Blood and Magic: A New Adult Paranormal Romance

by R. L. Weeks

  “Pretty much?” He raised an eyebrow.

  Wow. Nothing got past him. “All of it,” I lied.

  He didn’t look convinced. “How are you doing, by the way?”

  I looked down. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t need to pretend you’re okay if you’re not.”

  I shrugged. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t press it. “So,” he said cautiously. “I think I know what’s going on.”

  The corner of my mouth twitched involuntarily. “What’s that?”

  “I believe both of us came from a coven of witches.”

  I smiled. “That’s hilarious.”

  His serious expression didn’t shift. “What’s funny about it?”

  “Well…” I said, feeling awkward now. “You mean witches as in people who believed they were witches and got hanged and stuff?”

  He shook his head. “No. I mean witches who could really do magic.”

  “They don’t exist.” I watched him for a few seconds. He didn’t hint that it was a joke. “Oh, come on. You can’t really believe that.”

  He shrugged. “I do.”

  “I don’t.”

  “There’s always a skeptical one among partners.”

  I blinked in disbelief. “Partners?”

  “I’m just saying we’re in this together. I don’t see anyone else going through what we are.”

  “It could just be a coincidence,” I said, not even trying to sound persuasive.

  He smirked. “Not even you can believe that.”

  “You’re right,” I admitted. “But the magic part… I don’t know. I’d like to believe it. I read a lot, witch books included. It’d be cool, but it’s not realistic.”

  He hesitated. “What if I could prove it to you?”

  “Sure,” I said casually. “If you could prove it, then yeah, I’d believe it.”

  He reached over the candles and took my hands in his. I flinched but let him do it. He looked at me when I did. “You flinched.”

  I swallowed hard. “I guess I did.”

  He closed his eyes. “Close yours too.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to keep an open mind, but a big part of me felt like it was one big joke and I would end up being the punchline.

  “I would never embarrass you,” he said as if he could read my thoughts. “I swear.”

  I pursed my lips. “Uh… okay.”

  “Keep your mind open,” he ordered.

  My thoughts drifted like clouds in the darkness behind my eyelids. I heard the rain outside. I thought it was going to be sunny all day. It hammered hard on the roof, but the sound was relaxing. I opened my eyes in time to see a flash of lightning crack through the sky, brightening the room for a split moment. I looked over to the window. The sky rolled with thunder.

  “Stay with me,” he said, and I closed my eyes again. I wasn’t sure what it was that we were doing, but I let my mind drift. His grip on my hands was strong. Feeling my hands in his sent a warm tingle up my arms. One by one, those tingles turned into shockwaves, like a whole-body orgasm—which I was so glad I thought and didn’t say aloud. He could feel them too though; I could sense it.

  “Open your eyes.”

  My eyelids fluttered open. We were sitting on a hardwood floor in a modern house. My eyes widened. “What the—”

  He squeezed my hands tighter. “Don’t panic.”

  I looked around, warily. “This. Is. Not. Normal.”

  “I’m inside your mind.”

  My hands trembled. “Sorry, did you just say you’re in my mind?”

  He nodded. “It’s very… modern.”

  I looked from side to side, not wanting to move because of how freaked out I was. “Um. This is not my mind.”

  “I know it’s odd. It was strange when I first went into Jerimiah’s mind.”

  “You did this to others?”

  He nodded but didn’t elaborate. “You’ve really never seen this room before?”

  I shook my head. At least, I couldn’t remember it. “No.”

  “I’m still new to this, but it might be in your subconscious.”

  My heart raced. Whatever was happening, I needed it to stop. “Let’s go back,” I begged. “Please.”

  We heard footsteps coming from outside of the living area we were in, followed by a man’s voice. We both looked at each other, startled, then at the door, which opened abruptly. In walked a man I quickly recognized as my dad’s brother. “Uncle John?” I asked.

  He couldn’t hear me. I presumed, anyway, as he didn’t seem startled by seeing us sitting in his house. Over near the sofa was a little girl playing with toys on the rug. How did we not notice her before?

  I gasped. “That’s me.”

  Nicholas looked unsure. “This might be a memory.”

  “I don’t know.” I searched the room for something that might trigger my memory, but there was nothing. My uncle kneeled down in front of my six-year-old self and looked into my eyes. “Sleep child.” He lulled. As if he had compelled me, I slept instantly, falling back on the rug.

  Nicholas grabbed my attention again. “He was a witch too… well, a warlock.”

  “No. That’s impossible.”

  My uncle stood over my small body and turned around. He walked back to the door and shouted for others to come in. “She’s asleep. Brand her now. She will be one of us. Be careful.” They lifted up the back of my t-shirt, exposing my back. One of the men pressed his fingers against the skin of my lower back and chanted something I couldn’t make out. I watched with wild eyes. Before I could see what was about to happen, Nicholas broke the connection between us, and we landed back in the old house.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “You weren’t ready to see that,” he said, stumbling over his words. “It was in your subconscious for a reason.”

  “Brand me how?” I demanded.

  “I don’t know.” He replied with a sympathetic gaze. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “You think?” I stood and brushed myself down. “This is crazy.” I tried to calm my racing heart. The floodgates of my emotions opened. “Stay the hell away from me!” I grabbed my bag, flung it over my shoulder, and ran out of the house. I ran through the meadow toward the trees. The storm brewed above and followed me. It was as if I was in some cartoon. I ran faster as thick raindrops fell from the sky. The trees looked glossy as they were coated with the relentless rains. I needed to get home. It was too much to process.

  Could I really be a witch of all things?

  Chapter Three

  I returned home. “School therapist?” My mom asked, her tone laced with annoyance.

  I had been caught. There was no point denying it. “I’m sorry. I just needed to get away for a bit. It was hard being back.” I admitted. “But I’m okay now. I sorted everything out.”

  “Everything out?” Worry laced her expression. “What happened?”

  I shrugged. “Mean girls being mean.” I casually waved my hand. “Same as always.”

  She sighed and sat back into the cushion of the armchair. She scratched her nails against the fabric – the same thing I did when I was anxious.

  “Really, I’m fine now.” I pressed. “I won’t miss school again. Promise.”

  We sat in silence for a while. I counted the lines in the wood on the floor, my mind buzzing like a hive with the happenings of that day.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Mom asked.

  “Huh?” I blinked a couple of times and bit my lip. “Just thinking about… nothing.” I sighed. “How was work?”

  “Same as always,” she said with a small smile. “They keep giving me casseroles still.” She pointed at the dining table which was way too big for our small family. On it was two casseroles.

  “Wow. I thought we were done with other people’s cooking. It’s been months since Dad died.”

  Silence hung between us. That was the first time either of us had use
d the word died.

  “It has. I miss him so much.” Her shoulders slumped. “More than ever.” She started to tear up. I wanted to run upstairs. I couldn’t deal with seeing her that way. “I’m sorry, poppet,” she said when she noticed my horrified expression. “It couldn’t have been easy for you. Seeing me like that too. I’m sorry I wasn’t around when you needed me.”

  “You were here.” I pointed out.

  She ran her hand through her waves. “Physically, yes, but not up here.” She tapped the side of her head. “But I’m here now.”

  I looked at my feet and pulled my sleeves over my hands. “You did your best.”

  We didn’t say anything for a few seconds. I guessed she had gotten a lot of her speech from her therapist. She had always stuck her nose up at therapy, until now. I think it helped her, at least, I hoped it did. “I’m going up to my room. If you need me…”

  Her lips were stretched into a half-smile. “I’m always here for you Kate. You’re my daughter.”

  I held my breath for a few moments. Guilt nestled into my conscience. I was I could open up to her. Perhaps one day.

  ***

  That night I couldn’t sleep again, but for different reasons. Mom was crying again, downstairs. She sobbed into a pillow—screamed into it actually—but I pretended not to hear as usual. She slept on the sofa most nights. She couldn’t bring herself to sleep in her room without Dad. I crept out of bed, careful not to make a sound, and closed my door all the way. When I got back into bed, I stared at the ceiling, which was illuminated by the light from the streetlamps outside the window.

  I replayed my moment with Nicholas. How had he gotten in my head? What had my uncle and his friends done? They had all been wearing cloaks. Were they a part of a cult or something? I wondered if Dad knew. I wanted to ask him about it. That was my first big blow. I realized I couldn’t. For the first time since his death, him not being there panicked me. My heart skipped a beat and I bolted upright. I covered my mouth with my hands and let out a half sob. I couldn’t breathe properly. I would never see him again. I guess I knew that, but his death had never seemed permanent.

  Looking around the room in some desperate attempt to distract myself, I grabbed a book from my shelf and plonked myself back onto the bed. I couldn’t concentrate on the words on the page. The ink ran together until I realized it was my eyes blurring. I threw the book on the floor and sat back against the headboard.

  Dad’s laugh tinkered through my mind. His smile weaved its way through each thought. I couldn’t escape him. I suddenly missed the lectures he would give me and our late-night talks filled with stories about the eighties. I wanted those moments back with him more than anything. There was a hole in my heart, and the emptiness of his absence felt like a darkness that was going to swallow me whole.

  I shook uncontrollably. As each rush of emotion pulsated through me, the room trembled.

  The blue light from my phone lit up my room. I grabbed it and saw Nicholas’s name.

  “Hey. It’s Nicholas.”

  My voice cracked. “I know.”

  “Are you crying?”

  I couldn’t help it. I burst into tears with him on the phone. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  My eyes searched the darkening room. It wouldn’t be the worst thing. I didn’t want to be alone. The room was still trembling, and I knew my mom wouldn’t understand. Plus, I didn’t want to cause her more worry. She had enough of her own. “I’ll text you the address.” I said and hung up.

  After thirty minutes of crying into the darkness, I heard a tapping on my window. I opened the drapes and saw Nicholas standing in my front yard, throwing small rocks at the glass. Coming, I mouthed. I crept downstairs. My mom was asleep. Quietly, I walked over to the alarm and disarmed the system. The door creaked as I pulled it open. Nicholas was waiting behind it. His expression was hard under the spray of silver light from the moon. I looked briefly up at the clear sky, freckled with stars. “Be quiet. My mom’s asleep.” I told him and waved him into the house.

  He tiptoed upstairs behind me, and we walked into my room. A beam of white shone between my bed and the computer desk. The curtains were cracked open. I turned the light on, covering everything in a yellow glow, and sat at the end of my bed. “Thanks for coming over.”

  He didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure what to say. He looked around and sat on my grey futon. His eyes scanned my room. I suddenly felt vulnerable. My bookshelf was packed with teen paranormal romances and my teddy bears watched us from the shelves next to my bed.

  After a minute, he spoke. “Are you ready to talk about what happened earlier?”

  “No,” I said all too quickly.

  He looked at me, and I looked right back at him. There was something uneasy about Nicholas if you stared at him too long. The silence needed to be broken.

  “I was thinking about my dad.”

  “I guessed,” he replied with a cold, piercing stare. Something seemed different about him. He wasn’t the same man who was sitting with me, holding hands earlier.

  “The room was trembling.”

  That piqued his interest. “Was it the whole house or just your room?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t checking for that.”

  “You should have.”

  We sat in an indifferent silence. He looked at my teddy bears. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling. I was usually good at being able to get a sense of what someone was feeling. He hid his emotions well.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you,” I said softly.

  His stare was colder than ever. “You should be. What the hell did I ever do to you? You don’t get to just treat people like crap.”

  Shocked by his outburst, I went into defensive mode. “Fine, but you did randomly insert yourself into my life and then invade my mind without my permission.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re just like all the other girls.”

  I breathed heavily. “How dare you? I didn’t ask you to hang out with me. You offered to come over here. You followed me out into the woods.” As I said each point out loud, I realized how stupid I was for letting him. “You’re a creep.”

  He stood. “I came over here because I thought you were upset and needed someone. I thought we could talk about what happened earlier. I followed you because you said you weren’t sleeping and you were having nightmares, and I wondered if you were like me. Then after I saw you in my dream, I knew you were like me.”

  “A witch.”

  “Yes! You can’t seriously be in denial about it. You saw what I did. Your room shook when you were crying.”

  Anger bubbled inside me. I pointed my finger at him and felt my face flush red. “I haven’t been able to feel anything for months! Months!” I shouted. “Now I am, and I can’t believe I let it be you who I started opening up to.”

  He went quiet. So did I. My mom called my name from downstairs. “Kate? Why are you shouting?”

  “Great.” I huffed.

  He waved his hand, and my mom stopped shouting.

  “What did you do?”

  “I calmed the energy to make her go back to sleep.”

  I gripped my covers. “How did you do that?”

  “You are full of questions that you apparently don’t want the answers to,” he said with a half-smile.

  I reflected, something I was good at, on my behavior and his words, before relenting. “I’m sorry for shouting at you.”

  His stare softened. “I apologize for not realizing you were opening up to me. You’re a little hard to figure out, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Can we talk about what happened now?” he asked tentatively. “I’ve been itching to talk to someone about it since I figured out what was happening. Now to know there’s someone like me.”

  “We should talk,” I said. “But I need to know something. How did we both start going through the same thing at the same time? Because if this is some when-you-t
urn-seventeen-or-eighteen crap, I’m going to cry at the cliché that is my life.”

  He eyed my bookshelf. “Actually, I was hoping you could help me figure out why it happened at the same time. You read a lot. I always see you with some paranormal book. There must be some truth in the fiction.”

  Talking to him quickly took my mind off my dad. I needed to deal with his death in short bursts because I couldn’t go through the feeling of despair continuously. Like everything else in my life, I would compartmentalize. I had to. For my own sanity.

  We whisked through my limited knowledge about witches from what I had read and formed a list.

  Light and Dark seems to be a theme.

  Powers. Can influence the elements.

  Mind reading.

  Broomsticks – lol.

  Options and spells.

  Covens.

  We took a quick break. “None of this is helpful. We need airtight knowledge. Could there be more of us?”

  “I imagine so. I know of… never mind,” he replied. “We should look into the history of the town and your uncle…”

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to have to explain the whirlwind that was my uncle. I looked at the light coming through the drapes. “It’s so late.”

  He stretched out on my bed and rested his head on my pillow. “Or early.”

  The only sound that could be heard was the clock ticking as time passed. I turned off the light and lay next to him. “Are you staying here?”

  “It’s a little late for me to go home.”

  “We do need to research,” I said, excusing him staying.

  We lay on top of the covers. The residue of my perfume lingered on the pillows.

  “You smell good,” he told me.

  I was glad it was dark so he couldn’t see me blush. “Thanks.”

  Enveloped in blackness, we closed our eyes. His nose was almost touching me as we lay facing each other. I could feel his breaths and, if I listened hard enough, hear his heart beating steadily.

  ***

  It was six when I awoke. Nicholas’s arm was wrapped around me. I let myself enjoy lying there for a few moments before getting up. He looked different when he was sleeping—peaceful, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. When he was awake, he went between self-assured and egotistical to cold, distant, and uncaring. I saw the thoughtful side of him. I may have not known him for long at all, but it did feel as if I’d known him for years. I went between liking him and hating him, which I didn’t get. I normally either liked or disliked a person. I was black and white like that.