Everwish: The Primati Witches Book One

by Amelia Oz

  Minutes later I was on the street, striding in barely human steps. My expression must have held a warning as mortals leaped from my path. Having a temper that was rare but legendary was the result of the demon I kept at bay within my blood. My dual bloodline was a blessing and a scourge. The vampire-demon dampened much of the empathy that had caused me so much suffering and conflict as a human. In turn, he needed an outlet for his rage and blood thirst. I'd spent an entire week as a good boy, if I didn't count the witch in the map shop. The beast in me wanted to rise.

  I found a quiet alley and called to Grayson. He materialized within seconds, a glass beer bottle in hand. I looked pointedly at the bottle.

  "Forgive me, Sir. You have unexpected guests and they wanted to try the local IPA."

  "I don't have guests, Grayson."

  Grayson remained silent, already sensing my mood and knowing it best not to challenge me. I sighed. "Who?"

  "Noble King Murad and a few others."

  I punched the brick wall, dust and mortar flying. It felt good so I did it a few more times. A nearby metal door creaked open, and a man with an apron gave us a startled inspection before closing the door with a hasty thud. The scrape of a latch followed. My chin sank to my chest as my palms met bent knees. Could I not catch a fucking break?

  I straightened. "What does my brother want?"

  Grayson cleared his throat and avoided eye contact.

  "He says that you’re not answering your phone and he was concerned."

  This was accurate. I'd been avoiding giving my brother an update, hoping to buy time.

  "He cannot use your bond to communicate when your aura is locked," Grayson pointed out unnecessarily. This was true. It had been nice being the only one in my head for a few days.

  "Sir—he let Demir out."

  I stopped breathing. "What did you say?"

  Grayson stared at me. "He said he let her go because he needs the Covens to convene a full Council, and they cannot meet as a Council with the Earth Queen buried in bedrock."

  "It's only been five years." Daria Demir had been sentenced to fifty years for ordering the murder of a young child in retaliation for a debt the child’s father owed.

  "Yes. But you were not available to counsel him on his decision. He also thinks with Samhain coming up in two months that Stella will need help preparing for the ball and the wedding. He heard Stella may have power and wants her to have guidance."

  How had he heard she had power? I shook my head. With Daria loose, it was wise that I would be distancing myself from Stella immediately. Her jealousy was lethal.

  "Who else is with the King?"

  "Only Queen Theresa and the guards attending them, Sir. I located a suite with atrium view at the Nines hotel for his Noble Highness. Queen Theresa will be taking an empty house during her stay. I thought you might prefer the privacy."

  A loyal friend, Tess was never far from my brother.

  "Thank you, Grayson."

  "Anytime, Sir."

  I checked the time, frowning when I saw I'd been gone for nearly thirty minutes. Stella will think I abandoned her again. She was relatively safe in the bookstore in daytime. Safer than by my side when I was not in full control. I shook my head and retrieved my cell, pressing Murad's name in my missed calls queue.

  While I waited for my brother to pick up, Grayson held out a pair of Wayfarer sunglasses. I glanced at the gray sky and frowned.

  "Your eyes, Sir. The bond on your aura is fracturing."

  Chapter 15

  Temperance

  Stella

  laric had walked away from me. Again. He'd practically shoved The Little Prince in my face before he'd ditched me. A woman in a sundress I'd seen make eyes at him earlier stepped in front of him, a question on her lips. He maneuvered around her so fast her audible gasp carried back to me. I wished I could read his mind. Sighing, I put the book back and continued my mission. A store employee pointed me towards the magic, witchcraft, and paganism section. I wandered through aisles, keeping a look out for the vanishing Alaric. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I pulled my phone out and sent him a text, letting him know which section I would be in.

  Our kiss in the theatre replayed in a loop in my mind, and the memory had me flushing. The feel of his hands on me were a revelation. I'd always judged girls who fell fast, yet here I was—on fire for a man I'd barely known for forty-eight hours. I'd thought I was in love with Scott, yet I'd easily kept him at arm's length. With Alaric, it was as if he were a magnet for every cell in my body. Perhaps impending death was changing me. There were enough closed doors in my present and possibly my future. Even if the enchantment Thomas referred to could be broken, today with Alaric will be one of my best memories. I couldn't imagine anything better.

  Stop! I had to force back these feelings because they had nowhere to grow. Obsessing over a beautiful stranger was a distraction I couldn’t afford with this curse to figure out. I finally found the right shelves and stared in awe at the assortment of occult books. Who on earth read, let alone wrote all of these books? I scanned the stacks, looking for anything helpful on how curses worked.

  After several minutes spent trying to identify topics, I shook my head, overwhelmed by the selection. There was even a Wiccapedia for Dummies. I found a shelf of herbal cookbooks and alchemy notebooks, even recognizing some I'd seen in Marion's store. A few gave off a creepy vibe and I deliberately kept my distance from those. On the last shelf I discovered a thin book on druids and placed it in my tote, along with a copy of Practical Elemental Magick.

  Rounding a corner, I ran into a bookcase with locked glass doors. Its wood shelves held crowded displays of tarot card decks of different styles and sizes. Some were used and claimed to be collectors' items. With a start, I noticed a Polaroid picture of a Tarot deck that resembled one of mine. My breath fogged the glass as I squinted to read the handwritten scrawl on its accompanying index card.

  The deck was called the Scion Deck and interested customers were instructed to speak with the helpdesk for more information. I stared at the image. It looked very much like an Empress card from a Major Arcana deck I'd painted two years ago. I recalled using a great deal of green in that set.

  "They can take them out for you if you want to look at them," said a girl my age. She had ebony hair, skin so pale it was translucent and wore a long dress with fingerless gloves.

  "Thanks. I think I'll ask about this one," I said, tapping the glass in front of the Polaroid. The girl peered over my shoulder.

  "Oh. You must be rich. The Scion decks are the most expensive in the world. I doubt they really have a set here. They're too rare. I hear it's because any reading given with that deck will actually come true."

  "Really?" I murmured. I squinted but the photo still resembled my work.

  "Umm hmm. There are about six sets worldwide, and all of them hand-painted by this mysterious master they call the Scion."

  "The Scion?"

  The girl shrugged, her eyes bright as they held mine. "Some guy. He only signs with a star symbol but they call him the Scion." My skin flashed cold.

  What were the odds of another person using a star as signature? "The artist is a man?"

  She shrugged again. "That's what I heard."

  "You seem very knowledgeable."

  She offered a shy smile. "I pay attention. Plus, I do tarot readings so I know about different decks." I took out my phone and snapped a quick picture of the Polaroid to share with Marion later. Maybe the girl could help me. "I'm looking for a book on curses. Maybe you could recommend one?”

  The girl beamed and immediately meandered towards a section in the middle of the aisle. A man hunkered upon a stepping stool nearby, a pile of books at his side and a large volume in his lap. She sidestepped around him when he didn’t budge or look up. Losing oneself in a great book is the sweetest experience and one I couldn’t begrudge anyone.

  "The thing is, most books on magic will have s
ome information on curses. Light Wiccans won't go there because whatever you put out in the universe returns thrice fold. There may be books on how to break curses..." She flipped through titles as I surveyed the books nearby.

  The man at our feet stood. He was of medium build but seemed more muscular once upright. He offered a slight smile. "Sorry. I couldn't help overhear your conversation. Might I recommend something?"

  He was good looking, with dark eyes, tanned skin and thick brown hair. He reminded me of a model in the back of one of Amanda's fashion magazines. Attractive if you liked pretty men. I preferred Alaric's rougher exterior. The girl eyed me questioningly.

  I shrugged, nudging the spine of a book until it aligned with its sisters on the shelf.

  "Sure."

  He smiled with warmth and I couldn't help but return it. It was a nice smile.

  The girl stepped between us, placing a hand on his shoulder as if to maneuver around him. Before I could move back, she placed a hand on my forearm. The man touched my other arm.

  I pulled away, but the girl whispered something, and the bookstore vanished.

  When I opened my eyes, it was to see an elaborate four-poster bed with mustard-colored bed hangings. Panicked, I sat up and immediately the room spun. I rubbed my temples, trying to shake off the unpleasant sensation.

  "Gently," a soft voice murmured. "Give yourself time to acclimate. Air transferring at this distance might make you feel a little woozy."

  I followed the voice to where two figures sat in matching chairs before floor to ceiling windows. Heavy silk drapes were pulled back to reveal darkness and I saw the room’s reflection cast there—how long had I been out?

  "She’s strong. As a human her recovery should take longer, don't you think?" asked the man from the bookstore. His voice was smooth and pleasant. A voice made for stories around campfires. The girl with ebony hair responded, her eyes watchful.

  "That is because our Stella is not entirely human. Haven't you felt that yet?"

  He cocked his head, studying me. "I think Stella is curious as to why we are talking about her while she sits here wondering what is going on. Apologies, Stella."

  They know my name. I tried to stand but only got as far as sitting on the side of the bed, legs dangling. I was glad to see they hadn't moved any closer. In fact, they sat still as statues, watching me with similar expressions of concern.

  I tried to think. The girl said "transfer," which was how Thomas had explained moving from one place to another through trees. Were they also druids? This transferring business had been different than with Thomas. I couldn’t remember the experience for one thing. I shook my head, angry and disoriented.

  "Who are you? Where am I, and what just happened?" I flexed my fingers atop the silk coverlet and tried to look tough versus like Little Miss Muffet. It was hard. Although I was sitting on the side of the bed, my toes were nowhere near the floor. I gauged the distance I'd have to run from the floor to the open door I'd spotted over my right shoulder.

  The man leaned forward, placing his elbows on top of his knees. He wore a navy shirt and dark pants and seemed at a loss for words. He glanced at the girl. She nodded and untucked her legs, swinging them forward to face me.

  "Stella, my name is Tess. We’re at my home in Scotland. This man—" She motioned to the man, "—is a good friend of mine. His name is...Murry and we brought you here to explain some things. After we talk, we’ll take you back exactly where we found you and almost no time will have passed." Murry gave Tess an odd look.

  I waited, expressionless. Thomas had made me promise not to reveal our discussions and Scotland sounded super farfetched.

  "In the interest of earning your trust, I want to reveal my true self to you. Don't worry, I won't turn into a lizard." She half laughed and I realized she was uneasy. It went a long way towards humanizing her, and I had a weird feeling we could be friends under different circumstances.

  "If your true self,” I said, using air quotes, “involves mind control, snakes or mice, I am hella outta here," I warned, my hands closing into fists.

  "What a strange imagination you have. I promise, no one will influence your mind with magick." She smiled and raised her hands in front of her face. This day could not get stranger.

  She remained silent and I stared, uncertain of what was supposed to happen. Her hands changed. Not a lot but then the veins became more prominent and a few freckles appeared. She slowly opened her hands to reveal her face. She’d aged perhaps fifteen years and was stunning. Thick black hair fell straight behind her thin shoulders. She was a little taller, her skin so pale she could have been an albino were it not for her sooty lashes and large eyes. They were the blue of a hot summer day and an endless expanse of pure, cloudless sky.

  "I know this is difficult to understand. I hope by demonstrating real magick, it might be easier for you to accept as truth."

  "T-t-truth?" My nerves betrayed me. If this was a trick, it was a really good one.

  "Truth that magick exists. Murry thought you might have an easier time of it if you saw it for yourself. Also, that you might be more comfortable meeting him with another female present," she said, gesturing to him. I shook my head, but the room remained exactly the same.

  I have very thoughtful, sexist but honest kidnappers. I should buy a lottery ticket later, I was so, so lucky.

  "More comfortable for what exactly?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  Murry raised his palms and spoke gently. "I mean you no harm. Have no fear of that." He rose, watching me warily as he did so—as if I might freak out. I was tempted to act a little crazy just to mess with him, but it was too much work with my head starting to hurt.

  There was something very appealing about both of them, and I realized with a start it was because the man seemed familiar somehow. Trustworthy in a he-won't-chop-me-into-pieces-with-an-ax kind of way. My curiosity warred with anger at being taken without my permission and a desire to return to the bookstore.

  He walked to the foot of the bed and paced the area with hands in pockets.

  "Stella, we found you today because...uh...because there is a world beyond the human world that you don't know about yet. That's right. And unfortunately, you cannot remain in the dark any longer."

  I glanced at Tess and found she'd swung her legs over one arm of her chair, settling in as she watched Murry. A huge bowl of popcorn had appeared on her lap, and she placed a kernel daintily into her mouth. With a start, I found a similar bowl on the bed next to me. Wicked trick.

  "You are related to someone very dear to me. Beginning with this person, every female direct descendent in her line has been the victim of an enchantment. We happened to be visiting...and when you asked that book shop woman for information on magick and curses I thought you might already be aware of something." He stopped abruptly, resting a hand on a bed post to examine me with hopeful eyes. "Are you? Already aware of something?"

  I shrugged and raised the bowl of popcorn, giving it a sniff. My stomach growled with the warm scent of freshly popped popcorn with butter. I glanced at Tess and she winked. I scowled and placed the bowl on the bed. For all I knew it could be poisoned.

  "Oh. Alright then. Where was I? The enchantment. I only discovered it existed—and you—about eleven years ago.” Six. I would have been six.

  "I've had your family tree researched, and it’s quite remarkable. The one thing your ancestors have in common is marrying, carrying a child—always a girl—and then dying before the age of twenty-one. Their husbands always died with them or within the same hour. Twenty years, eight months was the oldest survival age we found. Many actually died around eighteen years..."

  Tess loudly cleared her throat, and Murry frowned. "Oh. Forgive my insensitivity, Stella."

  "It was also a different time for most of those years. People married very young," Tess added.

  The idea of a family tree intrigued me. How could I get my hands on that? I wanted to ask questions, b
ut Murry seemed on a roll, and I was curious how his version might differ from the one Thomas shared.

  "Your ancestor, Lila, was enchanted after her family was murdered.” He said her name as if naming a rare flower or a wondrous new species of butterflies. “I was nearby and heard the screams as she ran to them. We believe that the druids murdered her family and that the enchantment was woven by someone working with them. The druids are a secret sect of mystics, men and women, who believe themselves protectors of magickal knowledge. Creation magick. The problem is that magick users sometimes disappear with the scent of druids lingering where they were last seen.

  "My soldiers and I hunted and captured three of those druids in the woods that night, human blood on their clothing. Before they could be questioned about the murder of Lila's family, they committed suicide with poison. I think someone very powerful rewarded the druids for the murders. I’ve been rooting them out ever since."

  If I believed this man, Thomas should have been just another human. No hidden grove and without the power to transfer himself and two girls through a tree. Could Thomas be setting me up with lies? Had his family been behind the murder of Lila's family—and ultimately the curse itself? The theory would go a long way in explaining how his group had kept tabs on my family all these years. There was just one problem. I didn't believe Thomas or his mom were capable of murder.

  "Have you spoken with other, er…druids? Asked them?" I questioned.

  "They are not so easily found. I've discovered only four of their hidden groves, yet the towers they hide are always empty."

  "No records at all?" I asked.

  Murry's brows drew down. "That would be good of them, wouldn't it? Unfortunately, the druids never leave records behind. They share information through the telling of tales between generations. I know they're behind this. The druids worshiped your ancestor—my friend. They were not very happy when she became my friend and lived as a mortal. I've searched for years, looking for a solution to the enchantment. Some call it an Everwish. A desire so intense it is brought to life and endless. In my lifetime, I’ve only known it used once. There is a theory that only someone with my friend’s blood can make an Everwish.”