The Oath (The Coven Series Book 2)
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The Oath
Book Two of The Coven Series
By Apryl Baker
The Oath
Copyright © 2014 by Apryl Baker. All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: October 2014
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1502393081
ISBN-10: 1502393085
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
For my Dad who has shown me what
true strength and courage is.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Prologue
She killed herself.
Everyone asked why, why would she have done it? She’d had everything a girl could want. She was a junior, dated the quarterback, and had a gaggle of friends. Everyone aspired to be like her, Little Miss Perfect, the All American Girl. Blonde, beautiful, bubbly, and all those other B words that made me gag and want to puke. Jenny had no reason to even think of killing herself, but she’d done it. That fact was undeniable. When I got my hands on her diary, though, I understood exactly why.
Now, six months later, I stared at the girl in the mirror as I removed my nose ring. Gone was the black hair, replaced by golden blonde locks that made my sapphire blue eyes shine and my California sun-kissed skin glow. The Goth chic clothes had been put away, and I wore a pink tank top and a pair of khaki colored Capris. Stylish sandals completed the outfit. I wanted to barf.
They were all going to pay for my sister’s death. By the end of the week, they’d be praying to whatever god they worshipped to hide them from the hell coming for them.
I swore an oath to my sister the day I finished reading her journal. Retribution would be hers. She would be avenged, or my name wasn’t Melinda Rose James.
May the Fates have mercy upon them all, because they would pay the same price they’d demanded of her.
Their lives.
Chapter One
~ Arrival ~
My dad swore I used to love the snow. He lied through his teeth. Five inches of snow blanketed Falls Church, Virginia when my plane landed. I burrowed deeper into my light jacket and thought of a million ways I could get even with the old man for telling me it couldn’t be that much colder in Virginia than it had been when I left LA. I grabbed my carryon and raced out of the biting wind and into the terminal. My grandmother waited patiently by the baggage claim area. She looked like she was in her forties, but she had to be at least eighty if she was a day. Elizabeth James looked good for an old woman. She could be my mom instead of my Granny. I hoped I’d inherited her genes. Dad was already turning gray, and he was barely thirty-eight.
“Melinda!” I cringed at the bear hug she wrapped me in. I loved Gran to death, but I hated anyone touching me. She knew this and ignored it. “Let me look at you.” I dutifully turned, and she beamed at me. “I swear you look just like your mother, bless her soul.”
Mom died when I was four and Jenny five. I didn’t even remember her, really, only a vague recollection of someone who used to pour me cereal in the mornings. I couldn’t even say I missed her because I didn’t remember her, but there were times I did miss having a mom. Like the first time I’d gotten my period and I told my dad I’d needed him to go the store and buy some pads. He’d looked confused until I’d explained to him what type of pads I was referring to. He’d driven me to the store, his face as red as the fire engine we passed on the way to the supermarket. I grinned at the memory.
“I’m so sorry about your sister, Meli. I know you two had gotten close the last few years.”
My mind skidded to a halt on the happy memory. Jenny and I had only seen each other once since our mom died. We shared the same mother, but had different fathers. My dad tried to talk Jenny’s dad into letting her stay with us. Dad had raised her since she was less than a year old and loved her like his own, but Mr. Melton refused. He’d taken Jenny and moved to whereabouts unknown at the time. Dad, unable to cope with the loss of both his wife and his daughter, had taken me to Los Angeles.
Jenny and I found each other on Facebook about three years ago, and we’d been Skyping ever since. She’d been a little standoffish at first, but then she hadn’t expected me to be a Goth Queen. I couldn’t say I’d been all that happy to find out she was freaking Miss Pom-Pom either, but we were sisters and we coped. She and I talked every day for three years. We’d become real sisters again. That was the reason I was here in this frozen icicle of a town. She and I may have been as different as two people could be, but we were sisters, and we loved each other.
We discovered we’d been within miles of each other every summer and hadn’t known it. I spent most of my summers here with Gran, while she’d played in the next town over. We’d all lived in Ohio before Mom died, and then Gran migrated to Virginia after Dad and I went to LA. Fate could be cruel sometimes. If we’d found each other sooner, maybe none of this would have happened. She’d be alive, and I wouldn’t be about to commit mass murder.
I hated deceiving Dad and Gran. They both believed I wanted to come here so I could be closer to Jenny, to deal with my grief. I’d let them believe that was the reason for the complete three-sixty in my appearance as well. Jenny and I shared the same color blonde hair, but when I decided to go Goth to piss off Dad and thumb my nose at society in general, I’d gone all the way. Black on black. I hated the stigma of being blonde, but I forced myself to tolerate it for her. I had no remorse for my plans, only for deceiving the people I loved. When this was over, I hoped they’d be able to understand and forgive me.
A boy caught my attention further down the baggage claim belt. He stared at me from under a mop of unruly golden locks with an intensity I couldn’t even begin to describe. His black eyes looked straight through me. I fidgeted, feeling guilty for my thoughts of revenge when he looked at me with those eyes full of the remorse I should be feeling, but didn’t. It made me angry. I glared in return. He smiled and turned away. An uneasy and slightly slimy feeling hit me, believe it or not. I’d never had that feeling before, no matter what type of black magic I used. I tended to like the darker spells. You got more oomph out of your spells if you steeped them in black magic. The emotions running amok through me just then didn’t sit well with me. I needed to focus on the t
ask at hand. I needed to avenge my sister’s death.
“Let’s get you home, Meli, dear.”
Gran had already gotten my luggage while I’d stood staring at the boy like a ridiculous blonde. Wait. My hand went to my hair. Damn, I was the ridiculous blonde chickie now. I sighed heavily.
I followed her outside, and we rode the airport shuttle to parking. I turned on the heater in the car and shivered for the first fifteen minutes. The cold and I were not going to be buddies. Gran chatted away at me, and I nodded where I thought I should, but I didn’t really pay any attention to her. Instead, I kept thinking about tomorrow when I’d go to school. I still wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to get “in” with the seniors. My junior status didn’t help. The new blonde image and the bubbly – gag – clothes might help, but could I pull it off? I would find a way. Failure was not an option.
Gran’s house never failed to amaze me. I loved it. The three story structure was an old Victorian she’d restored from scratch. Its wrap-around porch was perfect for just sitting and idling the day away. I’d spent many a lazy summer afternoon on that porch reading and daydreaming. The house was bright, warm, and inviting. It felt like home.
My usual room was done in pale grays and a deep rose color. It fit my personality to a tee, or at least it used to. Gran fixed up the room I called the Princess suite for me. It was done in pale pinks and purples with white furniture and a big white canopy bed. The adjoining bathroom was also done in soft shades of pink and white, not gaudy, mind you, just soft undertones. Gran had too much class to ever have one of those cheaply decorated places you saw on the fixer-uppers on HGTV. If I needed to have friends over, I had to have a room that fit the new Barbie look. Gran never blinked when I asked her if I could use the Princess room instead of my own. She assumed I was trying to be closer to my sister by being more like her. I hated deceiving her, but there was no other recourse.
Miss Nell’s steaming hot cocoa waited for me in the kitchen. It helped with the shivers. I hadn’t been warm since we’d hit the Rockies. I gave her a huge grin and settled at the kitchen table to soak up the heat from the stone mug. Nell Johnson, or Miss Nell as everyone called her, had been my Gran’s housekeeper for as long as I could remember. She made the best hot chocolate in the world and never once blinked at us practicing witchcraft when she herself was as religious as any bible-belt fanatic. I’d always admired her for not judging, but accepting us for who we were.
The kitchen smelled of apples and cinnamon, another favorite childhood memory of mine. I loved Gran’s apple pie. Christmas was around the corner, and I knew Gran would drag me into the kitchen to help her with the baking. Although we didn’t technically celebrate the Christian aspect of the holiday, Gran loved the decorations and the sentiment of family behind it. She put up a tree, decorated outside and inside, and baked herself silly every year. Gifts wrapped in bright packages with little Santas and Frostys arrived for Dad and me each year.
I secretly loved the holiday too, minus the snow, of course. I liked the California Christmas with warmth and sunshine and lounging in front of the air conditioner. This year I’d freeze my butt off, though.
Jenny loved Christmas too, or at least she had. She went to Mass every Christmas Eve and would always call me as soon as she got back to wish me a Merry Christmas. Her enthusiasm for the Christmas holiday never failed to amaze me. It wasn’t the gifts or the fake reindeer decorations; Jenny had truly believed in her God and in angels and miracles. That was another reason I hadn’t bought the whole suicide thing. Her faith taught that if you killed yourself, you went to Hell. I wonder if it counted if she’d been forced to do it, or if there were no gray areas with suicide in her religion. I guess it didn’t really matter.
She’d never see another Christmas.
Tomorrow payback started.
Chapter Two
~ Xavier ~
Westover Academy was one of the things Falls Church was famous for. The school was an Elite school. Not just anyone could get in. They only accepted the best of the best from all across the country. Thankfully, while I’d been all decked out in my Goth chic, I’d also worked hard at school. I had a 4.0 average and won the national science fair competition the last five years running. That alone managed to get me in. The Fates, at least, were working with me and not against me.
The school had been more than happy to take me. I’d worked a bit of magic of my own and made sure my school picture got swapped out in the file my old school forwarded to Westover. They’d take one look at the black and run the other way, no matter how much prestige I brought them. It was just that kind of school.
Everywhere I looked, people were all neat and proper. Perfect people in their perfect clothes and their perfect hair. I shuddered on the inside at the sameness of it all, even as I smiled at the people looking my way in their proper little school uniforms. Like them, I wore an ugly brown pleated skirt and green blazer. So very, very wrong.
I got several wolf whistles while I waited for my schedule in the office. I ignored them. I knew I was pretty, more than pretty. Most witches, male or female, were beautiful. I always thought it had something to do with the fact we deal with nature’s truest forms all the time, which was pure beauty in and of itself. It rubbed off on us. We reflected the purity of the Elements. That was my theory anyway.
At least my whole blonde bombshell exterior was working with the brain dead boys. Now, the real question was could I get the attention of those nasty little wannabe witches?
My first chance came after my third period class. I finally managed to find my locker. I tried the combination three times, yanking hard on the lock. The guy beside me gave me a sympathetic look. His curly brown hair almost overwhelmed his brown eyes. I couldn’t make up my mind if he screamed geek or cool. It was that hard to tell. He had a certain confidence about him that said cool, but his demeanor also cried out chess club nerd.
“I had that locker last year,” he told me. “If you can get it unlocked, it’s best to leave it that way.”
“But then anyone can get into my stuff!” Dismay colored my words, but I wasn’t that concerned. I noticed the group of girls just down the hall watching us with interest. I’d done my research. These were the girls I wanted to notice me.
“Yeah, but it’s better than being late to every class, and trust me, there are certain classes you don’t want to be late for.”
I yanked on the lock one last time. “To hell with this.” I stepped back, concentrated on the lock, and said, “Open.”
The locker door sprang open. The people around us stopped chatting and stared. I put my things inside, keeping only a notebook and a pen. I shut the door and turned the lock to make sure it clicked.
“How did you do that?” The boy frowned.
“Magic.”
“Magic?”
“I’m a witch.” I smiled at him and started down the hall to my next class. He caught up to me about halfway there.
“Seriously, how did you do that?”
I spied the girls who had been watching us out of the corner of my eye. They too were hurrying to catch up. “I already told you, I’m a witch.”
“A witch?” He laughed. “What, did you cast a spell on it or something?”
“Or something.” I winked at him.
“You realize how insane you sound?”
I shrugged and went into the chemistry lab. The teacher directed me to the only empty table in the room. Mr. Nosy stared at me from two tables over. The girl next to him said something which he ignored. She glared at me. Girlfriend. She looked too pissed off to be anything else. Like I’d ever be interested in Mr. Nosy.
The air shifted, warmed. I heard gasps from the female students and looked up. My mouth dropped open slightly. The guy from the airport! No way. Yet there he was, speaking to the teacher, and then he turned in my direction when Mr. Simon waved him toward the only empty seat in the room. The one beside me. All the girls were staring, me included. How could you not?
His eyes swept the room and then focused on me. Something happened. To me.
You read all those books about the heroine who feels the earth move or time stop when she meets her Prince Charming, and you think to yourself, yeah right, never gonna happen. I’d always scoffed at the very idea. Not anymore.
Those obsidian eyes pierced me, and I couldn’t breathe. The earth shifted under me. Everyone and everything else disappeared, and for just a moment, time really did stop. My heartbeat shifted into warp speed one – yes, I was secretly a closet Treky – and I became trapped in those eyes. I could drown in them and die a happy camper. Their warmth changed, his gaze probing, and became accusing. He saw through the mask, to the girl under the makeup and the clothes. He saw me. I felt his reproach all the way into the heart of my soul. He couldn’t know. There was no way he could know what I was up to, but I had the strangest feeling he did.
He looked away, and I was able to draw air into my oxygen deprived lungs. I’d never in all my seventeen years had this kind of reaction to anyone, especially a guy. Don’t get me wrong, I’d had plenty of crushes and more than a few boyfriends, but no one ever made me forget to breathe before. I always laughed at the girls who went all goofy over a guy, and now here I sat doing just that. It had to be the blonde hair. It was like a disease infecting my brain or something. It was the only sane explanation I had for going all gaga over a boy. A gorgeous boy, mind you, but still just a boy.