by Tasha Black
“Today we’re talking about sympathetic magic,” Professor Batts said.
Lark looked over at me and winked.
“Does anyone know what sympathetic magic is?” the professor asked.
Lark looked around. When it was clear no one else was going to raise their hand, she stuck hers in the air.
“Lark,” the professor said.
“Sympathetic magic is all about the overwhelming desire of the parts to form the whole,” Lark said.
“Exactly,” Professor Batts said triumphantly. “I couldn’t have explained it better myself. Each of you has a ring of spell-forged mercury. I want you to use the secare spell to split your ring into two equal bodies. Then you’re going to reform the bodies using the simul spell I’m going to note on the board. It’s important when using the simul spell that you focus your energies on the ring itself, and not on other objects in the room. Do I make myself clear?”
There was some giggling, but mostly we all nodded in agreement.
“Very well, have at it,” she invited us sternly.
I bit my lip. I didn’t know the secare spell, whatever that was.
“Oh, Miss Hawthorne, you don’t know the secare spell, do you dear?” Professor Batts asked, leaning over my tray.
I shook my head.
“Oh, that’s fine, love,” she said with a warm smile. “There’s really no point to you worrying about this anyway. Just watch your friends and enjoy.”
She began to take my tray.
“No,” I blurted, much louder than I intended.
She blinked at me in shock, and a few of the other students stared.
“I-I’d like to learn anyway,” I said. “As much as I can.”
“Very well,” she said, a spark of what I thought might be respect in her eyes as she placed the tray back down and straightened. “Anya will show you the secare spell. Just do your best. Primrose wasn’t built in a day.”
In my case, it might have to be. But I hoped not.
I nodded to her and turned back to Anya, who was grinning.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “I just never thought I’d see you standing up to a professor on your third day of school.”
“I’ve seen a lot of things I didn’t expect to see this week,” I quipped. “Including solid mercury. Want to show this to me once before I try to do it myself?”
I wasn’t feeling too confident, but at least the other students had stopped staring and gone back to their own work.
“We’re both going to watch Lark,” Anya said. “I get the feeling this is right up her alley.”
“Ready, guys?” Lark asked, pushing up her glasses with a wicked grin. “Secare.”
We watched as the bar split evenly in two, as if it had been sliced by an invisible knife. She nudged the pieces further apart and began to murmur to them.
First, the one on the left seemed to shiver. Then the one on the right wobbled and flopped itself over.
She tried again, and we watched as the pieces trembled and flopped like fish, but stayed on opposite sides of the tray.
“Almost, Lark,” the professor said encouragingly. “Third time’s a charm. They won’t be able to resist.”
I had a sudden unbidden image in my mind of Luke and me, standing inches apart in that cave last night, trying desperately not to give in to our unspoken desires.
Third time’s a charm.
I really hoped that wasn’t the case with us.
I watched as Lark murmured the words a third time and the two halves of her ring snapped together with a metallic clink.
“Whoa,” I said.
“It’s easy,” Lark explained. “When the bodies really want to be together, all it takes is a little nudge.”
The overwhelming desire of the parts to form the whole.
God, I really was doomed.
22
Luke
I traversed the labyrinth early, hoping to get to the courtyard for Bella before the sunset stretched shadows over the castle. Things could lie in ambush in that sudden darkness.
The headmistress had come to the council herself after our meeting, wearing a velvet cloak, and an expression of fury on her ageless face.
She was plain with her words.
There had been a sloppy break-in at the library, and we had not prevented it. She had allowed us the pick of her young charges for our mates, and we couldn’t even stop an amateur thief from muddying up her marble floors.
I couldn’t say I blamed her for her anger. It was shocking that my brothers hadn’t picked up on the hellhound that wandered the woods last night.
And I felt guilty that I had hidden Bella away instead of fighting. But she was my mate. It was my nature and my duty to protect her.
Dueling allegiances battled in my chest, and I wanted nothing more than to shift and howl at the inconstant gods for watching over all of this impassively.
But even as my mind tangled, my feet moved quickly. I began to jog as I got closer to the opening of the boxwood maze. The wait for evening had been endless.
If I thought I was worried for Bella last night, now I was frantic. My thoughts began to run in rhythm with my footsteps.
I have to claim her tonight.
I have to claim her tonight.
I have to claim her tonight.
“Luke?” her soft voice startled me out of my reverie.
She stood just outside the entrance to the labyrinth, her eyes wide with fear.
“Yes, little one, it’s me,” I told her, the endearment falling out of my mouth again without my permission.
I opened my arms and she fell into them.
A symphony of emotion played through me at the soft feel of her curled against me. I closed my eyes and tried to memorize the melody of her fragrant hair and the warmth of her body pressed to mine.
“Sorry,” she said, quickly pulling away.
It took all my restraint not to clamp her to me. But I knew it would only hurt my cause.
I had to make her crave my touch and then deny her. Only this would bring the headstrong little witch around and make her ready to be claimed.
And I had to claim her quickly, or risk her very safety. I could not let her go back to that castle again. Not with the threat of the Order hanging over it.
“How was your day?” I asked her casually, leading her back into the labyrinth as if we were normal people going on a normal stroll.
“Kind of crazy,” she admitted. “Something broke into the library - something with paws.”
“You know it wasn’t me, right?” I asked her.
“You were sealed into a cave all night with me,” she said, looking at me like I had lost my mind. “You’re the only one who couldn’t have. But do you think it was the hellhound, or…someone else?”
One of my brothers, was her implication. I appreciated that she knew better than to say it out loud.
“My brothers have pledged their souls to the protection of the library, as I have,” I said carefully. “And a hellhound only operates at the bidding of another, so a break-in seems sophisticated for such a base creature. But, yes, it’s possible that it was a hellhound, and it’s also possible that it was something else. Your headmistress chose to clean up before we could investigate properly.”
A furrow formed on her lovely brow. I resisted the temptation to kiss it away, and focused my eyes on the forest instead.
“What do you mean a hellhound operates at the bidding of another?” she asked me, neatly ignoring my dig at her headmistress.
“There is a group of people who want access to the library,” I told her. “We protect the school from them and from others. They are desperate for stronger magic, and their skills are stepping up recently. I suspect the hellhound is their doing.”
“Who are they?” she asked. “Why don’t they just go to a school if they want to learn magic?”
“There are three ways to obtain magic,” I told her. “Three ways that I know
of, at least. The first was the original magic, born to the recipient and used freely.”
“The fae,” she said dreamily. “I just learned they were real today.”
“Don’t look so lovelorn about them,” I told her firmly. “The fae are no friends to men. And besides, they’ve stayed on their side of the veil for generations.”
She scowled at me, but didn’t argue.
“Shifters, like me, and other magical creatures also fall into that category,” I explained. “We are born with our power.”
It was an oversimplification, but the premise was sound.
“The second kind of magic is what I’m learning, right?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes,” I told her. “Magic for a price, for those lucky enough to be blessed with a touch of the gift. Pay it forward or pay it afterward, your magic must be earned.”
“What about the third kind?” she asked.
“That is where this order of warlocks comes in,” I told her. “They are not born with magic, and they do not earn it. Instead, they steal it.”
“They steal it?” she asked, looking horrified.
“It’s not a pretty idea,” I told her, knowing I could not spare her this knowledge. “Your teachers may explain it differently, but the truth is simple. They steal power from a magical being by pulling it out of them by force.”
“You mean, by…by…” seemed not to want to complete the question.
“By killing them,” I said, sparing her the necessity. “Most times by killing them, but sometimes they manage to keep the vessel alive, to drain it as long as possible.”
I shuddered and tried not to think of my council brother, Jared, who had gone missing in these woods two years ago.
It was tempting to think the increase in the warlocks’ power around the same time was coincidence. Could the fiends have captured him somehow and drawn magic from him to power their mischief?
I hoped not. I hoped he had simply run from his fate. Better that the mighty panther was dishonored than to think of him as dead, or worse.
We’d scoured the forest in search of him for weeks. But he’d vanished completely. It would take quite a bit of magic to hide from the full attention of the entire Brotherhood of Shifters. Not even the Order of the Broken Blade could manage such a feat.
Could they?
“What are you thinking about?” she asked softly.
I remembered our bond. While I was sure she could not yet read my thoughts, I worried that she might have guessed at their flavor.
“Nothing, little one,” I assured her. “I don’t like you being out in these woods with things so out of sorts. Let’s pick up the pace.”
After a good stretch of walking in comfortable silence, we had nearly reached my cabin. I would keep her safe there.
And I would make her mine.
23
Bella
Part of me felt that I had barely met the man who was meant to be my mate. Another part felt like I’d known him all my life. Reconciling those parts of myself was not as simple as rejoining the pieces of a metal donut. How could I possibly want to run to someone and away from them at the same time?
Whatever the case, I already knew Luke well enough to see the tension in his jaw, to sense it rolling off of him in waves.
Even the mighty guardian was scared of something.
Soft moonlight bounced in a haze between the trees ahead. I wondered if it was the light from his cabin. We must not have been too far from it when the hellhound had shown up and ruined our plans.
Maybe that had been a good thing. If I’d barely been able to resist him in some random cave, I didn’t stand a chance in a cozy little cabin.
“So you and the other guardians, you just live in the woods?” I asked.
“Officially, many of us have jobs as park rangers,” he told me with a smile. “We work those jobs as part of our cover for being here, and to actually protect the wildlife.”
“Do people really come here to camp?” I asked dubiously. It seemed awfully cold and remote, and there was a strange lack of scenery for a mountaintop.
“Believe it or not, they do, occasionally,” he told me. “But the witches at the school do a good job of keeping a haze over the mountain so that it doesn’t photograph well. These days we find that’s what hikers are most interested in.”
“Oh yeah, social media,” I said, nodding and trying to imagine an Instagram worthy shot on this mountain. He was right, the mist made it hard to capture anything dramatic.
“For the most part, the forest remains untouched,” he went on. “Which is a good thing, since we don’t want innocent hikers wandering around here. Especially not now.”
I thought about the idea of the hellhound coming across a family of helpless campers and suppressed a shudder.
Ahead of us, the vegetation had thinned, and the path opened suddenly onto a small meadow. Moonlight bathed Luke’s home in soft glow, and I was amazed to see that it wasn’t some weird little camp cabin, but a sturdy and charming cottage with a cedar shake roof and windows crisscrossed with diamond shapes.
“It used to be a hunting lodge,” he told me as he led me to the door. “I’ve made some changes over the years.”
I could hear the pride in his voice. He clearly loved his house.
The pieces of the puzzle that was Luke rearranged themselves in my mind. I was embarrassed to have thought of him as a feral thing, curling up in caves and huddling around campfires.
He opened the round-topped wooden door and we stepped inside.
A fire was already crackling in an enormous stone fireplace, and I questioned the safety of having a fire going while he was out walking in the woods, even as I soaked in the warmth. But that was probably just the city girl in me.
The floors were a pumpkin color, with wide planks. An oversized leather couch and chair sat across from each other by the fire, looking appropriately-sized for their owner.
What surprised me was the artwork. The walls were covered in colorful paintings, and wood carvings adorned the built-in bookcases, which covered nearly every wall.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, trying to take it all in at once.
“Warm yourself,” he told me. “I’ll grab some drinks.”
I nodded and stepped over to the fire to warm my hands. The mantel was a huge piece of finished wood. Now that I was closer, I could see the tiny trees and animals carved along its surface.
I looked around the room again with fresh eyes. Luke must work with wood. A hunting lodge would not have had a need for so many bookcases. There was a window seat at every window. And even the table and chairs in the dining area were roughhewn with a satisfyingly heavy look, just like the mantel.
The exposed beams of the ceiling were beautifully finished, with strange and lovely symbols carved into them.
I wondered how long this had taken him to complete. How many hours had he spent alone in this house, making it beautiful for himself?
“Mulled wine,” he said, carrying out a tray and placing it on the table. “Good for a cold night. Do you want to sit, or see the house first?”
“I want to see the house,” I said quickly.
Mostly out of genuine curiosity, but partly because I didn’t want to consider what came next once we stopped moving.
He held out a steaming mug to me. “I’d be glad to show you around.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Did you do all of this woodwork? It’s beautiful.”
His rare smile was warmer than the mug in my hand. My heart throbbed helplessly.
“I did,” he said. “I’m glad you like it.”
“How did you make the mantel?” I asked.
“I found that wood after a terrible storm,” he told me. “A big tree had been struck by lightning. I went to make sure no one had been hurt, and as soon as my eyes hit the downed tree, I just saw that mantel.”
“You saw it?” I echoed.
“That’s how it happens with wood carvings,” he ex
plained. “They seem to leap into my mind fully formed. Then it’s just a matter of removing everything that isn’t part of the picture.”
“You’re making it sound easy,” I teased him.
“Believe me, it isn’t,” he said, eyeing the mantel with a wry smile. “If I didn’t have shifter healing, I might have lost a finger working on that.”
Healing?
“Shifters have special healing?” I asked, all thoughts of woodworking suddenly gone from my mind.
“Yes,” he said. “We can heal quickly from most normal injuries.”
“That’s incredible,” I said, trying hard not to get ahead of myself. “Can you heal someone else?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t,” he said, shaking his head.
“How did you become a shifter?” I asked, my mind racing.
“What do you mean?” he asked me, a crease forming on his brow.
“I mean, can someone else become a shifter?” I asked. “You know, like a human?”
“Ah, like in the movies?” he asked.
I nodded.
“No,” he said. “I’m not going to bite you and turn you into a werewolf.”
“But you could, if you wanted to?” I asked.
“Wolves are born, not made,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Oh,” I said, the disappointment heavy on my heart. The colors in the room seemed to fade a little even though I hadn’t used any magic.
“But our children would be shifters,” he told me. “The male ones at least.”
I nodded, not wanting to speak over the lump in my throat.
“If we accept the mate bond,” he added.
His voice was oddly light. Until now, he had referred to the bond as an inevitable end to our time together.
“Come on, let me show you the kitchen,” he said, before I could dwell on it.
I followed him past the wooden table and chairs and through the rounded archway. His big body blocked my view, but when he stepped inside the kitchen revealed itself.
Wooden cabinets were topped with honed stone counters and there was a large window over the sink. Hand-carved open shelves housed fresh produce and seemingly endless glass jars of spices.
