Unruly Magic (#2 Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series)

by Camilla Chafer

  “Oh. Good.”

  “I guess. Why don’t you sit down and tell me more about what’s happening?”

  Chyler wobbled over to a chair like a baby gazelle taking its first steps and I frowned at her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine, thank you. So, I don’t really remember much. I was just practising some spells and bam! Something flies out of nowhere and hits me. I think something backfired.”

  “And that’s why the council came?” I couldn’t see the witches’ council bothering about something like a spell backfiring. Unless it was something really hideous.

  “Yes!” Chyler exclaimed. “They just turned up and they were really mad and they wanted to take me somewhere, and I was scared so I just grabbed the book.”

  “Did they say where they wanted to take you?” I asked, trying to recall the details of the vision I’d had when I touched her. Something smelled off.

  Chyler shook her head. “They were really scary, Stella and I was frightened so I didn’t stay and ask.” She shivered and clasped her hands in her lap, her head bowed.

  “What spells were you practising?”

  “Um... I don’t remember.”

  I didn’t miss the flicker of Chyler’s eyelids. She was lying, I was sure.

  “They’re really bad, you know. They want power, any power, and they’ll do anything to get it,” she said, her eyes flicking up to look at me from beneath her lashes.

  That didn’t exactly strike me as untrue. Chyler had intimated before that there wasn’t any successor to Robert Bartholomew and I wondered what it meant to have the council fractured without leadership.

  “And you think they want yours?”

  “Sure, and I bet they’ll make up a bunch of stuff about me to make sure no one wants to help me. You’re my only hope, Stella. I need to know I can rely on you.” Chyler darted another look at me from under her lashes. A tear slipped from her eye and her jaw wobbled. She looked vulnerable as hell but something in me still didn’t want to trust her.

  “No one is going to hurt you,” I said, but I didn’t add: I promise. Promises could be broken.

  “And you’ll zap them if anyone ...” But Chyler didn’t get to finish her sentence because just then my front door banged open. I hadn’t locked it like I normally did.

  “Stella?” Gage called to me. I put my finger to my lips and mimed shh to Chyler. I scraped my chair back to get up and flapped my hand behind me as I walked out the room hoping she got the hint to stay back. I pulled the kitchen door so it was closed except for a sliver as I went through to the living room.

  Gage was stood in the centre of the room, his chin raised up and he seemed to be sniffing the air. He started when I approached him. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Thought I heard something,” he murmured, his nostrils flaring slightly as he looked about him.

  I shrugged. “Just me. How’s it going out there?”

  “Okay. The guys are fast workers. You’re house will be looking new in no time.”

  I grinned. “You know this is probably the best loser deal ever?”

  “If you keep making out how great a deal you’re getting, I’ll have to make up something to ensure I really won.” Gage laughed and his eyes creased with laughter lines. There was something captivating about him and I felt my breath catch in my throat, my heart race a few beats faster than normal. He stopped looking around like he was searching for something and instead his eyes narrowed as he focused on me keeping eye contact.

  I breathed shallow breaths and finally, when my heart was under control, I said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  Gage nodded and backed out of the door. “Shout if you need anything.”

  I pushed the door closed after him and went back into the kitchen. Chyler had moved into my vacated seat where she wouldn’t be seen from the other room. “Who’s the hottie?” she asked.

  I raised my eyebrows. “That is my neighbour, Gage.”

  “My neighbours are dorks,” she sighed. “I wish I had neighbours like him.”

  “And that’s probably the last time you’ll see him,” I said, feeling strangely proprietal as I explained. “Seeing as you should stay out of sight. If anyone comes asking, people will only know that I live here alone and that there aren’t any supernatural teens in residence.”

  “So you won’t tell the council that I’m here?”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t like I had a direct line to call up and reporting a missing teen, not that I would anyway given my past dealings with the council. They were largely the source of all my troubles.

  Their last leader Eleanor Bartholomew had been the wife of the head of the witches’ council when she had done her best to kill me. She had failed in that regards, but she had succeeded in killing her own husband, Robert, and had driven my friends’ – Étoile and Seren’s – sister Astra mad in her power hungry struggles. Our elderly housekeeper Meg had taken a hit and as she died, fading in to ashes, I’d found out she was a vampire and over a century old. I still puzzled at the irony that the first vampire I had ever met had turned out to be a sweet old lady rather than a glamorous, brooding hunk. C’est la vie, I thought, then grimaced when I realised, actually, it was more, c’est la morte.

  Meg hadn’t been the only casualty, of course. Jared, Christy and Clara, the other young witches who lived with us, had all died, caught unawares in the conflict. They hadn’t stood a chance. My close friend Kitty had been terribly hurt, part of Eleanor’s warning to me.

  Evan had been hit by a powerful pulse of magic aimed at me when he had pushed me out of the way and taken the whole hit himself. I’d gone to help him as soon as I could, as soon as Eleanor wasn’t a threat anymore. He was still breathing but his blood was doing strange things and he wasn’t able to heal himself thanks to Eleanor’s devilish meddling. I didn’t find out until later when the ‘cleaners’ the remaining council sent had been surveying the scene, that Evan was a daemon. The man I thought I had loved, had concealed a massive secret from me, despite everything. A secret that was as shocking as it was revealing.

  I’d tried to save him and he had been alive when our friends Étoile and Seren came to retrieve him, but they said they weren’t powerful enough to teleport us all and they hadn’t come back for me. It had taken me some time to realise that I was still in shock when I’d ran from the safe house. It had been months now and I hadn’t heard a word from any of them. Even a random teenage witch had managed to find me I thought with a sudden shudder, so why hadn’t they? I didn’t want to accept the possibility that Evan was dead because a part of my heart would die with him.

  I’d been the one who had killed Eleanor, but it was in self defence. I never thought I’d be able to take another life, but when it came down to seeing a person kill and maim your friends them aim for you, it was quite simple. I killed Eleanor Bartholomew and while I couldn’t shake the awful feeling that I had taken life from another being, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. She had done so much damage in her life and killed so often in her pursuit for power. And lust, I reminded myself. It was her lust for my father that had started all this but he loved my mother and she couldn’t accept that.

  Eleanor’s deception went back years. When I was a little girl, Eleanor had killed my mother as I watched and my father hid me with his magic before she could get me too. He rejected her and she murdered him in a fury. She had spent years trying to find me. As the child of two witches, she knew my powers would mature one day and was terrified that I would recognise her and destroy everything she had – her power, her privilege, her status.

  I didn’t remember her, of course, but she made it her mission to track me down and had tried to get rid of me anyway becoming just as dangerous as the witch hunters I’d been saved from. Her husband had gotten in her way of her pursuit of power and she was so afraid of losing her foothold in the hierarchy that she had even spellbound her son, Marc, to stop
even his potential overtaking her. Marc had got his powers back as soon as she died and, even though we’d had somewhat of a falling out, I often wondered how he was getting on with being a later comer to magic, like me. I tried not to blame him at all, even though it was hard, because he had been manipulated too.

  It was imperative after Eleanor died, and everyone was finally safe, that the injured would be taken to be treated, though where I didn’t know. Being unhurt, I was left behind in another witch’s, David’s, care. I waited and I waited. I thought they would come for me but they didn’t. And as I waited, I wasn’t sure that I wanted them to come back, not if Evan was dead. The council had dragged me into this life, put me in the middle of their struggles, and no good had come from it. I’d had it. The shock ensured my reasoning was skewed.

  It was that decision that had led me to Wilding, to my parents’ house and it was here now that I was looking at another girl asking for my help to protect her from the council.

  “I won’t tell the council, but look, Chyler, you found me so there’s no reason why they won’t. They’ll work out where you are and they’ll come looking. You can’t stay here.”

  “I know, but...”

  “No buts. It’s safer if you keep hiding wherever you are.” I tried to stay firm without being unkind. “How can I get in touch with you?”

  Chyler shook her head and her shoulders heaved up and down like she was utterly despondent. I would be too, if I was her. “I’ll get in touch with you,” she said and before I had chance to protest, she’d muttered a few silent words and vanished again leaving me with a massive problem that I had no idea how to deal with.

  I changed back into my clothes, giving myself a fresh spritz of deodorant and body spray, and folded my running gear into a pile on top of the dresser, trying to fathom the whole time what I was supposed to do. I badly needed some help

  Maybe things would look a lot better if I was outside in the crisp fresh air looking at my house getting a fresh coat of paint. That idea felt really good. I walked out the open door through to the living room, not quite prepared for my heart to leap into my throat when I realised again I wasn’t alone.

  I was still for a moment as I watched Gage, stood with his back to me, his head titled upwards. At first I thought he was inspecting the ceiling but then he seemed to sniff the air just like he had been earlier. Slowly, he turned to me, his eyes flickering as though they registered something unseen. His mouth slipped into the easy smile that made my heart flutter then shudder as he breathed in the air in one deep lungful. It was almost like he was tasting it, tasting something on it.

  He looked at me as if he was wondering what my secrets were, but I would never tell.

  Five

  The probable answer to my problem was waiting for me on the porch the next morning, just standing there leaning against the posts that held up the overhanging roof as if she belonged there. Étoile Winterstorm looked like she had all the time in the world. She looked amazing as usual in a short black dress, a blue wool coat open over the top with a white scarf tossed casually around her neck. However, I’d had a poor night’s sleep as I woke up every other hour wondering how I could help Chyler and if she was okay. My morning grouchiness was quashed as soon as I saw her, and replaced with wary delight as I opened the door.

  “Hello, Stella,” she said softly, barely turning her head as I stepped out.

  “Hey.” I smiled tentatively, hanging back a bit until Étoile crossed the small space between us and hugged me warmly. She held the tops of my arms in her hands as she looked at me, a flash of anger briefly crossing her face. “Do you know how long it took me to find you?” she asked.

  “I’m guessing six months,” I replied, somewhat facetiously. “Was it you who left me the package?”

  Étoile nodded. “I thought a peace offering might pave the way before I came to see you.”

  “Well, at least I knew someone was here, though you could have signed the card.”

  “Didn’t I? Oh.” Étoile shrugged and looked out at the garden then across the street. I followed the direction of her eyes and saw Gage tackling weather proofing the furniture on his porch. “Lovely view,” she said to me, then, without missing a beat. “Shall we go inside?”

  “Please come in.” I stepped back inside and held open the door.

  “So you’ve been here this whole time?” she enquired looking around, taking in the plain decor and the dated furniture. “Why here?”

  “It was my parents’ house,” I answered, keeping it short so I didn’t scream at her or shake her, not that it would have done any good. Once my grief had faded, I felt increasingly calm but that calm was threatening to fade fast. I was furious at her... and just as equally delighted to see her.

  “When I came back for you, you had gone. David was in a terrible panic.” Étoile cut a glance at me like she was checking to see if I was paying attention. Her tone was just short of scalding.

  “I waited three days.” My voice came out with a slight upturned edge that was in danger of turning into a whine. We were stood in the centre of the living room, facing each other. I crossed my arms across my chest defensively. “Where were you?”

  “Eleanor’s magic weakened us terribly. Seren and I couldn’t shimmer again after we’d travelled so far while holding on to Evan and we had to recuperate before I could come back and, when I did, you weren’t there.” Étoile enunciated the last words carefully and looked at me pointedly.

  I brushed it off. “What happened?” I said, at last, weakly. I wanted to hear and I didn’t. I wanted to know the truth and I wanted to hide from it. I stared at my toes and steeled myself to finally hear the truth. To finally lay Evan to rest, if that was what it took.

  “It was touch for a few days,” said Étoile. She took a deep breath like she had a lot to say and didn’t want to pause while it poured out. “You saved him you know. Whatever it was you did back there, it healed the major damage, but Evan was still very, very ill. Witches and daemons don’t mix well. Too much negativity in the energy expended, I think.”

  I looked up at her sharply. “Evan’s alive?” I whispered, not quite sure I’d heard her correctly.

  Étoile smiled at me, a broad, happy smile that lifted her whole face. “Of course he is!” she exclaimed, like I had asked the dumbest question ever.

  “What happened? I thought... I thought...” I stammered as my mind raced ahead of me, picking through all the scenarios I’d considered and dismissing them just as fast, puzzling what I should do next. Where was he? Could I get to him? I wanted to go now.

  “He’s not dead,” said Étoile, simply but not unkindly. “He was completely out of it for a month. Eleanor’s magic, and my sister’s, affected him very badly and it took another month after that for him to heal. Do you know how bad that is for a daemon? Healing that long?” Étoile paced away from me, looking back over her shoulder to see if I was taking it in. She paused to look out the window, surveying the view, glancing back at me as she said, “He was lucky you seemed to develop healing powers just at the right moment.”

  I did understand how badly injured Evan must have been to take that long to heal. Sort of. I’d seen a cut heal itself in front of my eyes when Evan had been hurt once, but that was a minor little thing compared to what he had endured the last day I’d seen him. When he’d pushed me out of harm’s way he had taken the brunt of the blast himself.

  “Where is he?” Did he want to see me, I wanted to ask. Did he blame me? Instead I asked next, “Where has he been?”

  “He’s been looking for you for four solid months. We thought something had happened to you. He was ready to kill Astra to find out for certain.” Étoile shuddered. For all the bad her sister had done, Astra had been served a terrible injustice too. Eleanor Bartholomew had used her for her enormous power, drained her and treated her like a disposable puppet. Étoile had rescued her sister and taken her somewhere safe as soon as Eleanor was incapacitated, which was a nice way of saying I’d
killed her. I’d had to, I didn’t have a choice I reminded myself for the umpteenth time. She was insane and violent with it. “But here you are in Nowheresville. Quite fine too, by the looks of you,” continued Étoile. She was wandering around my living room and finally her eyes rested on the two photographs I’d propped up there.

  “I really thought he must have died,” I said at last and let the waterfall course from my tear ducts and over my cheeks until I put my hands over my face and soaked them too. I stood there shuddering and shaking until Étoile guided me to the sofa and made me sit, arms wrapped around me, until I could get a hold on myself. The relief was immense. I felt euphoric. Evan was alive!

  I felt horrible. I’d kissed Gage. Crap. I didn’t know what to feel. I wiped my wet cheeks with the backs of my hands and sniffed in an ungainly way then asked again, “Where is Evan?”

  “Three hours away.”

  “Seriously?” I looked at Étoile with my eyes wide. Three hours between me and Evan. After months of nothing but fading hope.

  “Yes, we were driving here and I thought I’d zap, as you like to say, ahead.” Étoile made it sound like she’d just switched train lines rather than moved herself through space a few hundred miles.

  “Didn’t you stay after you came last time?” Now I was close to her I could read the signature I’d felt a couple of days ago as quite obviously hers. She had done nothing to disguise it, I realised. She had meant for me to know.

  “I stayed long enough to drop off my gift. Then I went back to tell everyone that you were fine.”

  “How did you know I was fine?”

  “I saw you heading out with that hunk of yum across the road. Nice outfit, by the way. Was it a date?” Étoile asked casually but I could see her watching me from the corners of her eyes, waiting to see what I would say.