back and walked out the door.
“Well, that was weird.” I murmured to myself. I went over to the bookshelf and picked out the book he had been looking out. It seemed fairly innocent; it was called Magical Trees in the Forests of Britain.
It was bizarre, but as I pressed my palm against the cover, I could swear I picked up a residue of his touch.
The trouble was that the feeling could easily have come off the book itself. There were so many titles in the shop that contained a bit more than the average book, and that sometimes left a whisper of power.
This particular book didn’t look very powerful though. It was mainly for “Druids” who use trees as conduits, and harvest certain berries like mistletoe, for their brand of magic.
I put it back and told myself I was just being silly.
I was exhausted by the time six o’clock came around. I needed a long bath and to put some peppermint foot-rub on my tired feet. Iris paid me, which always cheers me up, and I helped with some last-minute straightening up before saying my goodbyes and leaving.
It was already dark and I felt strangely on edge as I began the short walk home.
Crossing the main road, I walked past the park, and there, sitting on a bench, was the boy from the shop.
I was sure he was waiting for me. I could tell he was looking at me.
I was instantly unnerved. Once again I could feel him more than I could see him. For a moment I considered breaking into a run. I was alone by a dark park and I was being watched.
Then I remembered: I didn’t have to be alone!
I was still far enough away from the boy that with luck he would not hear me. In a low voice I called “Bob?”
Bob was supposed to come whenever I called. He had amazing hearing and was always listening for me, but now that we were bonded he should have been detecting my stress anyway. If he didn’t come I could always yell for him; that would do it.
It might seem a bit lame having only a crow for backup, but if you’ve ever watched Hitchcock’s “The Birds”, you would know crows can be pretty scary when they want to, plus he could always fly to my Aunt Iris for a bit more “firepower” if necessary. As another witch she could also hear animals talking, though to any other person it just sounded like bird noises.
The boy looked upwards towards the sky at the sound of my voice. Could he hear me? Did he know I was calling a bird?
Bob came from the direction of my house like a black arrow, and I relaxed as soon as I saw him.
“Sorry, Bob,” I lightly stroked his wing, “I just needed the company.”
He put his head to one side, “I’m here whenever you need me, Mistress. Is something botherin’ you?”
“Someone. I’m probably being stupid, but see that boy over there? He’s giving me the creeps.”
Bob looked at the boy. “He is different.” I felt Bob’s claws tighten slightly on my shoulder.
“Different how?” I said, slowing my steps, not wanting to get too close yet.
“Dunno.” Bob stared at him thoughtfully.
The boy stood up. “Emily.” His voice was smooth. “I didn’t mean to give you the creeps, I just need your help.”
I stopped walking. How embarrassing! He had heard me even from that distance.
Wait – he’d said my name?
He began to move towards me, and I held my hands out protectively. I didn’t think I would be able to do any magic without a spell, but I hoped that somehow my powers would protect me if I were scared enough.
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“I’ve been watching you for a while.” He stopped walking to give me time.
“Oh, right, and that’s not creepy?” My voice rose an octave. “You’ve been watching me? Why?”
“Because you’re a powerful witch. You are, aren’t you?” He seemed unsure.
“Who said so?” I asked, taking another step back.
“I heard the animals on Halloween, they were all talking about you. It was you, wasn’t it?”
“What are you?” I asked suspiciously, “Are you a witch?”
He shook his head. “Look, do you think we could talk properly? I don’t really want to shout about it in the street.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” I said in disbelief. “You’ve just admitted you’ve been stalking me.”