by Lisa Plumley
Lily quaffed her drink, too. “You’re not ready for it yet,” she announced as she snapped her fingers for more. “You probably never will be, despite your little bursts of magic in class.”
Wounded, Dayna stared at them. Could Francesca possibly be telling the truth? She glanced at Camille. Her friend shrugged and went back to her strawberries, unconcerned.
Maybe things like this happened all the time in Covenhaven.
“Seriously?” Dayna shifted her gaze to Francesca. “You’ve made a potion that makes cusping witches invincible? And you’re offering it to witches over mani-pedis and backne treatments?”
“Only to a few select witches.” Giving her a contemplative look, Francesca made a graceful gesture. The wall behind her turned transparent. Through it, witchy spa guests were visible, all of them enjoying the specially garnished drink. “For now.”
At her wave, the wall became opaque again.
Like magic, Dayna needed that drink. She didn’t care about being invincible; she wasn’t even sure she believed in that part. Francesca probably wouldn’t hesitate to stretch the truth if it enhanced her own reputation. But all at once, that drink became another link in the chain of becoming a true witch.
“How do you get selected?” she asked in a shaky voice.
She expected to hear another motherly rebuke from Camille. Instead, her friend sat as transfixed as she was, listening avidly to the discussion, barely noticing the diligent spa attendant who was applying petal pink polish to her toenails.
Francesca and Lily traded glances. Then Francesca turned to Dayna. She held up her drink. Solemnly, she said, “This potion could be dangerous in the wrong hands. I might already have trusted you too much. For all I know, you’re a myrmidon.”
“Me? A Follower?” Dayna blurted out. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
Dayna examined Francesca. Mutely, she shook her head.
“I hear the IAB has bugs everywhere now. I wouldn’t want to get in trouble—or be tagged as a potential Follower myself.” Idly, Francesca studied her pedicure-in-progress. She dismissed her attendant. “The bureau is watching, you know. They’re concerned about the rise of The Old Ways here in Covenhaven.”
“I noticed—there’s a definite revival of The Old Ways going on. But it doesn’t include me,” Dayna said. “I lived among humans for more than ten years! There’s no way a Follower would hide out for that long, concealing their witchy gifts.”
“That’s probably true.” Francesca lifted her gaze. “On the other hand, your ‘gifts’ are…” She broke off, smiling. “Let’s just say, your grasp of magic hasn’t always been the strongest.”
Beside her, Lily snickered into her cocktail. “So you wouldn’t have sacrificed much to hide it all those years.”
“My magic is improving all the time.” Dayna cast a covetous glance at that specially garnished drink. It looked delicious. “I’m a witch, first and last. I’m even bonded,” she added with a burst of inspiration. “To a compound.”
“A compound? Really?” At that, Francesca perked up. She gave Dayna a look of shimmering approval, filled with enviable charm and spirit. “Then you’re definitely not a Follower.”
“I’m not either!” Camille said, eager to join in.
Francesca smiled more widely. So did Lily.
“Well then,” Francesca said as she lifted her glass for a toast. “Welcome to the club, witches. This is going to be fun.”
Waiting in the resort’s greenhouse, located at the very back of the Janus grounds, T.J. aimed a speculative glance at a potted orchid. All around him in the damp, warm space, water dripped from hidden irrigation systems. Condensation beaded on the greenhouse’s walls, splintering the sunshine that fought its way through the glass. The air smelled richly of earth and moss.
With a gentle burst of concentration, he watched the orchid. Beneath his gaze, it spread its petals. The flower bent and reached toward him, its stem arched gracefully. That was more like it: working magic. Pleased, he stroked a petal.
Behind him, a door banged shut. Footsteps echoed.
The orchid shrank and shriveled, hunching toward the soil.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Sumner said.
Already cloaked in his usual farmers’ market disguise, T.J. turned. He stepped from the shadows he’d pulled. “I wouldn’t be here if you had. I know what you need. I need it, too.”
With an angry chuckle, Sumner approached him. She still looked vivacious, still moved with a sexy swagger, but now there was something new in her demeanor. Anger swept from her to T.J., tinged with an emotion he recognized well…but didn’t want to.
Betrayal. It pained him to absorb any of it from her.
“Save the sweet talk, Neal,” she said. “I don’t care about your mission. I don’t care about the Patayan. I don’t even care about the Samhain Festival and graduating from cusping-witch school. All I care about is making an alliance I can trust.”
“You can trust me.”
Sumner’s gaze narrowed. Her hips swiveled as she came closer, eyeing him with evident suspicion. She stopped beside the withered orchid and frowned. “I detect deception from you.”
“You have reason to,” T.J. said. “Do we have a deal?”
Another bitter laugh. “With a compound who admits he’s lying to me? What do I look like, some kind of idiot?”
“You show me your faith. I’ll show you mine.”
She crossed her arms. “Why should I have to go first?”
“Because I never do.” With a rough movement designed to tamp down his eagerness, T.J. stepped closer. He eyed Sumner’s rigid posture. “Also because you want to do this. You need to.”
Acquiescence flowed from her to him. As though hoping to deny it, Sumner closed her eyes. Her face tautened with emotion.
“My best friend betrayed me. She’s trying to replace me! Do you know what that feels like?”
T.J. nodded. “I do.”
His avowal was truer than Sumner knew. Even now, he took in much of her pain and disillusionment…her envy and anger.
“Join us,” T.J. urged. “I don’t care if you do it to help the Patayan or to exact revenge. The results are the same.”
“And I’ll make witchstory, like you said?” Sumner asked with raw need. “Everyone will remember my name? Everyone?”
“If you’re the juweel, no one will be able to forget you.”
“Then sign me up, Neal.” Wearing a grim smile, Sumner offered him her handshake. “I’m ready to do whatever you want.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The moment Margo Sterling opened the door of Dayna’s childhood home—a two-bedroom bungalow in the heart of Covenhaven’s historical district—her face fell.
“Oh, Dayna. It’s you.”
“Surprise!” Wrapped in the scarf Camille had lent her in deference to the chilly weather, Dayna spread her arms wide. She waved her newly manicured fingers. Even after two additional days of classes, they still looked good. “Can I come in?”
“Of—of course.” With a baffled frown, Margo opened the door. “We weren’t expecting you. We were just about to—”
“Dayna! It’s about time you visited us again, young lady.” From behind her mother, Sam Sterling blustered his way forward. In a haze of aftershave and magical liveliness—plus a soft wooly sweater and jeans—he embraced her. Beaming, he held her by the shoulders to examine her. “Come in! Sit down! Stay awhile!”
Relieved that at least one parent seemed pleased to see her, Dayna stepped into the cozy living room. Her mother’s traditional decorating taste was on full display, with knit throws over the plump sofa, generous armchairs, a fire in the fireplace, cushy rugs, low-lit lamps, and a burning wand of incense to offset the faint sulfurous scent in the air.
Dayna sniffed. “Conjuring up something, Mom?”
“Samhain decorations. I’m running late this year.” Her mother cast an uncertain glan
ce at her father, then perched herself beside him on the sofa. Her hands folded. Then unfolded. Then folded in her lap again. She smiled. “Didn’t you notice the autumn wreath and jack-o’-lanterns on the front porch?”
“Sorry.” Slinging her backpack to the floor, Dayna rummaged around in it. She pulled out two embossed envelopes. “I was a little distracted by these—your invitations to the cusping-witch graduation ceremony at Janus! On Hallowe’en. Remember?”
The big event was almost here. Bright-eyed, Dayna held out the invitations. Her parents eyed them as though they might explode in her hands. They exchanged uneasy glances.
“They’re magically imprinted.” Dayna waggled the envelopes, putting on her most chichi expression. “You’ll need them to get into the ceremony. It’s exclusive. They had to limit invitations because of the at-capacity crowd—you wouldn’t believe how many tourists are in town this week, in anticipation of the Hallowe’en Festival. Thousands, Francesca told me. So…here!”
Sam and Margo didn’t budge. Hurt, Dayna stared at them.
“Don’t you want them?” she asked. “You said you would come to see me graduate. Everyone in town will be there.”
“Are you sure you’re going to pass the class?” her mother blurted out. “Remember, you can tell us if you’re failing, Dayna. We’ll still love you. No matter what, we’ll always—”
Feeling crushed, Dayna let the envelopes sag.
“We heard from Camille that you were doing well in class,” her father rushed to assure her. His voice was gentle. “But when you didn’t come by to visit more often, we just assumed—”
“That I was failing?” Feeling tears burn at her eyelids, Dayna tossed the envelopes on the coffee table. They skidded to a stop halfway across its polished surface, undoubtedly halted by a counterspell. She stood. “Well, this time you’re wrong, Dad. I’m not failing. I’m doing pretty great, actually.” Her voice cracked. Doggedly, Dayna kept going. “My magic is coming along well, I’m having fun hanging out with Camille again, and I’m making friends with all the cool witches in my class.”
“Cool witches? Like who?” her mother asked sharply.
“Francesca Woodberry. Lily Abbot. Sumner Jacobs.”
“We always liked Camille,” her father said wistfully.
“Well, I have new friends now, Dad. They like me.”
Falling silent, her mother stared at the abandoned invitations with palpable dread. It must have been Margo’s spell that had stopped them from sliding all the way across the table.
The realization felt more hurtful than Dayna would have expected. She was a grown witch. Did she still care that much what her parents thought of her? What they thought of her magic?
Yes, she realized as Sam and Margo made no move to claim the two invitations she’d brought. She did care. A lot.
“Everything is going so well, in fact,” Dayna went on, “that I’ve been thinking of staying here in Covenhaven. For good.” She felt a familiar weight creep toward her shoulder. Without much thought, she reached for the comfort of her kitten familiar. It must have sensed her upset feelings and emerged from its habitual position inside her hoodie. “So if that’s going to be a problem for you, I guess we’d better—”
“What’s that?” Her father went still. “In your arms?”
Her mother gawked, her face ashen. For an instant, Dayna was afraid her familiar was morphing into a tiger again. But then she realized the truth. Her parents were obviously astonished that she’d achieved such (relatively) advanced magic.
“It’s my familiar,” she announced proudly, nuzzling the creature to her cheek. “She’s almost two weeks old now.”
“You’ve never managed a familiar before,” Margo said.
“At least not one that stuck around this long,” Sam added.
“I know, Dad. That’s what I mean. I’m getting good at—”
“This is all because of that warlock, isn’t it?” her mother demanded, looking wild-eyed. “The one you’re bonded with.”
Her accusation came at Dayna with surprising vehemence.
“Now, Margo.” Her father patted her knee. “Take it easy.”
She rounded on him. “You take it easy! I told you this would happen. This is ruining everything.” Gulping back a sob, Margo shook her head. “I knew I should have intervened.”
“It’s a little late for that now,” Sam said.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Her mother gave Dayna a distressed look. “I did some research after we met in the library. I know what happened to you, Dayna. I know you’re bonded. I know it’s forever. I know it’s increasing your magic, too. I don’t know why you didn’t share that with me, but—”
Margo’s aggrieved tone was more than Dayna could stand.
“Um, maybe I didn’t share my bonding with you because I thought you might have this reaction?” Taken aback by her parents’ bizarre behavior, Dayna cradled her kitten familiar with one hand. With the other, she picked up her backpack. “Look, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy I was back in town. To be proud of me, for once.” With stinging eyes, she stared at them. “I guess that’s never going to happen, is it?” She sucked in a quivering breath. “I might as well give up.”
In the stillness, the fire crackled. The incense sent up a curling tendril of smoke. The clock in the corner ticked away.
Blinking back tears, Dayna waited for her parents to tell her she was wrong. Wrong about them, wrong about their lack of faith in her, wrong about their willingness to believe she was a permanent magical screwup instead of a trueborn witch.
Her father broke the silence first. In a blatantly hopeful tone, he asked, “Is there any chance you will give up and go back to Phoenix before graduation day?”
Stunned, Dayna stared at him. Her kitten familiar shivered in her arms, probably sensing her injured feelings.
Dayna lifted her chin. “No, Dad. It turns out, this time, I’m not giving up. At least not on my cusping-witch classes.” She hefted her backpack higher, then tucked her kitten familiar securely in her hoodie. After a few seconds, it was settled in. “I’ve worked a long time for this. I’ve tried really hard. So…No. I’m not giving up.” She gazed at her mother. “I’m sorry to disappoint you—again. I’ve got to go.”
Blinded by emotions that felt almost as uncontrollable as her magic had been, Dayna turned. She charged past the end table, sighted the front door, and headed straight toward it.
“Dayna, wait.” Her mother’s voice came from behind her.
Hauling in a breath, Dayna stopped. She turned. A crackle of magical energy sparked from her feet. With a practiced gesture, she extinguished it. Her father’s eyes widened.
Margo caught his reaction, too. She inhaled. “Sam, no—”
“Yes, Margo. It’s time.” Her father looked at her. “Dayna, sit down. We have something important to tell you.”
Silhouetted on the mounded roof of her earth ship home, T.J.’s magus gazed toward the isolated lights of Covenhaven. The autumn breeze lifted her flowing witchmade garments, making it appear that she was about to take flight. On the ground below her, beside a sentinel saguaro, her wolfhound whined in concern.
“I was hoping you would come,” she said without turning.
“I’m here.” With what he hoped was a reassuring smile, T.J. stepped toward her. He navigated the dips and turns of the hard-packed earthen dwelling with easy Patayan movements, then embraced her. “But no cookies this time? What’s up with that?”
Distractedly, his magus pulled away. “There is too much to be done. I can’t waste time with hobbies.” She drew a prism in the quiet night air, then pulled over a shaft of moonlight. With urgent eyes, she directed him to peer through it. “Look how many are gathering there. I’ve never seen so many humans in town.”
Her earth magic had formed a viewing port. T.J. looked through it and discovered it functioned as a telescoping lens.
“So this is how you knew what I was up to as a teenager.”
His magus didn’t smile. “Do you see them? And the witches?”
“I see witches. Humans. Warlocks and Patayan.” T.J. blinked and refocused his gaze. “Covenhaven has drawn them together for years. The enchanted red rocks, the canyon—”
“It’s more than that this time. I sense more.” With an apprehensive gesture, his magus made the prism vanish. “The conflict we’ve feared is coming closer. The dark forces are stronger. They’re preparing for…something. I can’t see what. By the time I can, it may be too late. We need the vixen.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’ve found her.”
“You found the juweel?”
“She’s agreed to help us.” T.J. touched his magus, soaking up as much of her worry as he could. “I had to reveal myself to her. But she’ll do whatever I ask.”
His magus paced. “I don’t know what to ask of her.”
“You will when the time comes. You’ve prophesied it.”
“You put too much faith in me, T.J.” His magus’s dark gaze met his. “You always have. I’m only one being.”
“You’re the one being I would give anything to protect.”
His words, even harshly spoken, made her smile. “That’s not true. There’s another you would guard even more fiercely than me.” She caught his protest, even before he made it. “Don’t bother to deny it. I see it in you. Your birthright mark is mature. Your aura is at peace. Your bond is complete.”
Beside her, T.J. stiffened. He didn’t want to be open; not even to her. He didn’t want to be readable, didn’t want to be breakable. If his magus was right, it was too late not to be.
It was only fair, he realized. In his lessons with Dayna, he’d taught his bonded witch to let go of the defensive barrier she held between herself and everyone else. With words and magic and—on one memorable occasion, a shuddering sexual union—he’d coaxed Dayna into the bravery she needed to be truly open.
Her reward had been the ability—fleeting then, but growing stronger by the day—to see her own aura and to recognize magical pixilation. It had felt like a breakthrough…and it had been.
For both of them.
