Get Witch Quick (Wicked Society Book 1)

by Daisy Prescott

“Dr. Philips loves to say that for half a millennium, Puritans have been drawn to witches. Seems to be a love-hate fascination.” Andrew sounds resigned.

  “Your godfather is right, Andrew. There exists a double helix of two parallel worlds, interconnected by marriages and children who carry the DNA of both sides.” Geoffrey continues. “Over the years, more bloodlines have been added, making it difficult to track the magic.”

  “If powers reveal themselves around eighteen and twenty-one, why do genetic lines matter?” Sam asks, a slight edge of bitterness to her voice. “You either are, or aren’t a witch. Some of us are mere mortals.”

  “Samantha.” Geoffrey focuses his attention on her. “Every witch has different powers. If Sarah believes you’re a wind witch, you should believe her. Don’t doubt your abilities because you are a late bloomer.”

  “Why now? If the book has been safe for hundreds of years, why the focus on it now?” Tate questions.

  Geoffrey slides a slim, leather-bound volume off of a shelf. It’s approximately the same size as the one the ghosts showed me at the Winthrops’. Unlike the secret book, the one in Geoffrey’s hand is embossed with gold. He casually flips through the pages. “There is a small group who wishes to control all magic power, and within that group, there are those who wish to destroy it completely. They’re willing to use whatever it takes to bend the world to their will. It’s up to us to stop them. And that’s why you’re here.”

  He hands the open book to Sam, who reads out loud, “The light will always return, even when darkness appears to dominate.”

  Geoffrey nods. “As more and more people are able to tap into magic, there will be pushback from those who wish the world to remain the same, or even go back in time to when such things were persecuted. This is what happened in Salem three hundred years ago. Fear of change led to hysteria.”

  “Is that…” I pause, unsure of how to phrase my question, so I just point at Sam.

  “You tell me since you’ve had the honor of seeing the original.” His gaze pierces me with its intensity.

  “Is this a twin to the one we found?” Sam clamps her hand over her mouth and drops the book to her lap. With wide eyes, she stares at me with apology. “Oh, Füchtorf, Germany. I’m sorry.”

  Sam doesn’t use standard curse words. She has her own personal version of foul language. Füchtorf is the ultimate F-word for her.

  “That answers my question. Based on our research, we created a few variations of a black book as described in various letters and journals in our collection. This one is my personal favorite. I take it we’ve succeeded?”

  “May I?” I ask Sam as I walk toward her. Picking up the book, I hold it in my hands to study it more closely. “The weight and dimensions are close, very close. However, the decoration is all wrong.”

  “We guessed as to the pattern.” Geoffrey pulls several more black volumes from the shelves. After laying them out on the table, he asks, “How wrong did we get it?”

  “Completely.” I flip over each of the five variations, tracing a finger over the tooling and gold decoration. When I get to the simplest one, having the phases of the moon on its cover, I pause. “It should be plain and unremarkable. If you didn’t know that, this one might fool you. May I open it?”

  “Of course.” Geoffrey nods.

  Inside, the same quote Sam just read appears to be handwritten on the first page. “Why attempt to copy a book you’ve never seen?”

  “If we can retrieve the original and bring it here to study, we’ll need something to put in its place. Because of the mole in the Salem coven, the original’s location is known outside of our circle. It’s only a matter of time before someone will attempt to steal it.”

  I glance at my friends. “The four of us are the only ones who know what the real one looks like and its exact location.”

  “Exactly.” Geoffrey nods. “For now, we have an advantage. The copy might provide us time to unlock the secrets in the true black book before our enemies figure out they have a fake.”

  “Retrieve the real book. Learn its secrets. Kick evil’s ass?” I ask, hoping there’s a simple plan we can follow.

  Geoffrey gives me an indulgent smile. “If only it were that easy. Stanford has unleashed a darkness we haven’t faced in a long time.”

  “The corpse magic?” Sam asks. “I’ve read about using bones in spellwork. Although, the spells I’ve seen involve animal bones, not human.”

  “And why use bones in magic?” Geoffrey prompts her.

  “To tap into the animal spirit’s power,” she replies, and then stops abruptly. “Oh, they’re hoping to use the ancients’ powers. If the family lines have been diluted, going back to the beginning would give them more concentrated power.”

  “Smart girl.” Geoffrey beams at her, flashing his straight white teeth. “Bravo.”

  Tate also grins and holds up his palm for a high five from Sam. “See? We need you.”

  “Can’t the covens put a binding spell on my father and his club? Create a collective amnesia and erase their memories in order to stop them?” Andrew exhales a resigned breath. “I know, I know. First rule of magic: whatever we put out into the world comes back to us threefold.”

  “Always.” Geoffrey collects the four rejected volumes and returns them to the shelf. He leaves the approved fake on the table. “Hope you’re up for a field trip on Thursday.”

  “The aquarium?” Tate jokes. “That was always my favorite class trip.”

  Not even faking a smile, Geoffrey continues as if Tate never spoke. “Smith will be driving us to collect the book in Marblehead.”

  “Thanks for the head’s up that you’re taking me to my family house,” Tate snips.

  “This is your advance notice. We’ll go early and should avoid running into anyone,” Geoffrey explains.

  Smith reappears in the doorway. “Sir, are we ready?”

  Geoffrey stands. “Before lunch, we’ll give you a quick tour and introduce you to some of the staff. We’ll begin in the kitchen with Mrs. Peale, our cook. Breakfast and lunch will be in the dining room every day. We like to eat as a group.”

  Too many thoughts cloud my mind. I mindlessly stand and sweep a hand over my black skirt. Tate and Sam follow Geoffrey into the hall.

  “You okay?” Andrew wraps his hand around mine, lacing our fingers together.

  I take a step to join our friends, but then stop. “Not really. Completely overwhelmed. How did we get here? Who decided we’re the ones to save the world? Because they should probably be fired. Your mother, or Dr. Philips, have decades of experience and knowledge. Shouldn’t they be in charge?”

  “They haven’t abandoned us. If the coven is compromised by Mrs. Howe, then they need to keep their distance. Or at least the appearance of the status quo. Trust me?” He drags the back of a finger down my cheek.

  “I do.”

  “Let’s go out tonight. I know a great pizza place down the street.” He gives me a quick kiss.

  “Are we allowed to leave? Sounds like Geoffrey expects us to stick to a schedule. Like we’re at summer camp.”

  “It’s our first day here. I’m sure I can convince him to let us have the evening free.” Andrew lifts an eyebrow.

  “How?” And then it clicks. “Tate? You think his powers will work on the director?”

  “If needed, but I’ve found a loophole. Geoffrey didn’t mention dinner.”

  “I like the way your mind works.” I squeeze his hand.

  “And how is that?” He mirrors the pressure back at me.

  “Devious.”

  “Anything to have some time alone with you. Between finals and my graduation, we’ve hardly spent time together.” He sneaks one more kiss before we join the group in the hall.

  Five

  Holding hands, Andrew and I slip through the gate and into the alley. The still warm evening air wraps around me, welcome after spending the day in the artificially cooled rooms of the brownstone. The summer solstice is still o
ver a month away and the sun bathes the streets in alternating shadows and golden light.

  At the end of the short block, Andrew pauses. “I can’t believe we’ve only been here a day. Doesn’t it feel like longer? Like time exists at a different pace inside there? Or is it just me? I’ve been impatient to get you alone.”

  “My brain feels like a pureed smoothie of facts and new information. And who unpacked and folded all of my underwear? You don’t think it was Sunshine, do you?” I shudder at the thought.

  “Maybe one of the other staff did it. There could be a telekinetic we haven’t met.” He turns and walks down the hill toward Charles Street.

  “It’s all a blur. I’ve forgotten everyone’s name and what their title is. Other than Mrs. Peale, I only remember her because she’s the cook and reminds me of Martha.”

  The sound of traffic, complete with impatient honking, is a welcome noise after the quiet of the Society. While we’ve spent the day touring the building and discussing magic, the rest of Boston has had a typical Monday.

  “That’s because she’s her sister. Did you miss that part?” Chuckling, he slows his pace to merge into the evening pedestrian traffic on Beacon Hill’s busiest street.

  “Completely. Makes sense why the brownies at lunch were almost as good as at Martha’s café.”

  Lined with shops, restaurants, and cafés, Charles Street bustles with energy. I peer into each window as we stroll down the sidewalk. “This reminds me of Salem. Do you think we can swing by the Black Book and visit Martha on Thursday?”

  “During our super-secret mission? Probably not.” He frowns. “We’re not supposed to tell anyone about the visit. In and out as quickly as possible.”

  “Right. I forgot we’re secret agents now.” I inhale the scent of garlic and fresh dough. “We must be close to the pizzeria. My mouth is watering.”

  Andrew holds the door for me and we enter the softly lit restaurant. Brick-lined walls, black tables and chairs, and white candles create a charming but simple interior.

  The dark-haired host with thick, bushy eyebrows asks if we’d like the table for two by the front window facing the street.

  “We’d prefer something more private,” Andrew replies, pointing to a table in the far back corner near the hall to the bathrooms and kitchen.

  Once we’re seated, I ask why.

  “After all the talk of spies and my father, I think it’s smart to avoid being spotted in the city together, especially around here. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.” He picks up his menu.

  “You’re probably right. I feel like our entire summer is going to be spent in dimly lit, windowless rooms.” I’m pouting, but I don’t care. “Instead of a tan, we’ll end up pale like vampires.”

  Andrew gapes at me over the top of his menu. “Really? Vampires? The bloodsucking undead?”

  “Please, whatever you do, don’t say that vampires are real, too. Or werewolves, or shapeshifting rabbits. I’m still processing familiars and cat spies. And after all of the talk today about mysterious dark magic, which I’m still not clear about, I can’t handle more revelations. I want to eat pizza, drink cheap Chianti, and maybe, if I’m lucky, play footsies with my hot boyfriend under the table.”

  He lowers his menu and stares into my eyes, sliding his shoe against my sandaled foot. “Why do you think I wanted to sit back here? We could be making out behind our menus and no one will pay any attention to us.”

  His intensity makes me giggle. I lift my menu and hold it parallel to my head, creating a privacy screen. “Really?”

  He mirrors me and then leans forward. “Let’s test the theory.”

  We only manage to press our lips together for a few seconds, barely the start of a kiss, before our waitress clears her throat to get our attention.

  “Do you want to hear the specials or should I ignore you for a while so you can canoodle?” Her voice is friendly as she sets down two glasses of water. “We’re not that busy yet, so it’s really up to you.”

  We’re still leaning over the table, holding our menus upright, frozen with our mouths an inch apart. My eyes are wide with embarrassment, but Andrew’s expression is amused.

  “We’ll have a bottle of your best, cheapest Chianti,” Andrew tells her, his breath warm against my lips. “Thank you.”

  “Gotcha.” Her laughter trails behind her when she walks away.

  Sitting back, I use my menu to cover my face. “I’m glad it’s dark in here and no one can tell my face is the color of pizza sauce right now.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. It appears we’re not the only couple to take advantage of this corner’s privacy.” He rests his hand on my arm. “Let’s figure out what we’re ordering.”

  We decide on a mushroom and sausage pizza to share. When our waitress returns with our wine, she smiles at us in a knowing, but cheerful way. Her red hair is cropped short and she wears a rose gold ring in her nose.

  “Are you new in town?” she asks, unscrewing the cap on our wine. “Or just visiting?”

  Andrew answers, “Neither and a little of both.”

  “Sorry. I’m not prying. Just making conversation.” She pours a small amount of wine in both of our glasses to taste.

  “We’re from Salem.” I give her the simplest answer. “Spending the summer working in the city.”

  “I love Salem. I’m obsessed with all things Wicca. Ugh, why would you leave it there and move to the city? Especially here.” She glances around and lowers her voice. “It’s so boring and uptight.”

  “Good pizza?” I ask, half-joking.

  “We do have a decent coffee place a few doors down. The guy who runs it can be super cranky, but it’s the best you’ll find in this area.”

  “Thanks for the tip. If we’re in this area again, we’ll check it out,” Andrew replies.

  I lift my eyebrows in question, but he ignores me. Instead, he orders our pizza. With no reason to hang around, our waitress leaves us.

  “If we’re in the area? We live two blocks away. I’m confused.”

  “We need to be careful.” He frowns. “This wasn’t a good idea.”

  “Why the sudden stranger danger? She seemed nice.”

  “Boston’s a city, but it’s also a small town.”

  “So is Salem.” I’m not trying to be dense. “We don’t know anyone around here.”

  “No, but my father does. If sweet Mrs. Howe could be a spy, so could a waitress in a pizza joint. Or the guy at the coffee shop.” He glances around at the other tables.

  “You’re sounding paranoid.”

  He gives me a wry smile. “Humor me, please. We should get our pizza and go home. Even have naked dinner, which would be more fun than kissing behind our menus.”

  “We’re sharing the apartment with Sam and Tate. I’m not sure they’ll be happy about our naked pizza dinner.” I smirk at him.

  “This is why we have our own bedrooms. With doors that lock.” His sly smile holds wicked promises.

  “Check, please,” I say loudly, raising my hand.

  Andrew laughs, almost choking on his wine.

  The waitress returns carrying our pizza and leaves to collect a box along with the check and a bag for us to bring our wine home.

  Once outside, I glance back into the restaurant. She gives me a friendly wave through the window.

  “Let’s take the long way through the park.” Andrew shifts the pizza box to his left hand and takes my hand with his right.

  “Afraid she’s going to abandon her job to follow us home?” I squeeze his hand.

  “No, of course not.” He stops walking and releases my hand to open the box, lifting the pizza and peering underneath.

  “What are you looking for? Her number?” I joke because he’s acting weird and that makes me nervous, and when I’m nervous I get sarcastic or fire off bad jokes.

  “Making sure she didn’t add a tracking device.” He grins, popping a mushroom into his mouth.

  “I really can’t
tell if you’re being serious.” I pull my brows together.

  “Mostly not serious.” He resumes walking and holding my hand. “Something feels off and I can’t pinpoint it. I’m sure I’ll feel better once we’re back at the Society.”

  Andrew’s the calm and logical one. If he’s unsettled, that can’t be good.

  At the end of the alley, we both check behind us and wait to make sure there are no other pedestrians around before we quickly stride to the gate.

  Upstairs on the fourth floor, we find Sam and Tate in our shared living room, engaged in a heated discussion about runes. Not wanting to get sucked into that, I duck into my room, pull Andrew in behind me, and lock the door.

  His shoulders bounce with laughter. “What was that about?”

  “I have no idea. Are they flirt-bickering about ancient stones?” I whisper, unsure of how sound travels here.

  “No idea.” He sets the box on my dresser. “But let’s take advantage of the fact that they’re completely occupied with each other and won’t miss us.”

  “Are you still hungry?” I sit on the edge of my bed, thankful it’s a queen and not a twin like in the Hawthorne dorms.

  He arches an eyebrow. “Depends. For food? No.”

  His words send a shiver of anticipation through my body. Without touching me, he manages to turn me on with a glance and a few words.

  Toeing off my shoes, I scoot myself back on the bed. He does the same, only he crawls over me until he can press the length of his body against mine.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispers into my neck right before he kisses the spot where my shoulder begins.

  “We were together all day.” I wrap my arms around him and then run my fingers along his spine.

  “With other people, listening to Geoffrey talk for hours.” His breath warms my skin. “I can think of at least four things I’d rather do for hours with you.”

  His mouth finds mine in a deep kiss that leaves me breathless.

  “That’s one.”

  I press my lips against his, opening my thighs to cradle his hips. He slowly grinds against me.

  “This could be two, but we’re wearing too many clothes.” His voice is raspy with need.