A Witch's Mortal Desire (A Distant Edge Romance Book 1)

by Chloe Adler

  Over the years I had taught myself about herbs and a very small amount of Latin. Aurelia wouldn’t allow my sisters to teach me anything but Iphi left her magic books out on purpose for me. Whenever I could, I read them. Usually in my bed under the covers at night with a flashlight. Our mother only worked on spells with my sisters when I wasn’t around, teaching them. But not me. Never me. I always figured it was because I had no powers so it wouldn’t have made a difference, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to know.

  Iphi pulled the plant down. I had expected her to pinch off a small piece but no, she held the entire root in her hands. Without looking at me, she busied herself at the counter, breaking off a section and adding it to the large stone mortar and pestle that always resided there.

  I pushed my chair out as well but not as gracefully or quietly as Iphi had. I deliberately ground the legs against the wood, exaggerating their scrape, like a pirate dragging his pegged leg across a concrete floor.

  She didn’t even turn her head. Iphi, like the rest of my family, was well practiced at ignoring my outbursts whether subtle or not. I made my way over to her slowly as she pulled a jar of powdered monkshood off the shelf to add to the concoction she was brewing.

  “What else, Iphi? I know you have dirt. Spill.”

  That earned me the briefest of glances. Iphi was never mean or even passive-aggressive, but when she didn’t want to tell you something, you couldn’t whack it out of her with a broom.

  I smelled Aurelia’s signature jasmine and spice scent before she entered, my nose trained from years of avoiding her presence. I spun around as she entered the room in a flowing white nightgown made of silk and lace. It was the kind of gown a noblewoman back in the day would have considered wearing to a fancy ball. This was how our mother dressed when she lounged around the house. Her taste was old-fashioned, from the century and Italian province she’d grown up in. Not my taste, but quite elegant.

  Without a word to me, Aurelia swept over the floor soundlessly, pausing at Iphi’s other elbow. She looked down at the ingredients in the mortar for a split second before nodding almost imperceptibly and moving over to the antiquated hearth to manually light the wood and coals beneath the grate.

  Oh, this was going to be one of those days.

  “Really?” I placed my hands on my hips and looked from one to the other as both completely ignored me. “I feel like you two know more about what happened last night than me and Chrys and neither of you were even there.”

  Neither turned to face me. Fine. They could play their little game. Armageddon mewled. My nose filled and itched. The cat was weaving around Iphi’s legs at the hearth. She absentmindedly bent to pet him.

  My sinuses burned. I sniffled, loudly enough to be heard over the loud clanging of the cauldron that Aurelia was placing on the hearth and filling with water. The cool liquid splashed up, landing on the coals and hissing. Steam rose and suddenly filled the room.

  “Quickly, Iphigenia darling, now.” Aurelia turned and motioned to Iphi, sweeping her arm grandly and trailing her Ren Faire–like sleeves through the persistent fog that hung over the pot.

  As fast as lightening, Iphi was next to Mom, dumping the concoction she’d been mixing into the cauldron. The hisses and pops were audible before Aurelia began to stir.

  Without even turning to look at me, Aurelia commanded, “Sadie, get your sister.” Her voice rang out with authority.

  “Chrys,” I bellowed from the spot I was rooted to.

  That earned me a warning flash of Aurelia’s different-colored eyes. I stomped out of the kitchen with such force there was no way they couldn’t hear my obvious displeasure. Using all the power of my hundred and fifteen pounds, I stomped over to Chrys’s door and knocked hard. No sounds emanated from the other side but it was a full minute before she opened it. Looking disheveled, her hair pulled into its usual ponytail, she peeked out at me, blinking several times. Her eyes were rimmed red and her cheeks streaked.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked her, suddenly concerned.

  She shook her head. “Why are you here?” she asked instead.

  “Mom wants you in the kitchen.”

  Chrys opened the door just enough to slip out. I tried to peek in as she did. Her room was always fastidiously clean, so she could only be hiding a new painting she didn’t want me to see. We padded back to the kitchen together, in silence.

  The door to the kitchen hung open. Chrys and I stopped abruptly as a thick fog emanated from inside. I couldn’t see Aurelia or Iphi. Chrys and I exchanged glances when Aurelia called out to us.

  “Girls, enter now.”

  Chrys and I automatically reached for each other’s hands and walked into the haze together. Miraculously, we didn’t walk straight into the table.

  “Good, you girls are already linked. Put out your other hands so we can form our circle.”

  I extended my arm. Iphi immediately grasped my hand, momentarily distracting me. How did she always manage to keep her skin so soft? I’d chalk it up to age, but my skin had never been as soft as hers. Maybe when I had been an infant.

  When Chrys’s hand came into contact with Aurelia’s, the circle we’d cast pulsed with power. As we all chanted, my body pounded rhythmically with the words. It was the only time I truly felt any magical powers and I loved it. It was both familiar and foreign at the same time.

  I still couldn’t see anyone. The fog in our kitchen was as thick as a summer’s day in San Francisco. But it didn’t matter.

  The words of the chant spilled from our lips, in synch, even though I’d never heard the words of this particular spell before. Our shared power created them.

  The mist shifted and swirled, creating visible changes as the pitch of our chanting increased and the words themselves tumbled out at a frenzied pace. The haze thinned in places and I watched in amazement as the fog swirled into the cauldron on the hearth, like it was being sucked in by a magnetic force.

  Our circle pinwheeled as the chanting subsided and each of us added a sentence in Latin. This also happened innately; I couldn’t control it, nor did I want to.

  Since the spell was spoken from oldest to youngest, Iphi was the last to speak. Once complete silence reigned, our hands unclasped and a large puff of smoke escaped from the cauldron. We all walked over to it and looked in. A pink, powdery residue remained.

  Aurelia handed a bay laurel leaf and a small brush whisk to Iphi, who swept the powder up and returned to the counter with it. We all removed our silver filigree amulets, each adorned with a pentacle. They hung forever around our necks. Without a word, we handed them to Iphi. She filled each with a portion of the powder before returning them to us.

  Chrys helped me clasp mine around my neck, and I helped her and then Iphi.

  “For what’s to come,” said Aurelia without making eye contact with any of us and then, as was her annoyingly dramatic habit, she disappeared in front of our eyes.

  Chapter Six

  The campus of the Art Academy, located in the hills above the Edge, was not very big but it was well maintained. They had a reputation, after all. With only five buildings, the college had been built in a semicircle with manicured grounds throughout. The landscaping boasted commissioned sculptures from famous artists. Flowers, trees and shrubs meticulously placed and well-tended brought the entire scene together. Looking at the campus evoked strong feelings. It made students believe they, too, could achieve greatness. I knew because that’s how I felt when I looked at it and I didn’t have an artistic bone in my body. It was like I wasn’t even really part of my family of origin. Chrys was the most talented of all, the true artist. But Iphi was just as much so with her body, an aerialist with grace and beauty. Even Aurelia had a penchant for sewing and knitting the most glorious clothing. Me, nothing.

  The last place I wanted to be was at work. Not only did working at the Art Academy constantly remind me how untalented I was, I also felt like an outsider looking in. As I walked through the courtyard, other art studen
ts passed by, whispering to each other and laughing together. No one paid me any attention.

  My head held high, I stopped to admire the brightly colored birds of paradise and kangaroo paws. Such great names. I’d often thought horticulture would be a cool job. Was it too late to start over, at twenty-one and without a college degree?

  The life drawing class was in Levina Hall on the west side of campus. Arriving early, I changed in the bathroom, taking off my clingy sundress and folding it into my backpack. I always wore slip-on sandals to work during the summer, easy to kick off once inside. I unfolded my bathrobe and threw it over me. Originally, I’d taken this job not just because it paid well, but also because I got a surge of sexual pleasure and strength from people staring at me naked. Eventually that high had worn off and I seemed nowhere closer to the well of self-confidence exuded by my vampire stripping bestie.

  Entering the classroom first, I took my place on the platform in the center of the room and waited as the students filtered in. The thing about this class in particular was that the students were never the same. The school rotated them so everyone would get a chance to draw different models. Even though I’d been doing art modeling for about a year, I had yet to run into my sister. I suspected she found out ahead of time who the model was and chose not to attend my class those days.

  “Sadie?”

  Great, I guess my theory had been wrong.

  “Hi, Chrys.”

  My sister walked by me, scowling. She didn’t even try to hide it. Her upper lip was bunched up so high it practically touched her nose.

  “You know her?” An attractive dark-haired boy asked my sister.

  Chrys proceeded to actually roll her eyes and shake her head. Then she whispered to him, “My sister the exhibitionist.”

  That’s just great. She was humiliating me right before I stripped naked. This could not be a more vulnerable job, something I had not realized when I’d accepted it.

  The guy laughed and tousled his own hair. “Nice, I’d like some of that.”

  I turned my back on them before remembering it was safer to keep your enemies in your line of sight. I waited until my sister chose an easel and started unpacking her supplies. When she was completely set up, I made sure to face her head-on.

  The teacher entered, and as was protocol, she came to talk to me first about what position I wanted to hold for thirty minutes.

  “I’m teaching my students to draw movement. Is there a pose you can hold for thirty minutes that would signify that?”

  “Like an arm swinging or running?”

  “Yes,” she responded and then swiveled her attention toward the door as another student entered. “Excuse me,” she whispered to me. “I don’t recognize that person, and with all of the disappearances lately . . .”

  She moved off toward the new guy who, to me, looked like every other art student, but I suppose that didn’t mean anything anymore. #EveryoneIsASuspect.

  “So, pretty model girl, are you free after class?” came a voice from behind me.

  I turned to see the dark-haired boy Chrys had slut-shamed me to standing far too close to me.

  “Back off.”

  “But your sister indicated that you may be game . . .” He trailed off, smiling broadly, and reached out to touch my arm.

  I slapped his hand away. “I said, back off.” My jaw clenched, nostrils flared.

  “I love a challenge,” he said, winking at me, and walked away.

  Creepy.

  After class I waited outside for Jared to pick me up. He didn’t like me riding my Vespa with a large backpack.

  A short grunt came from behind me and I whirled around to see the dark-haired creeper splayed out on the ground. No one else was in sight. Had he slipped and fallen?

  “Witch,” he snarled up at me.

  His arms were outstretched and his hands opened and closed, grasping at the empty air above him. It took me several seconds to realize he must have tried to grab me. The amulet?

  I offered him my “sucker” smile, the one I reserved for jerks.

  Scrambling to get up, he said, “I’ll overlook the fact that you’re a witch. Come out with me. Girls love what I can do with my tongue.” He stuck it out, waggling it at me, piercing and all. “Give me a try model babe.” He took a step toward me, hands held up as though I was a feral dog about to bite.

  A hollow laugh escaped me and I shook my head as Jared pulled up. When he saw what was going on, he leapt out of his car.

  “Back away from her right now, Tom,” Jared called out.

  “I thought you played for the other team, griffin,” Tom said snidely.

  “You want a piece of me?” Jared asked.

  Tom rolled his eyes. “As if . . .”

  “Then I suggest you turn around and leave. Now.”

  Tom mumbled something under his breath. I had no doubt it was derogatory. Then he turned and walked away.

  “If you ever speak to Sadie again, you’ll actually meet my griffin,” Jared called after him.

  Tom held up one hand without turning around and flicked his wrist high in the air. “Whatever dude, like gay boys can fight. I’m trained in martial arts”

  Jared’s eyes flashed with anger and he took a menacing step towards Tom. I’d never seen that savage look in his eyes before and it scared me.

  “He’s not worth it,” I mumbled into his ear and when Jared swung around to face me I flinched.

  A noise emerged from deep within and then he refocused on me, took my backpack and opened the passenger door.

  “Of course,” he snarled, clearly still agitated.

  Pulling away from the curb he gunned his Mini and we peeled out. I chanced a look over and he was glaring at his rear view.

  To bring him back to me I asked, “How do you even know that guy?”

  “He used to come into the V Club and harass the ladies there. We had to ban him.”

  “Wow, so he’s a sexual predator?”

  “You could say that,” his eyes remained narrow.

  “Well, thanks for being my knight Buns.” I leaned over and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

  Visibly softening he murmured, “Sadie, you’re my family. I’ll always stick up for you. And later, I’ll give you one of my famous foot rubs.”

  My face expanded into a smile. “You sure know how to ply a girl. And. . . I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind . . .” Outside the car window, the distant hills beckoned.

  “Anything.”

  I pulled the scarf from my purse and thrust it toward him. Briefly, he took his eyes from the road and looked at it, then back at me, fingers tapping the steering wheel.

  “It has Ryder’s scent on it.”

  “The man you were dancing with at Promise?”

  “Yes. Can you track him? Find out where he lives?”

  Coyly he cocked his head. “Can’t guarantee it. Depends on how much of his scent I can pick up. For you though, I’ll try.”

  “Buns?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know shifters mate for life . . .” I wasn’t sure how to approach this uncomfortable topic with him.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Either I haven’t met the right person yet or I’m an anomaly. I prefer to think of myself as the latter.”

  “Don’t you want that kind of bond?”

  “Not really, not after losing my parents and sister.”

  I touched his arm lightly.

  Looking at me sideways he offered me one of his lopsided smiles. “You and Burgundy are all I need.”

  “Neither of us has the right kind of equipment,” I giggled.

  “Sure. Sure. Emotionally then. You’re my fam. Sexually I prefer being a slut.”

  Chapter Seven

  Several hours later, I was standing in a line to enter the V Club. Strange. There’d never been a line before.

  “Step over here, ma’am,” a burly football-player-looking dude said to me in a deep, clipped voice. He was motioning to a separate line on the ri
ght side with mostly women standing in it.

  “What’s going on?” I blinked up at him while twirling a strand of my hair around one finger. Disarming. Flirty.

  “Management heightened security. It’s for your own protection.” He motioned toward the line again.

  “What are the lines for?”

  “Security search, ma’am. For weapons and such.”

  My hands met my hips. “So we’re getting frisked now?”

  The guard looked uncomfortable, pulling the collar of his T-shirt away from his neck. “Patted down gently, ma’am. Now please . . .” He motioned toward the line with a sweeping gesture and I reluctantly complied.

  “Why are we standing in separate lines?” I asked the girl in front of me.

  “Oh, we can only get searched by a female but the guys can get searched by either male or female.” She waved toward the line next to ours, which was significantly shorter and contained only men.

  There was a loud guffaw behind me. I glanced quickly over my shoulder to see Tom, the shifter from Chrys’s art class standing with another guy. Both were dressed in the SoCal surfer-dude uniform of flip-flops and puka shell necklaces. Luckily, he hadn’t spotted me and I faced front quickly.

  “Dude, can we get searched twice?” Tom’s friend snickered.

  “I’ll let that security hottie touch me all night,” Tom replied and they laughed.

  “Hey, I’m getting a call. Let’s smoke a cigarette first,” his friend said and their voices faded as they moved away.

  I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in.

  It took about ten minutes to pass through the line of security. I needed a drink. I moved to a bar stool and was fingering my amulet when Jared sauntered in. Wordlessly he plopped down on the stool next to me, rubbing the back of my neck. This wasn’t good. Jared only touched me when he had bad news. He had been acting strangely earlier when he’d driven me home, barely speaking in the car.

  “What is it?” I tried not to sound annoyed, because I loved the way he was rubbing my neck and he must be feeling bad for whatever news he was holding back.