Psychic Witch: A New Immortals Universe Novel (House of Magic Book 2)

by Ariel Hunter

  The seal that had been placed on the Whirlpool had timed out, finally, and the humans had stopped screaming as they were able to spill out of the Club exit. My other human friends seemed physically fine, just a bit frantic, and they left in a hurry. Callan and I watched them flee and then he took my hand. “Let’s go home.”

  “I don’t want to leave Anya alone,” I said. I was too worried about her being by herself after the shit that just happened to us. Again. But she stepped forward, shaking her head.

  “I’m okay. We will catch up later. Just take me back to my place, if that’s all right. I’d rather get to sleep.” I searched her eyes for any nuance of other intention, but it seemed like she really meant her words. We teleported back to Callan’s, and I gave Anya a hug before he took her back to her home. He wanted to reinforce the wards that were already placed around her home. I anxiously waited up for him to return. There were some things for us to sort out.

  When Callan reappeared, I was quick to greet him and I followed him to the kitchen. My energy had returned after the exhaustion of throwing all the water spells and I was a bit buoyed after getting my way from the Council of Witches. It was time to demand one more thing.

  “Callan, why did you choose to have an arranged marriage with me?”

  He nearly dropped the glass he had been filling with water and then turned to look at me slowly.

  “It was a rational match.” He put the glass down, without drinking it, and turned down the hallway. I followed behind him as he went toward his room.

  “It was not a rational match. I didn’t even have my color reveal at the time. You had no way of knowing if I would be red like my mom, or less. Or orange like my dad. Or something insane like this wild pink magic I did get. So, what’s the real reason?”

  “Both your mom and dad are skilled, intelligent witches, I knew you would be too. It was rational for the witching genome, even if you ended up with less than red.” He walked into his room, and I paused, standing at his doorway.

  “That’s not a real answer. I know you have been putting off the Council for weeks, allowing the arranged marriage to stay extended.” Callan stood by a reading chair and looked at me, waiting for me to finish. “But I know you aren’t pushing for it to come to fruition. Or be annulled. Why?”

  “Are you really ready to have this conversation? Because every chance you get, you make sure to remind me that we aren’t anything. And that we never will be.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” I said, raising my voice. “Wouldn’t you fight against it if someone told you that you had to get married? Spend the rest of your immortal fucking life with someone and that you had no choice?”

  “I was told that,” he answered, his eyes narrowed.

  “No, no you weren’t. It’s not the same. Don’t give me that shit. You had a say. You got to sign off on the match. I was just informed that whether I liked it or not, I was supposed to marry someone. Someone I barely knew. It’s archaic, and frankly it’s just fucking wrong,” I said.

  “You did know me,” he said softly. “We knew each other as kids.”

  I crossed my arms and stared at him. “You tried to make me eat frogs, Callan. Not the best way to a young girl’s heart.”

  He crossed his arms in return and nodded. “Fair enough. But you still didn’t answer the question. Are you ready for this conversation? If we talk about it, it’s out there. No more tiptoeing around it anymore.”

  “Fine. I’m ready. Why me?”

  “Because I’m in love with you,” Callan said, his voice terse.

  “Be fucking serious,” I snapped.

  He glared at me. “I am. I’ve been in love with you since we were just kids. Frogs and all. I can’t explain it. It was a connection. You were the reason I stayed as long as I did. The reason I didn’t want to go off to school. And you were also the reason I wanted to leave.” His chest heaved in his admission. “The Council was going to arrange your marriage. I couldn’t put them off it. Your mom couldn’t put them off it. Even your uncle couldn’t, although he was lobbying for you to be paired with Trent.” His face twisted into something dark. I saw a hint of that fire in him that I had only seen sparks of before. “And I’d be damned if I saw you matched with someone else.”

  I stood in the doorway, staring at his taut body, fists clenching in and out. Tingles rushed through my veins and I felt light-headed. I didn’t know what was happening.

  Callan walked closer to me, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he breathed slowly, heavily. “And every chance you get, you throw it in my face, unwilling to give anything real between us a chance. I knew I should have let this thing I have for you go, but I can’t. I tried. And it drives me insane.”

  He leaned into me, placing both hands on my waist, his fingertips pressing into my flesh, clutching me, his chest against mine. My nipples hardened as he bent over so his forehead touched mine. He was waiting for me to speak.

  Say something . . . I told myself. Say something to him, say something back . . . For fuck’s sake, say anything. And nothing came out. Instead, I stood there frozen.

  His eyes closed, paused so beautifully in thoughts he was fighting within himself. He pulled me in tighter to him and I thought, for a moment, he was going to kiss me, but then he pushed me out of his doorway.

  His eyes flared; the hazel glow of vulnerable adoration suddenly heated to something else entirely.

  “And this is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

  Then he slammed his bedroom door in my face.

  I opened and closed my mouth twice, staring at the barrier between us.

  Fuck.

  Maybe I could have said . . .

  But what would I have said?

  He loves me?

  How did that make any sense?

  Should I knock now?

  No.

  That would be even worse . . . Because what would I say, then?

  I stayed staring at the door as the seconds stretched on, feeling his fingers on my waist and my shoulders, his forehead leaning against mine.

  Then I tiptoed away to my bedroom and slipped out of my clothes, crawling into bed, tired and aching. Zilla curled up into the crook of my arm where he had taken to sleeping.

  As I laid my head on the pillow and closed my eyes, trying to shake my body free of the tingles and confusion from Callan’s touch, I realized that the fire in the Whirlpool had been the fire from my vision at the beach mansion when I had been undergoing the Seer testing.

  Well, shit. I needed to talk to Cassandra.

  Chapter 13

  My uncle chuckled as Zilla skipped around the tabletop and nearly knocked off the pitcher of tea. The little agama scurried to the edge, then dove to a nearby coffee table where he landed on the Pacific Ocean on the globe. Zilla ran in place as it spun and spun until it flung him off. He skittered to a stop on a nearby bookshelf, knocking a few knickknacks off while he was at it. My lizard sniffed at the edges of an old spell book, opened his mouth wide, then sunk his teeth down into the binding, tugging at the book to drag it to the edge. I wanted to face-palm when I realized what he was doing. Zilla stood on the edge, teetering with the book until it went over the side. He watched it fall, then turned and went back for a second book.

  “He is a wily little one, isn’t he?”

  “Asshole is more like it.” I had discovered Zilla’s prankster nature when I had awakened that morning and all the books in my room were on the floor, bite marks in their bindings.

  I walked to the shelf and patted my shoulder. Zilla stretched over to settle onto my shoulder, wrapping his slender electric-blue tail around my neck. He nestled his red head onto his little claws and laid down, closing his eyes and was quickly asleep.

  “I don’t know much yet about how to use him as a familiar, but I guess I will figure it out.” I slid back into my seat at the dining table.

  “What’s it like being a Seer? It always seemed like such a terrifying gift.”

  I shrugged, finding it notabl
e that my uncle might find anything terrifying. “I had a vision of being in a fire, and then, what do you know, yesterday, I was in a fire.”

  “Did your vision reveal that you would put it out too? That you would be able to control so much magic and save people?” My uncle handed me a slice of cheese on a cracker.

  I shook my head. “No, in fact, in the vision, I was quite convinced both Anya and I were going to die.”

  “Hmm . . .” He bit down into a slice of apple. “Seems like that pink magic of yours can be a bit unruly. I’ve heard from your mom.”

  I growled a bit inside. It wasn’t fair for my mom to color my uncle’s opinion of me. I wanted him to gauge me on my own merits, now that I had my own magical power and was part of the witching world he had conquered for centuries.

  Wyatt McTavish, my dad’s brother, was a Voyager. He was a type of warlock that went on classified missions for the Council that teamed up with other supernaturals that were in conflict with the human world. I knew that he was one of the most respected warriors, aligned right there with Trent Brecker. However, Trent was in the limelight as a Knight warrior-class, one that was well-known around the world. Voyagers, on the other hand, kept their identity more secret. My uncle was skilled in weapons as well as magic fighting and was at over three hundred years old, not that he looked it. He had a much bushier mustache since the last time I had seen him, though.

  “I’m getting a handle on it. It’s only really a problem when my emotions get in the way. Which is where my familiar will help, I think. That’s the plan, at least.”

  “You get that from your dad. He was the passionate one.” My uncle smiled at me. “Pink magic is quite unique. Certainly caught Callan’s eye. How’s that going?”

  I delayed answering as my mom came in, holding the platter with the bowls of stew she was serving for dinner. My mind flashed to the night before when Callan had said he loved me. Loved me . . . I had avoided him most of the day, and I think he had been happy to do the same.

  “Must be going well given how he acted yesterday at the club. He sure defended you.” My mom set a bowl in front of me.

  “I really don’t want to talk about it,” I growled at her a bit more excessively than I intended. I was really hoping she would take more time in the kitchen. It had been nice conversing with just my uncle.

  “Well, I’m sure it will all work out, kiddo. You’re a powerful witch and if you don’t want Callan, I am sure Trent would be very interested. I’ve worked with him a bit and know he is a gold too.”

  I grunted and ignored the idea. I didn’t want to cause a disagreement, but I certainly wasn’t keen on that. The more I got to know Callan, the more I didn’t think any other gold warlock would ever live up to that example. Best to just change the subject. “So, tell me about your most recent mission.”

  “Well, I was working with a few mer-warriors off the coast of Brazil. Traveling on ships. Mermaids and Mermen that are actually bred with were-people, so they can travel on land, if you believe it.”

  My mom raised her eyebrows. “I don’t believe it.”

  My uncle laughed. “Let it just be one of those stories, then. We were finding one of the sunken ships that came over laden with Spanish gold . . .”

  I let my uncle tell his treasure tale as I ate my soup, but my mind was consumed with thinking of how I needed to contact Cassandra, and smooth things over with Callan. Not to mention find out the weird things going on with Anya. I hadn’t forgotten about what she was trying to say before everything transpired at the club.

  All too much going on in my life right now for tales of treasure hunting with mermaids.

  “When will I see you next, Marnie?”

  I was jolted from my thoughts as I saw we all had empty bowls. “I suppose I will see you at Beltane, right? Are you going to bed already?”

  “I’m catching up on a few arduous months of very little sleep.” He curled his fingers through his mustache as he stood.

  “I understand. Thanks for having dinner with me tonight. And thanks for your support yesterday. It’s nice to have family who cares.” My mom winced a bit and while it hurt to see, she needed to understand she’d gone too far. How many betrayals was I supposed to take?

  My uncle smiled at me. “I’ll always be here for you, kiddo. Well, not here-here—unless you need me here, but you understand. You have more gifts to offer the world than you even realize, and I can’t wait to see what you do with them.” He bowed, then headed off to the room he was staying in.

  “Would you like me to teleport you back to Callan’s?” My mom placed her hand on my arm, and I jerked back immediately. Tears misted her eyes, and she clutched her hand to her chest as if my immediate reaction had burned her. “I’m . . . I’m sorry . . .” she murmured, picking up the bowls with a rush that made her trip as she headed to the kitchen.

  “Goddamnit,” I muttered. I hadn’t meant to hurt her so badly, but really—she had placed a fucking tracking spell on me. I just wasn’t over it.

  There was no need for her to teleport me. I could just summon Callan. It would be a good way to test the incantation, and perhaps emphasize that I did want him near me, even if I couldn’t say it last night.

  I stood up, running my hand over Zilla’s scales. He curled into my touch, content. “Gairm thugam solas.”

  Summon light to me.

  It took about fifteen seconds, and then Callan teleported in. He looked around warily, on guard at first, as if to make sure we were safe, but then he extended his hand when he was sure I had just used the summons for a ride. I took his hand, looking steadily at my mom as she came out of the kitchen, sensing Callan’s teleportation.

  “Good evening, Lila,” he said. She looked like she had been wiping tears from her cheeks.

  Then we teleported out without me saying goodbye to my mom.

  Chapter 14

  Does he have to stay standing on the other side of the fucking room from me the whole goddamn class? I glared at Callan where he was so obviously avoiding me, then flushed pink magic around the fist-sized rock I had been assigned, attempting the teleportation spell. It quivered, shivered, then disappeared. I waited expectantly for it to reappear at the same time on the opposite side of my desk.

  Nothing happened.

  A stack of books rocked to the floor at the front of the class, not far from Callan. Everyone looked at the commotion, momentarily distracted from their own teleportation practices. There, on top of the stack, in the jumble of open pages and tumbled leather covers, was my rock, wisps of pink magic floating around it.

  I walked to the pile, then bent over and picked it up. I looked from the mess of his books to my mess of a Mystic. “Sorry about the clutter.” I turned away from him and went back to my desk, no intention of picking up the books I had spilled. Maybe if Callan actually chose to help me in class, I wouldn’t be sending my rock to the wrong coordinates and making a wreck of his carefully alphabetized textbooks.

  I placed the rock back on the starting point and consulted the guide again. Today was actually the day we were supposed to move from rocks to teleporting our own person. Many of the other students were already doing it. But I was ending up with the same problem: every time I tried to send it to the designated location, it ended up somewhere else. It was often to the place that had last held my attention, like just now when I had been thinking of Callan and I sent the rock to teleport straight into the books not far from him. However, no matter how hard I tried to focus on the spot where the rock was supposed to reappear, I just was failing over and over again to get it to work.

  The other witches and warlocks in class were really happy with their progress and the mood in the classroom was, overall, high-spirited. Even Julia was back. She and Mystic Tamsin had reached a point of quietly ignoring me while enjoying Julia’s own magical instruction. Of course, everyone was happy to learn to teleport. It was one of the most useful magical skills a witch could possess. Though my skills had significantly improved by fo
cusing on pulling from water, I still didn’t feel like I was on the same wavelength as the others.

  It was also the week of Beltane, so everyone was psyched for the numerous festivities. We wouldn’t even be having class on Friday to allow for some of the traditions. It just gave me more time to prepare for the test that I would face on Saturday at the gala. Though I had spoken with confidence to the Paragons about passing the test, the rickety nature of my relationship with Callan at the moment was shaking that a bit. He had left me alone over the weekend but now it was Monday and we still hadn’t resumed training together.

  My friends from Boundless had reached out to me to make sure I was all right after the fire at the Whirlpool, which they had no way of understanding, and I had felt the inevitable distance stretching between us. I wanted that distance to disappear. Was I really never going to get that part of my life back? How was I supposed to prepare to battle a test of the Council of Witches when so much of me had never even wanted to have the abilities that I needed to have in order to make it through that test?

  Now that I had Zilla, I was no longer taking the potion that Cassandra had given me to keep the vision dreams at bay. And they were back. I wasn’t yet knowledgeable with how to use Zilla as a force to control the visions and the way they assailed my brain. Not only while I was having them, but even in the days afterward. The one I had just last night was particularly crap. Being such an avid surfer, I had come close to drowning a few times, like when tossed by big surf if I took a rough ride. It was a fear I faced each time I rode. Yet, this dream . . . it didn’t show just me drowning. It showed me losing control over the water element and unwittingly drowning others. Faceless others, demanding I save them, and all the while, in the dream, I knew at my core: I was just a fraud.

  And here I was, in class, once again, failing over and over.

  How could I argue against a vision like that when reality seemed to support it so fully?

  I put my hands on my desk and bowed my head against my chest for a moment, taking a deep breath. A wiggling in my backpack caught my eye. Zilla’s brilliant golden eyes peeped up at me, his red head tucked in between electric-blue claws. I managed a half-smile. It was hard to even take solace in how adorable he was. He seemed pointless, at the moment. I hadn’t heard from any of the Seers, so, what use was he serving?