Soothed by Magic: Hidden Coven Series, Book 2

by Kim McDougall

  Quinn watched for a few more minutes. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it in his bones. He should have brought Abilene with him. She could read Fain’s aether better. Quinn’s sensate skills weren’t strong enough, but he could feel Bobbi’s aether, even from a distance. They’d connected—literally—when they rejoined the core to the ley-line. He’d recognize her magic anywhere.

  And tonight he could tell something was wrong. Her aether felt compressed. She burned bright, her magic eager and curious as it always was, but the brightness swirled around her in a tight ball, like a protective shield.

  Maybe it was nerves or hesitation that gave her aether an odd flare—nerves because Bobbi was really into this guy.

  The thought of her with someone else tightened his gut. He wasn’t a possessive man, but some feral part of him wanted to claw past his good nature and snarl: Bobbi is mine.

  Despite this savage side, it wasn’t jealousy that brought him out to spy. If Bobbi wanted to break up with him, he’d deal. But she hadn’t said a word. When she cancelled her weekly magic lesson with Abilene, he hadn’t worried. They were busy at the coven, training new vestals. Bobbi was busy too. She brought her spinning wares to fall festivals all around the state. So he’d let it slide.

  When she cancelled this week’s lesson by text, doubt nagged him, but he’d been caught up in Siranda’s latest prophecy of doom. The coven’s seer was completely mad, but every now and then, she babbled a kernel of truth, and it was his job to follow up on each lead. So, he’d put his worries about Bobbi aside as he chased down another dead end to finding Koro, the demon who’d attacked the coven in August.

  Then Gavin came home this morning with news of his encounter with Bobbi in Ashlet.

  “Did you know she was seeing someone new?” he’d asked. No, Quinn hadn’t known. To be fair, he and Bobbi hadn’t made any formal declarations to each other. They were taking things slow, savoring the sweet intensity of a new relationship. Or so he’d thought.

  Bobbi laughed at something Fain said. She touched his face in a way that was altogether too intimate. With his free hand, Quinn gripped the rough branch under his fingers, wishing it was someone’s neck.

  Bobbi stood to clear the dinner dishes. Fain followed, never more than a step away. He nuzzled her neck. She kissed him. They moved into the kitchen, embraced by the sink, their silhouettes plain in the window. Quinn put down the binoculars. He didn’t know what was worse: watching them kiss, or the next moment, when they left his view and headed down a hall leading to her bedroom.

  He waited. His aether was weak and a wave of dizziness swept over him. Even the simple obfuscation spell taxed him. He clutched his cockroach necklace in one hand and a branch in the other. The talisman was a magic battery, a vessel for storing aether. He only used it when he had no time for exhaustion, like tonight. The roach amulet gave him a boost and the weakness faded.

  He returned his attention to the windows, scrutinizing empty rooms. They were still in the front of the house, outside his view. He didn’t want to think of what they could be doing.

  Below, a patch of burned ground showed where Bobbi had attempted her fire spell less than three months ago. It felt like a lifetime since the night he burst through the back gate to find Bobbi spell-locked and near death, aether glowing around her like the halo of an angel. She’d looked so fragile, he thought he might break her as they ran for the car.

  But she wasn’t fragile. A streak of steel ran through Bobbi. More than once, she’d faced horrors with strength and grace. She killed a wraith, for gods’ sake. Not even Jane could do that. Bobbi was a burning coal of untapped aether, and he’d been looking forward to learning exactly how far magic would take her.

  A girlish giggle came from inside the house. Quinn cringed. How had he missed the signs? He thought they were heading for a future together. William Fain blindsided him. Had he misread Bobbi’s intentions? He thought back to their last encounter.

  They’d planned for dinner and a movie, but conversation had flowed through the meal, then coffee, then digestifs. They missed the movie entirely and only left when the tired waiter extinguished candles on nearby tables. The whole night, they’d touched in little ways—a finger curled around a thumb, a brush of hair away from her face. They were heading for the bedroom, but he didn’t rush it. They had a lifetime to explore each other sexually, but only a few first dates to savor what was coming. Dragging out those exquisite moments had felt like the best decision he’d ever made. She’d felt the same. He was sure of it. He couldn’t be that witless.

  No more sound or movement came from the house. He shifted on his perch, made more uncomfortable by thoughts of that last date.

  Were they in the bedroom? He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t burst through the door and confront them while they made love. But he couldn’t sit in this tree and imagine Bobbi with her legs wrapped around another man either.

  He had to admit defeat. Bobbi had moved on. He hadn’t thought she was the callous type—to drop a guy without so much as a text—but he’d been wrong before. He slid sideways, reaching down with one leg for the fence.

  The patio door slid open. He froze, then pumped more aether into his obfuscation spell, ignoring another surge of dizziness.

  Bobbi came out carrying a tray with candles and other accessories for an altar. Fain followed with the champagne and two glasses. He was plain with a round face that had no angles, slightly paunchy and dressed in a collared t-shirt. He was the innocuous boy next door.

  Quinn sat as still as possible, barely daring to breathe. Obfuscation spells worked best on mundanes. He wasn’t sure about Fain, but Bobbi had enough sensate magic to spot him if she made an effort to really look.

  “Such spells are best done sky-clad.” Fain spoke with a faint British accent. It sounded fake. His lips shone wetly in the dim light.

  “You’re kidding. It’s too cold.” She shivered, despite the warm wind.

  “You won’t feel it. Trust me.” Fain pulled her to him and kissed her. Bobbi’s arms circled his neck. Quinn held his breath until they broke apart.

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “I do, but I’ve never cast a spell in the nude. It feels awkward.” Bobbi placed her tray on the low table she used for an altar.

  “Are you afraid I’ll ravish you?” He dipped her into an exaggerated bow, like a ballroom dancer and pretended to bite her neck. Bobbi squealed. Quinn’s heart hurt.

  Fain righted her. “I promise, my dear, I will ravish you one day when the time is right. And on that day our worlds will change.”

  This guy was smooth.

  “But not tonight?” Bobbi sounded both relieved and disappointed.

  “Not tonight,” Fain said with a leer. “Tonight we practice magic, so you can learn to control it and not drop baskets on the heads of irate customers.”

  There had to be a story behind that comment, a story Bobbi would have once confided in Quinn.

  Fain set up the altar, candles, bowls of salt and water, athame and incense—all very traditional except for the missing deity figures. Bobbi had statues of the Lord and Lady. Abilene had given them to her at their first lesson. Fain chose to leave them out of his casting preparations. That spoke to ominous intentions.

  Bobbi stripped off her blouse and pants. She slid the bra from her shoulders and shimmied out of panties. She was stunning, long limbed, with skin somewhere between pink and gold. Her blond hair hung loose and the wind teased it against her breasts. Quinn wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

  This is so wrong.

  He was invading her privacy. For what? Because Gavin thought she was acting strange?

  Bobbi hugged herself in the cool air. Fain ignored her as he placed the last touches to the altar.

  Quinn shifted on his uncomfortable perch, painfully aware of his growing desire.

  “What are we casting tonight?” Bobbi settled on the ground in front of the altar.

  “This is a prosperity spell,�
� Fain said. “It was originally used by farmers who wanted to multiply their sheep. I thought it was suitable.”

  “Cute. Go forth and multiply thy wool,” Bobbi said.

  “Something like that. Now center yourself. If nothing else, this spell will give you quite a boost of energy.”

  Bobbi closed her eyes. The hot wind tossed her hair and puckered her skin.

  From his pocket, Fain took a small red statue and placed it on the altar. Quinn drew aether from his necklace and sharpened his vision enough to make out details. The round statue stood no more than three inches tall, with blackened features. Horns protruded from its forehead. That was no deity figure. Quinn’s suspicions flared. He let the vision spell drop and hung onto the tree as fatigue overtook him. He clutched the cockroach again, hoping it held enough juice to keep his obfuscation spell going.

  Below, Fain walked around Bobbi, lecturing like a professor. Quinn fumbled for his phone and hit record on the video app.

  “Let your aether wash over you. Let it guide you to prosperity,” Fain said, then switched to a chant in a language Quinn didn’t recognize. The words were guttural and stark. Primitive.

  Quinn knew several varieties of prosperity spells. They spun positive thinking into a weapon that could strike at your enemies in subtle ways. In truth, most were nothing more than ego boosters that left the caster with immense self-confidence to win a new job, wow a new client or play the stock market.

  Fain’s spell was different. Quinn’s unease deepened.

  “Open your eyes. Look into me. Trust me,” Fain said. Her gaze locked on his. He continued to chant. Quinn felt the telltale burst of soother magic. Anchoring aether to a word like “trust” was a classic soother trick, one he’d used himself in many negotiations.

  He’s soothing her!

  Bobbi’s aether spread from her in a brilliant blue swath, but Fain’s chanting didn’t direct it. He contained it. Bobbi’s stern concentration melted to a dopey grin. Fain wrapped her in his magic, cocooning her with the chant. Did she even hear the dark, eerie incantation slipping from his tongue?

  Bobbi’s eyes glassed over.

  “There, now. Don’t you feel better? Powerful?” Fain tucked the red statue back into his pocket.

  “Yes. Powerful.” Bobbi swayed. Fain gripped her bare shoulders.

  “Next time, we’ll try something truly spectacular.” He patted her arm. “Won’t that be nice?”

  “Nice.”

  Fain helped her to her feet and led her back inside. They left the candles burning.

  Quinn’s aether howled like an injured wolf.

  4

  Altercation

  QUINN’S HEADLIGHTS CUT THE NIGHT.

  Taunton Road wound through the hills north of Ashlet. He drove it often and knew every bend and bump even in the dark. He stopped fifty feet past a steep curve, made a three-point turn and parked his car across the road, blocking the oncoming lane.

  It was a risk. Someone other than William Fain could come by and they might not have time to stop.

  Quinn didn’t care. Rage boiled in him like lava ready to overflow.

  Sitting in his car, he watched the video of Fain soothing Bobbi twice before headlights lit the night. He got out and stood in the road. The approaching car slowed as it rounded the bend. An old Dodge Charger, flame red, stopped in front of him. Big surprise. Fain was a Dukes of Hazzard geek.

  He leaned out the window.

  “Something wrong? Hit a deer?”

  “Get out.”

  “What? Who are you?”

  “Get out of the car.” Quinn’s patience ran dry. He would gladly reach through the window and haul Fain out by the throat.

  Fain opened the door and got out. He stood as tall as Quinn, but with a chunky soft build, like someone who spent too much time behind a computer. He smiled faintly, as if the world amused him.

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Look, I think there’s some mistake.”

  “Bobbi. What did you do to her?”

  Fain’s eyes narrowed. The smile twisted to a sneer.

  “You’re him aren’t you. Quinn something-or-other. Bobbi told me about you. Did she tell you about me?”

  Quinn let silence answer.

  “No, I can see she didn’t.”

  “You soothed her. Is that how you plan to get her into bed?”

  “Oh, I have big plans for Bobbi. Fucking her is only the start.”

  Quinn stepped into Fain’s space.

  “Is that how you get women? Pathetic.”

  Fain’s smile slipped. Quinn could soothe too. He willed his aether to poison Fain’s temper.

  “Bobbi wouldn’t touch you otherwise. Look at you. Fat, plain and dull.”

  Fain’s face crumpled in rage.

  Come on. Do it. Throw the first punch.

  He leaned in. Their eyes locked.

  “The only chance you have with her is drugged or spelled.”

  Fain shoved him.

  Quinn grinned. “Was that supposed to hurt?”

  Fain swung a punch. It glanced off Quinn’s shoulder.

  Quinn’s fist landed squarely on Fain’s mouth, splitting his lip with a spray of blood. Fain slammed against his car, but he wasn’t down for long. Blinded by blood and mad with fear, he came up swinging.

  The kid was tougher than he’d given him credit for. Or at least persistent. Quinn leaned sideways to avoid a clumsy hit, then grabbed Fain by the throat, pressing him against his car door. Quinn struck him in the mouth again, then held him there, ducking quickly to press a thin disk to the underside of the car, while Fain choked on his own blood.

  Fain babbled like a hysterical child, tilting his head back to deflect another strike, but Quinn was done with the fight. He’d made his statement. He grabbed Fain’s chin, wrapping a hand around the blood-smeared jaw, and dragged Fain’s gaze down to meet his.

  “Bobbi is not yours to play with. You hurt her and I will kill you. Does that sound like an empty threat?”

  Fain tried to shake his head but Quinn held him in a vice grip.

  “Good.” He let go and shoved Fain one more time because it felt good.

  Fain fell into his car. The wheels spun as he veered around Quinn and sped off down the country road.

  Quinn watched until the tail lights disappeared, then sat in his dark car for a long time.

  Soothing was dangerous magic. A soother could affect another person’s emotions for good or bad. But magic wasn’t a precise weapon and the soother could be as easily affected as the target.

  He slammed his fists against the steering wheel.

  How much of his rage was from magic and how much was from seeing Bobbi manipulated by that creep? Did it matter?

  He breathed deep until the anger faded.

  He’d learned a lot tonight. Bobbi’s new romance wasn’t real. William Fain had a hold over her. Quinn cursed himself for not teaching Bobbi to recognize soother magic sooner. But with the upset at the coven, he’d barely had time to teach her anything. Then, two weeks ago, Siranda had rambled on about Koro, something about being in a club in Miami, and Quinn flew out to check. It was a dead end and a waste of time—time Fain used to hook Bobbi with his magic.

  Fain’s aether was weak though. Any well-trained witch would have sensed Quinn’s soother attack and taken measures to block it. Fain hadn’t even tried.

  So where did he find the power to ensorcel Bobbi? He thought back to the ritual, the dark chant and the odd deity figure. Someone was pulling Fain’s strings. And he had a good idea who.

  Before starting the car, he checked his phone. The signal for the tracker he’d planted on Fain’s car flashed reassuringly. His Dukes-of-Hazzard-mobile moved fast, and not toward Bobbi’s house.

  His hands shook from the sudden release of adrenaline. Blood dried on his knuckles. He wiped it with a handkerchief and winced. His joints were bruised, but the blood was Fain’s. Studying the dark stain, he wished his sensate abilities were strong
er. Power stirred in that blood, but he couldn’t tell what kind. Carefully, he folded the handkerchief and sealed it in a plastic bag.

  Abilene could tell a lot from a drop of blood. If Koro controlled Fain, she would know it.

  5

  Confrontation

  I HAD NEVER BEEN SO FURIOUS.

  Quinn thought he could butt into my business through some sense of what? Misplaced chivalry? Did he think I was so naive, so weak I couldn’t take care of myself?

  “How dare he?” I pounded the keys on the cash register and it spit out an end-of-day receipt.

  William had just left, after telling the horrific tale of his encounter with Quinn last night.

  “Are you certain he’s telling the truth?” Molly’s tone was infuriatingly reasonable.

  “Why would he lie?” Poor William. His lip had been swollen in a pout. It would have been adorable if the reason behind it wasn’t so dark. What the hell was Quinn thinking?

  “Maybe you should speak to Quinn, get his side of the story before you jump to conclusions,” Molly said.

  “Oh, I jumped already. Believe me. I’m at the sentencing stage.”

  Molly shook her head and turned away.

  I pulled out my phone and texted: We need to talk. NOW.

  Quinn only went outside the ward a couple of times a day to check his messages. I’d have to wait for his call.

  I closed the cash register as the ladies knitting club arrived for an evening class. Molly ran these twice a week. Usually, I tried to duck out before they arrived.

  “There she is!” Mrs. Davereau hustled through the door with her oversized knitting bag. The rest of the knitting brigade filed in behind her. “I hear you have a new special someone.” Mrs. Davereau gripped my hand across the counter.

  “Yes, I do.” If she pinched my cheek I was bolting.