White Witch

by Trish Milburn

  “Cuz, I’m five-foot-three. Everyone is a giant to me.”

  Fork in hand, I fiddle with my mystery meat concoction, just about giving myself a brain hemorrhage with the effort to not stare at Keller, to not reach over and touch him. I have to find a way to dampen my attraction or risk making a complete fool out of myself, not to mention the risk of exposing my true identity.

  I’ve dreamed of dating normal boys in this new life of mine, but I can’t fall hard for one. Witches and mortals do not mix, not if the witch wants to keep her power. And as much as I wish I could truly be normal, I can’t let falling in love with a mortal drain my power. I can’t be left defenseless if my coven finds me and decides not only to punish the wayward daughter but wreak havoc on those around me as well.

  “Jax?”

  “Huh?” I look up to find I’ve totally missed something Toni has said to me.

  Toni grins, giving me the uncomfortable feeling that my new friend can read my thoughts.

  “I asked what classes you have for the rest of the day.”

  Without looking at Keller, I reach for the leather satchel at my feet and pull out my schedule. I slide it across the table toward Toni.

  “Oh, look, you’ve got P.E. with Keller fifth period.”

  I can’t help a glance at Keller, but find he has his head down concentrating on homework. But I sense the tenseness in his body. He’s heard, just didn’t acknowledge.

  Toni punches him in the upper arm. “Hey, Mr. Rude, I was talking to you.”

  “Hey.” Keller rubs his arm. “I’m trying to work here.”

  “At lunch?”

  “Your mom gave us a ten-page essay due by tomorrow.”

  “So do it tonight.”

  “I’m busy tonight,” he says, his jaw tight and some sort of extra force lacing his words.

  Whatever he conveys, Toni lets the topic drop and goes back to eating select pieces of her fruit cocktail.

  In a normal situation, I would assume he has a hot date tonight and be very jealous. But I know how he likely spends his evenings. Hunting.

  A chill sweeps down my body like an avalanche. Time for a new, non-supernatural topic.

  I eye Keller’s lengthening essay, then meet Toni’s gaze. “So, Mrs. Dawes is your mom?”

  “Yes, it’s a dream come true, having my mom with me virtually every waking moment.” Toni rolls her eyes.

  “She’s nice.”

  Toni grunts in response. There’s some sort of antagonism there, but I don’t know Toni well enough yet to ask what.

  “Hey, Keller. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Stacy’s voice crawls all over my skin like bugs. Miss Snooty Pants stands close to Keller’s side, Liv and the still-silent Brianna hovering close behind.

  “I’m busy right now, Stacy.”

  “Please.” She tries to close Keller’s textbook, but he places his forearm between the pages to stop her. “You can do this later.”

  Keller looks up at Stacy, exasperation written in bold strokes across his face, a fact Stacy is either too stupid to notice or deliberately ignoring. “What?”

  Stacy eyes Toni and me with barely concealed disdain. “Not here.” She nods toward an empty table in the corner.

  “Oh, please, let me speed this up before I gag,” Toni says. “Stacy, he’s not interested in going to homecoming with you, okay? Now run along and annoy someone else.” She gives Stacy a shooing motion with her hand.

  The queen bee huffs and looks like she might say something harsh, but thinks better of it, probably in hopes of getting what she wants. “Keller.”

  Stacy’s pouty little whine makes me want to shove her into the ionosphere. I instantly hate her. The blackness wells up from deep within me, scaring me half to death. I wrap my hands firmly around the edges of my lunch tray to keep from doing the same to Stacy’s neck. I have to get out of here, and now.

  Without a word to anyone, I stand and bolt for the door, tossing my tray into the trashcan as I pass. I use the last of my self-control to not exit the room at blinding speed.

  The hallways stretch out in different directions, and I pick the one that looks the longest. I hurry down its length and find my way into an empty classroom.

  Sweat pours down my temples, and my entire body shakes as if someone has touched me with an electric current. Slowly, very slowly, I calm that inner part of myself, the dark instinct that comes of being born into the Pherson Witch Coven. I force my breathing to normalize, the tension to ease from my bunched muscles, the dark thoughts to fade away, dissolving until they are no longer capable of hurting anyone.

  I slide down the wall and lower my head into my shaky hands. I knew leaving behind all I’ve ever been would have its hard days, but did it have to be today? Must my struggle happen in front of the one guy who’s ever made my entire being hum with awareness and want? And, oh yeah, he’s a frickin’ hunter!

  I must learn to control my emotions and powers better, something I’ve rarely been forced to do. And unless I want to leave my new home, I have to rid myself of this dangerous attraction to the absolute worst guy in the world for me.

  Why do I have the feeling harnessing black magic will be the easier of the two?

  Chapter Three

  I very nearly cut school, but the thought of starting over yet again is too overwhelming. I’ll make this work, even if I do have to walk the same halls as a hunter and Paris Hilton wannabes.

  After changing into track pants and a tee, I wait in the shadows beside the bleachers until I hear the P.E. class head outside. Only then do I slip into the gym and toward the back of the group. Which just happens to be where Keller is. He catches sight of me and falters for a moment before turning his attention back to his progress. Awareness arcs between us like fingers of lightning. He has to feel it, too. That kind of power can’t just be one way. Right?

  The thought nearly stops me. Despite my previous dismissal of the idea, could he be more than a hunter? Have I been wrong in what I’ve always believed about how bloodstones work? Could Keller have some sort of supernatural power, too? My heart skips a beat, almost hoping he isn’t completely human. But that’s crazy. As a rule, supernatural hunters aren’t themselves supernatural.

  As soon as I fall into step behind Keller, I feel something bubble inside him, a question. When we walk out into the bright sunshine, it showcases the golden streaks in his hair.

  Without stopping, he turns halfway toward me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

  He looks at me then and stops. “You’re sure?”

  I can’t help smiling, even knowing what he is. “Yes. Just a bit of an overwhelming day.”

  “It’ll get better.” It’s such a common phrase people toss out in such situations, but he sounds so sincere that I latch onto his words as if they are a promise.

  “Any day now, people,” Coach Billings says as he motions for us, and a few other stragglers, to catch up to the group.

  As Keller and I walk side by side, I sense the stares. And this time there’s more than the jealous girls staring at me and the guys plotting their moves to be close to me. Now Keller is catching a few dagger-like glares as well. The other guys do not like that he’s walking and talking with me.

  How long before the newness wears off and people stop staring? It can’t be soon enough.

  “It looks like your popularity rating is slipping with each step,” I say, suddenly finding it easier to talk to him.

  “Oh, darn.”

  We look at each other and smile. My heart soars so high I expect it to shoot out of the top of my head.

  Hunter, hunter, hunter. Why do I have to keep reminding myself?

  Because based on our limited interactions, he seems nice. But it’s more than that. There is something solid and understated about Keller, like he’s comfortable in his own skin. If I hadn’t seen him with the bloodstone, I’d never have pegged him as a hunter. Good thing I’d seen it then. Corralli
ng my power around everyone is important, but him even more so.

  The coach splits us into two baseball teams, much to the dismay of some of our classmates. I catch the look of triumph on Stacy’s face when she’s placed on the same team as Keller, leaving me on the opposing team with a bunch of people I don’t know. If I were still with my own kind, I could deal with a self-confident bitch. But here, among humans with no supernatural abilities, I’m powerless to retaliate. It’d be the same as a Master Witch taking on a five-year-old barely beginning to levitate objects.

  “Hey.”

  I sigh inwardly as I turn and see a blond, surfer-ish boy standing next to me. “Hey.”

  “Looks like we’re on the same team.”

  “So it appears.” Captain Obvious.

  “I’m Eric. I’m a friend of Keller’s and Toni’s. I saw you sitting with them at lunch.”

  The memory of his face clicks into place. I’d nearly knocked him down as I fled the lunchroom. “Oh, yeah, sorry about the near collision. Can’t say lunch agreed with me.”

  “Takes years of practice to develop the required steel stomach lining.”

  I smile at his comment. He’s flirting, that much is clear, but it’s on the light side and I sense he’s a good guy at heart. Not like some of the others who’ve been ogling me, maybe planning various ways to get me alone.

  “So, you any good at baseball?”

  “Not really,” I say as I take a spot on the bench to wait my turn up as batter.

  It’s always been a mystery how I can perform ballet moves without flaw, but when it comes to sports I become the Queen of Clumsyland. I actually like it though, because it makes me feel normal, even if it did make me a potential target in my coven.

  A glance across the field reveals Keller standing at second base. Even from this distance, I see the firm set of his jaw and the hard stare he levels at Eric. It shocks me, the intensity of his reaction—not because I haven’t seen other guys shooting invisible daggers today, but because it feels so similar to my own reaction when Stacy attempted to move in on him.

  Fear and excitement partner for a tango inside me as I consider the attraction between us. I imagine I feel the lick of the flames as I play with that particular fire.

  I keep up my end of the conversation with Eric, who I’ve decided I like, but I rarely take my eyes from Keller. I love how he looks as he runs for a fly ball, how much taller and leaner he appears when he stretches out to make a catch. My body flushes warmer than even the warmth of the day can account for. For a moment I fear my power is generating the heat, but no, it’s just good, old-fashioned lusting.

  I also notice the ugly looks Stacy’s giving me. People living on the International Space Station can probably see them they are so obvious.

  When it’s my turn to bat, I dampen my natural strength as I walk to home plate. Now is not the time for an All-Star moment on the off chance the bat actually connects with the ball. When the pitch comes, I take aim and miss it. Same with the second one.

  “Come on, Jax,” Eric encourages from the bench, like he believes I can do this. And suddenly I want to not suck so bad at sports. I feel like another potential friend is depending on me. So I eye the pitcher’s movements, then the trajectory of the ball as I take aim. Somehow, I manage a hit that should safely get me to first base.

  Of course, I trip over my own feet as I try to head for my goal. When I untangle my legs, I have to remind myself to run at such a slow pace for me that it’s ridiculous. Halfway to first base, I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. And then a ball hits me in the side of the head. I spin toward the person who’s thrown it, remembering only at the last second that I should fall and indicate pain. In fact, my temple does sting a little.

  “Oops, sorry,” Stacy says from a few feet away. “Guess I haven’t figured out where I should be aiming.”

  For a blessed moment, I imagine roasting her alive, but bank that urge as the coach and my classmates rush up to make sure Stacy hasn’t bashed in the side of my head.

  “Are you okay?” several of them ask in unison.

  “Back up, everyone,” the coach orders. “Give me room to get her inside.”

  I gently but firmly push at the man’s hands. “I’m okay. It barely hit me, just startled me really.” I look up at Stacy and offer a false smile. “I’m just glad it wasn’t thrown by someone with any strength.”

  Snickers and a couple of slapping high fives ripple through the group. Stacy, on the other hand, looks like she might go into a fit.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” Coach Billings says.

  “Really, I’m not hurt at all,” I say, using the tiniest fraction of my power to shift his thoughts so he doesn’t insist I see the school nurse. “I’d like to keep playing.”

  He still doesn’t look sure, but finally caves to my assurances that I’m not bleeding to death inside my skull. “Okay, back to your spots. And Stacy, be more careful.”

  As everyone jogs back to their positions, I catch Stacy’s eye and give my new nemesis my best “don’t mess with me” look. Stacy replies with a mutinous glare of her own, but she finally turns and stalks back to her spot on the field.

  We make it through an inning without incident, until my team’s loaded the bases and I’m due up to bat again. As Stacy-engineered luck would have it, she steps onto the pitcher’s mound. What looks like smug self-assurance tugs at her features. No doubt she’s going to try to bean me with the ball, not caring if she gets in trouble for it. While watching her get marched off to the principal’s office would be entertaining, I have something better in mind—if I can pull out a miracle and actually hit the ball a second time.

  Our eyes meet as I move up to the plate. You want war, you got war.

  As Stacy lets fly with a surprisingly powerful pitch, I make an adjustment in my stance. I watch the ball spin in the air as if it’s traveling in slow motion, think of it as geometry and physics, not sport. At precisely the right moment, I swing.

  The crack of the bat causes several of the people on the field to jump. They all look up as the ball sails above their heads, over the fence and into the woods. My teammates start jumping up and down, screaming as the three runners on base and then finally I come across home plate smiling. I didn’t even trip over myself this time. Yes! That felt good.

  Eric swings me around in a circle. “She’s pretty and can hit a home run. I think I’m in love.” He says it in such a teasing, fun-loving way that his words don’t bother me. In fact, his reaction, as well as those of my other teammates, does more to make me feel like a normal girl fitting in at a new, normal school than anything has all day.

  I look through the swarm of joyous teens to see Stacy staring hard at me, likely already concocting her next attack. Let it come. Compared to what I’ll face from my family if they ever find me, Stacy is the smallest of potatoes. She might try to rip apart my reputation, but my coven will literally rip me apart from the inside out.

  The joy filling me seeps away, and I notice Keller heading inside without a glance in my direction. Is he a sore loser? Or does his reaction have more to do with Eric and my response to him? Or maybe he was never interested to begin with. My stomach swirls as I watch his retreating shape and fight the urge to run after him.

  It’s better—no, safer—this way.

  Keller has already disappeared into the depths of the boys’ locker room when I enter the gym. With no other option, I head for the showers. Stacy and her entourage are waiting for me.

  “You think you’re going to be queen bee, don’t you?”

  She seriously just used the phrase queen bee? I resist an eye roll.

  “I can honestly say I have no desire whatsoever to dethrone you.”

  “Oh, really? Then you didn’t just try to show me up?”

  “I hit a baseball. And it’s not like you didn’t start this little turf war.”

  “I know your type. You strut in, the hot new thing, knowing you’ll get whatever boy you
crook your finger at.”

  “Know the signs from experience, do you?” I turn my back to Stacy and her clique and head for my locker. But Stacy isn’t so easily dismissed.

  “I wasn’t finished talking,” Stacy spits out.

  “Well, I am.” Why can’t she leave me alone? I want to soak in thoughts of Keller and hope he hasn’t already lost interest in me.

  I stop and stare into the recesses of my locker. Why am I torturing myself this way? I can’t get involved with Keller, and fantasizing about him just makes that irrefutable fact more painful. I have to watch every step if I value my life and that of those around me. If I expose myself, I’ll endanger anyone nearby. And I can’t live with that.

  “I saw the way Keller looked at you,” Stacy says.

  I can’t help a little jolt of excitement. How had he looked at me? I push that question down, telling myself the answer isn’t important. “And that’s my fault how?”

  “Hello, obvious.”

  I spin toward Stacy and take a step toward her. “I’m not your competition. Seems like Keller isn’t terribly interested in you, and it makes you feel better to pretend it’s because of me.”

  Stacy gasps. “You bitch.”

  “Close, but you don’t win the prize.” With that, I grab a towel and stalk toward the showers.

  I’m surprised Stacy and the Bitch Clique don’t bother me anymore, but when I leave the shower and dress, the other girls are already gone. Granted, I stayed under the stream of hot water longer than I should have, so I have to hurry to make it to sixth period. At least it’s Art, a good way to end the day.

  When I step in the door as the bell rings, Toni waves me over to a table on the opposite side of the room.

  “Why did you run out of the cafeteria earlier?”

  “Upset stomach.”

  “Say no more. So, I hear you hit a mean homerun in P.E.,” Toni says as Ms. Appleton, the pretty, dark-haired teacher who looks about two years out of college, walks into the room.