Easy Bake Coven

by Liz Schulte

  “No, Selene. I don’t think this is funny. If you’d stop acting like a scared deer every time you see me and listen, maybe you wouldn’t be so utterly stupid. I have no choice but to be here. Had I any other option, I would have never come to you of all people.” His dark green eyes were almost black with rage, and he inched closer as he spat his words out.

  “And damn it all, stop calling me Mr. Hunt! Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?” He threw my anger back at me beat for beat, his eyes blazing as he tried to grab me again. Once again his hands were stopped three inches from my arms, apparently unable to get any closer.

  I studied his hovering hands with curiosity that battled the fear and anger away. Why couldn’t he touch me? “What else am I supposed call you?” I asked.

  He threw up his hands in exasperation. “Cheney. Just bloody well call me Cheney.”

  “And not that I’m complaining, but why can’t you touch me?”

  “Because you aren’t allowing it,” he growled then strode away. After about five paces, he turned back. “I’m coming by tonight. Be ready. No more games, Selene.” And like that he disappeared into thin air.

  Holy shit.

  Cheney had absconded with my cell phone, so I had no way to call anyone and Grandma was in no state to talk. When visiting hours ended, I slowly walked out of the hospital, leery of everything and everyone I passed. The two of them had officially freaked me out. I stopped by a market on my way home to buy food for dinner—for me and Stewie. When I arrived home, I carefully surveyed the yard before getting out of my car.

  I hoped rather than believed Cheney didn’t know where I lived. I got out of the car as quickly as possible and opened the trunk. I picked up my one grocery bag and adjusted my purse so I could also grab the cat food. As soon as I had the bags, the trunk shut without me touching it.

  “Need a hand?” Cheney’s voice came from behind me.

  I turned toward him, adrenaline pumping through my veins as my body readied to dump everything and run, but all he did was take the bag of groceries from my arms.

  “How do you appear out of nowhere? Are you magic?”

  He cocked an eyebrow and shot me a half smirk that would’ve been ridiculously sexy if I didn’t hate him—and if he didn’t scare the crap out of me. “Shall we?”

  I rolled my eyes but led him to the front door. “If I let you in, will you promise not to hurt me?” A fat lot of good a promise would do me, but having one would make me feel better at least.

  “If I wanted to hurt you, I already would’ve, Selene.”

  The way my named rolled off his tongue sent chills down my spine. It was so familiar, yet completely terrifying. “So why are you here?”

  He didn’t reply, only nodded toward the door.

  “You didn’t promise,” I said stubbornly.

  He looked up at the sky. “I promise harm will not come to Selene Warren this night by my hands. If it does, may the stars rain down fire upon me and may my flesh boil from my body for all eternity.” He looked back at me with a wicked smile. “Happy now?”

  “A simple ‘I promise’ would’ve been fine,” I muttered as I opened the door and flipped the light switch. In the kitchen Cheney placed the bag on the counter, then leaned against it and stared at me. Something swam underneath the surface of his calm gaze, but I couldn’t figure out what. He looked lean and dangerous—a predator watching its prey. I tried to ignore him and the nervous energy that swirled in my stomach as I ripped open the cat food bag and poured it into Stewie’s dish.

  “Here kitty, kitty.” I had little hope of him showing up with a stranger in the house.

  The sound of a phone vibrating practically sent me into cardiac failure. Cheney snickered and pulled my phone out of his pocket, obviously enjoying how jumpy I was.

  “Who’s Michael Christian?” he asked, an unfathomable expression on his face.

  I met his gaze. He knew everything about my past but not that I’d been dating Michael. Very interesting. It didn’t take long for anger to find its way to the surface though. Was he looking through my phone? “None of your damn business. Give me back my phone.”

  “He keeps calling. Rather desperate, don’t you think?”

  I reached for my phone. He stretched his hand out of my reach. “Should I answer it?”

  “No! Just give me back my phone. You have no right.”

  Cheney arched a brow, his finger hovering over the talk button.

  “Michael is my boyfriend.” I flinched. “I mean fiancé.” Saying the new title out loud made my stomach flutter. It was going to take some getting used to. “Now for Pete’s sake, give it back.”

  Cheney’s eyes hardened, all traces of teasing gone, and he stared at me as if I had just stabbed his mom. We spoke at the same time,

  “Why are you here?”

  “You have a fiancé?”

  We had a standoff, of sorts, in the middle of my grandmother’s kitchen. The tension couldn’t have been hacked away with a chainsaw. It was as if every particle between us waited for something to ignite them. Stewie slithered around my legs. I broke eye contact with Cheney and scooped my cat off the floor. Stewie lounged in my arms like the fat orange hairball he was. He purred loudly and put a soft paw on my cheek. “How are you, pumpkin?“ I asked, glad to have a distraction from the strange man.

  Cheney reached his hand toward Stewie.

  “He doesn’t like strangers,” I tried to warn him, but he ignored me. I braced myself for the claws and panicked getaway, but Stewie didn’t object. He stayed perfectly content in my arms as Cheney petted him, purring even louder. The little traitor.

  “He likes me just fine.”

  “Well, at least one of us does.” I could feel Cheney’s eyes boring into me though I refused to look at him. He was standing too close. “Now tell me already—why exactly are you here?”

  “What’s your boyfriend like?” he countered.

  “Fiancé,” I corrected and he flinched. Curious. I was about to tell him Michael was big and strong and on his way over when the sound of glass breaking came from the living room. Cheney was gone in a flash. I dropped Stewie, and he bolted in the opposite direction. I ran into the living room to see what was going on.

  Two men with black hair and all black clothing stood in front of Cheney.

  “We’re not here for you,” one of the men said.

  “Where is she?” growled the other.

  My eyebrows pulled together. Did they not see me? Must have been distracted by Cheney…

  “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t let you lot have her.” Menace and the promise of pain to anyone who dared cross him saturated Cheney’s voice. The men lunged at Cheney as he pulled a small curved sword from the air. A few quick slashes and turns later, both men were on the ground, vital pieces spread all over the carpet. One by one the pieces evaporated.

  I had been a witch long enough to hear the rumors about the Abyss. Stories circulated that the creatures who made up our fairy tales and nightmares lived there, but I never believed it. I was woefully unprepared for them to be in my grandmother’s house, and my brain struggled for a more practical explanation. I met Cheney’s annoyed expression when I looked up.

  “Do you see why you need to stop playing games and listen?”

  “I’m not playing any games—”

  “Like hell you aren’t. It has to stop, Selene.” He charged me, his face inches from mine.

  “What sort of ‘game’ do you think I’m playing? I don’t know why you’re here, who you are, or what I could possibly have to do with any of this. Perhaps if you’d stop trying to scare me and tell me what you want, we could get somewhere.”

  “Bullshit. I don’t know why I even bother.” He turned away and paced, tossing an occasional glance in my direction.

  “God damn it, who are you? What are you doing here? Who were those men? How do you disappear and appear wherever you like? And what do you want with me?” Years of pent up anger suddenly raged throug
h me. I clenched my fists at my side to keep from attacking him.

  He frowned. “I’m Cheney.”

  “Yes, you’ve told me that, but you act like I know you. I’ve never met you. Aren’t you listening to me at all?”

  “You most certainly do know me.”

  “I’ve never seen you before in my life!” With this final shout, the wall to the left of Hunt cracked from floor to ceiling, and a tremor ran through the floor. Oh shit. I let myself get too worked up. The last time this happened was the night my parents died. I closed my eyes, trying to stop the energy coursing from my body. The sounds of glass shattering around me only set me more on edge. I couldn’t lose control, not again. My head throbbed with energy, power.

  “Look at me,” Cheney commanded softly.

  I opened my eyes and met his. “Give me your hand,” he said in the same gentle tone.

  The room was shaking, things were flying off the shelves, and everything made of glass had shattered. My head continued to pulse. I put my shaking hand into Hunt’s and sparks crackled the air where our skin met. The next instant I stood on the beach.

  “Ground your energy, Selene.” Cheney’s voice was calm and patient as if he’d done this a thousand times.

  I looked at him, not knowing what he was talking about.

  “Touch the ground. Send your energy into the sand.”

  I did as he told me, and my vision went dark. Then there was nothing.

  I opened my eyes and I was lying in my bed, the moon shining peacefully into my room and Stewie curled into a ball on the pillow next to me. Thank God it was all a dream. I sat up, stretching my arms. What a weird—

  My relief stuttered to an abrupt halt.

  Cheney, all long, lean muscle and noble bone structure, leaned against the doorframe watching me. He wasn’t just handsome. In an unkempt, wild sort of way, he oozed sex appeal. His eyes darkened with interest when I looked at him.

  No, it wasn’t just a dream. Not just a dream at all.

  He came toward me like he was approaching a feral animal, doing everything in his power to appear non-threatening, which was impossible since every ounce of his being screamed hunter—just like his name. “Do you know where you are?” he asked.

  “In my room.”

  He nodded and sat on the edge of my bed. There was so much going on under the surface of his eyes, I couldn’t guess at what he was thinking. “You really don’t know me, do you?”

  I shook my head, positive I’d never met him. He wasn’t someone I was likely to have forgotten. Again he was too close to me, and it was hard to breathe.

  “Do you want to?” he asked even softer than before.

  I didn’t think I could speak, let alone answer that question. I continued to stare into his eyes, unblinking and drowning in their seas. Golden flakes I hadn’t noticed before sparkled in the green depths like sunshine playing on waves. The front door slammed. Cheney scowled.

  “Stay here,” he commanded as if I were a soldier. A moment later he disappeared.

  Of course I didn’t stay put. This was my house—well, my grandmother’s anyway—not his. I unwound from the covers and crept to the stairs, careful to avoid all of the squeaky boards.

  “What a pleasant surprise.” A high voice with a faint accent I couldn’t place drifted up to me.

  “Meadow. Bella.” Cheney didn’t sound welcoming, and the two female voices that returned his greeting were equally chilly. “Cheney,” they said in unison.

  “I have killed your scouts,” he continued. “She isn’t here. I’ll give you the opportunity to leave now or you’ll meet an equal fate.”

  “We have our orders.”

  “You can have her over my dead body.”

  “If it must be.”

  “It must.”

  “So be it.”

  “Whenever you’re ready.” I could nearly hear the smile tilting Cheney’s mouth.

  “We want to check the house.”

  “No. The house is mine. Look elsewhere.”

  “You have no claim.”

  “And I say I do. If you care to challenge me, Meadow, I’ll happily end this all here and now.”

  There was a long silence. I thought about moving in closer, but common sense stopped me. Cheney was protecting me from these people. The last thing I should do was alert them to my presence.

  “I feel no one else here,” a different female voice stated.

  “Another day, Prince.”

  “So be it,” he spoke in a similarly flat voice. The front door slammed shut, then footsteps behind me made me jump.

  “I told you to stay in your room,” Cheney growled, grabbing my arm with a self-satisfied smile.

  “You did, but I don’t take orders from you.” I yanked my arm away from him, not liking the flush coming to my cheeks. “I thought you couldn’t touch me.”

  “I couldn’t, but you were obliging enough to break the barrier for me.”

  “I—what? How?”

  “You touched me.” He squeezed my hand, and my breath caught in my throat.

  “I most certainly did not.” As soon as the denial was out of my mouth, I remembered taking his hand when I was having my melt down. “You tricked me.”

  “That’s what I do best. It’s open season, princess.” He pressed his nose into my cheek and his lips brushed my face as he spoke, “I can touch you all I want now.”

  My entire being burned from the inside out and my heart clamored loudly in my ears. I laid both hands flat against his chest and turned my head slightly toward him. He leaned in, eyes dancing with anticipation. I pushed him with all the strength I had in my body and mind.

  He rocked back slightly, giving me enough room to dart down a couple steps and put distance between us. “I may have broken whatever barrier existed, but that was not an invitation. You stay away from me!” I ran down the stairs toward the front door, but Cheney materialized in front of me, blocking my escape.

  I scrambled backward, tripping on the steps.

  Cheney held his hands up innocently, fingers spread wide. “I’m just teasing you.”

  “Then let me leave.” I continued to back away from him until I was pressed against a wall, my cheeks still on fire.

  “I can’t, princess. Right now, I’m the only thing that stands between you and them.”

  I swallowed hard. “Who’s going to stand between you and me?”

  “You do a fine job of that. I don’t think you need any assistance,” he muttered.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Are you ready to listen?

  “It’s really annoying that you answer my questions with a question.” Cheney gave a small sincere smile, but made no comment. “I’ll listen to what you have to say.”

  “Well, there’s a first time for everything.” He glanced over to the glass-covered living room then back at me. “Perhaps we should sit in the kitchen.”

  I took in the house for the first time since I came downstairs. It looked like a natural disaster. I destroyed my grandma’s house. It was filled with cracks and broken glass. She’d have a heart attack if she came home to this. “Did I do all that?” I asked though I knew I had.

  Cheney glanced around. “Yeah. You never have been able to control your temper. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it later. Right now, we’re talking, yes?”

  I gave him a dubious look. “I’ve always been able to control my temper. I never fly off the handle. If you think otherwise, you don’t know me at all.”

  “Whatever you say.” He motioned toward the kitchen. “Shall we?”

  I plopped myself down on a kitchen chair and waited for Cheney to start talking.

  “What do you know?” he asked.

  “I was living a perfectly peaceful, happy existence in Raleigh until you showed up being creepy.” He gave me an impatient look and I shrugged. I didn’t know what he wanted from me. “I was on a terrific date last night with an incredible man, and then I got a p
hone call saying Grandma fell, so I came here. Now my life has completely gone to hell. I don’t know who you are, who those people were, or why anyone would be after me or my grandma.”

  “Your grandma? No one’s after your grandma. They’re after you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re a changeling.” Cheney looked at me expectantly, but the word changeling meant nothing to me. “Do you know what that is?” he finally asked.

  “Not a clue.”

  “It’s a member of one race, normally fae, who’s given to humans to be raised as their own. Just normally not in these circumstances.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on the kitchen table. “You’re an elf, like me—well, not exactly like me. You‘re only half.”

  I glanced around the room, knowing this had to be a joke of some kind.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Gandolf,” I cracked, trying not to laugh.

  He pursed his lips. “I’m serious. You need to listen.”

  “Oh, I’m listening, but all I hear is crazy.”

  “You don’t believe in elves? How do you explain the bodies evaporating? How can I disappear and reappear? How do you explain your own abilities?”

  “Magic. I just don’t know how you do it.”

  “Do you remember the Abyss?”

  “I have heard of it, but, come on, seriously?”

  “Why can you believe in magic but not the Abyss? Where do you think your magic comes from?”

  I didn’t respond. How could I? I had no explanation. I had heard of the Abyss, but I wasn’t a part of it. It had nothing to do with our innocent little coven. The smile fell from my face. I suspended my doubts and tried to absorb his words in my mind. “So you’re saying as a baby I was switched with a human child? What happened to the child I was switched with? If I’m half elf, what’s the other half?”

  Cheney shook his head. “Normally that would be the case, but this is slightly more complicated. You lived as a half-elf for decades before you decided to become a changeling—”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Cheney sighed and stared at his hands. “You became mixed up with a group who convinced you to become a changeling to increase their power. You were led astray.”