The Library, the Witch, and the Warder

by Mindy Klasky

  He should only have worried about her studies. Jane took easily to natrolite, with its powers of psychic protection. Her powers melded seamlessly around bloodstone’s purification, its grounding of negative energy. And if she had to work a little harder with chalcedony, that was no great surprise. The stone stimulated maternal instinct. By her own admission, she hadn’t had a strong role model in that arena—at least not from her actual mother.

  They took a break on Saturday. Jane said she had to attend the Harvest Gala, some sort of fundraiser for an opera organization her grandmother supported. She returned to her studies more than a little distracted.

  Once or twice each session, she completely lost her concentration. She forgot which emotion she was supposed to channel through which stones. She fumbled connections she’d previously made. But with a nudge from Neko, she always got back on track.

  Until Wednesday.

  She’d been in her hoop skirts when he arrived that night, and she took so long to change that he almost sent Neko in to help. The entire time she ate her dinner—cheese, crackers, and an apple, because she didn’t have anything else in the house—she cast a longing eye toward the fish-decorated pitcher on her counter.

  “That’s for mojitos!” Neko helpfully pointed out, when he caught David following her gaze.

  “Not tonight, it isn’t,” he answered, keeping his voice even.

  He wanted to stretch their session that night and introduce her to half a dozen new crystals. He was already feeling anxious that they’d miss their weekend training. Jane was heading up to Connecticut for some family reunion.

  Family. The descendants of Abigail Somerset.

  He wanted to go with her. He wanted to see the farm that had been in her family for generations. All those witches had avoided formal education, membership in a coven, and traditional trappings of any kind, but there had to be remnants of power throughout the property.

  David hadn’t been invited, though. Jane was taking that damned professor instead. What did Neko call him? Her Imaginary Boyfriend. Well, given Jane’s level of distraction, she was clearly planning on moving the exploitative jerk from the “Imaginary” category to “Real.”

  David didn’t care who Jane took to bed. Really. He didn’t. He just wanted her to focus on their last night of training before her road trip.

  But trouble began as soon as he set a chunk of pink fluorite in the center of the coffee table. The stone was known to provide a strong focal point for arcane meditation. As soon as Jane grew accustomed to the crystal’s feel, he’d add a candle and ask her to work the simple kindling spell she’d already mastered. She’d be astonished by the brilliant light she created.

  Her first attempt ended when she got a cramp in her foot. She stood up to walk it off, laughing nervously before settling back on the hunter green couch.

  Her second attempt was derailed when her phone buzzed with a message. “Sorry,” she said. “I thought I’d turned that off.” But she stared at the device longingly, and it took her even longer to return to the coffee table.

  She’d barely started her third attempt when she jumped up from the overstuffed cushions. “It’s cold in here,” she said. “Are you cold? Neko? Don’t you want me to turn up the heat?”

  “Jane, you’re just not concentrating.”

  “I’m trying!”

  “No, you’re not.” He shifted the fluorite closer to her.

  She glared at the stone. “Maybe my strength isn’t really with crystals.”

  “Your mother’s seems to be,” he said in a perfectly reasonable tone.

  Neko had the good sense to cringe. Sure enough, Jane’s words dripped with acid. “And if Clara had bothered to train me, then maybe all this witchcraft stuff wouldn’t be so hard to pick up now. Maybe I’d be ready for a teacher, if a decent one could be found around here.”

  Neko winced and sidled toward the kitchen. “Perhaps if I made you both a cup of tea…”

  David snapped, “We don’t need tea. What we need is a bit less self-pity and a lot more concentration.”

  “It seems to me that at least one of us needs a nap,” Neko said archly. “Awfully cranky tonight, aren’t we?” He retreated into the kitchen before either of them could ask who was supposed to be tired.

  Jane leaned back, exhaling sharply before she closed her eyes. He could see the weariness in her face, in every line of her body. He wondered if he was pushing her too hard. He’d never trained a witch before. And he had to admit he had his own agenda: he wanted Jane confident enough in her powers by Samhain that Hecate had to recognize the worthiness of his service.

  “Neko,” Jane called into the kitchen, her voice creaking with fatigue. “A cup of tea would be wonderful.”

  As David heard the kettle hit the side of the sink, he felt guilty for pushing Jane so hard, but he tried to explain how their sessions were really to her own advantage. “I’m not supposed to be your teacher. I’m here to protect you. To keep you safe.”

  She didn’t even open her eyes. “Fine, then. Don’t teach me anymore.”

  That attitude was never going to impress Hecate. But he fought his own fatigue and pressed her, nevertheless. “You don’t understand.”

  “Explain it to me, then.” She struggled to sit upright. “Tell me what I’m missing. Why is this so important? There are about a hundred other things I’d rather be doing, you know. I was supposed to be at yoga tonight with Melissa. And I should be packing for the weekend. I leave Friday morning.”

  Leaving with Jason Templeton. That’s what her reluctance was really all about. He didn’t bother to soften his disapproving tone. “I know.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I shouldn’t go to my family reunion?”

  “I don’t have anything against your family.” He laid his answer out precisely, giving just the faintest emphasis to the last word.

  Before Jane could challenge him on that pronouncement, Neko slunk in from the kitchen, carrying a tea tray laden with the largest cream pitcher David had ever seen. The familiar poured for all of them, giving himself a single dash of tea in a mug otherwise filled with cream. After taking a delicate sip of his concoction, Neko pursed his lips and asked, “Are we having fun yet?”

  “I’ll be having fun Friday afternoon,” Jane said. “When I’m in Connecticut.” She crossed her arms over her chest like a defiant teen.

  David sighed in exasperation, returning his mug to the table. “You know, we don’t have to do this, Jane. You can just hand over all the books downstairs. Let the Washington Coven take charge, and you won’t have to worry about them any more. The crystals, too. The coven would be thrilled to have the entire collection.”

  Neko slammed his own mug down. “Stunning advice,” he hissed.

  David kept his gaze on Jane as he answered the familiar with mock patience. “It’s not ‘advice’, Neko. It’s merely a statement of fact. The coven hasn’t interfered so far because I’ve convinced them a valid witch has possession of the materials downstairs.”

  Well, that was almost true. He’d told Linda as much, certain she’d carry the message back to Teresa Alison Sidney.

  His shaving the truth made him defensive, and he leaked a little more aggression into his tone. “But they’re definitely getting curious about the situation. They want to meet Jane, and I can’t put them off forever.”

  “Dammit, David! I never asked you to!” She looked surprised by her own outburst. “All I want is to be left alone until after my family reunion. Is that so much? The books were missing for decades. Can’t I take one more weekend, for myself?”

  He knew he was pushing too hard because Samhain loomed less than a fortnight away. His entire future rode on convincing Hecate he was worthy. But Jane was a witch, and he was—at least until Samhain—a warder, so he sighed and said, “You can take one more weekend.”

  She gloated behind her mug of tea. As she swallowed, though, she cast a quick look at Neko, who was still glaring daggers acro
ss the table. With dawning concern, she asked, “David?”

  “What?” He didn’t bother to disguise his annoyance—with himself, with her, with the entire situation.

  “If I did give back the books, what would happen to Neko?”

  For the first time since Jane discovered the Osgood collection, David felt sorry for the familiar. He’d had no say when Hannah Osgood broke their bond and linked him to the objects in the basement. When David finally answered, his voice was soft. “He goes with the materials. He’s part of the collection.”

  “He’s not my familiar?”

  He couldn’t believe she didn’t know that. Neko had made the situation clear to David the first time they spoke. But David had known enough to ask the right questions. Jane hadn’t understood a thing about what happened that day.

  David said, “He’s yours as long as you have the collection. But if you reject the collection, he’ll go with it to the next witch who has the power to transform him.”

  Jane looked at Neko, but the familiar wouldn’t meet her eyes. After a long pause, she sighed. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll make a serious effort with my witchcraft after I get back from the Farm. But I really don’t have any choice about this weekend. I promised Gran.”

  “And Jason,” Neko added.

  David couldn’t read the familiar’s tone—whether he was truly trying to be helpful, or if he was turning a little blade for spite. But he felt his own spine grow stiff with dislike.

  “What?” Jane shouted at him. “What can you possibly have against Jason Templeton?”

  David eyed her coolly. “Do you really want an answer to that question?

  “Yes! I am sick and tired of your coming in here and posturing every time his name comes up. This isn’t some kind of contest between the two of you. Jason Templeton has nothing to do with you, Scott!”

  The fact that she called him by another man’s name struck like a physical blow. He had no idea who Scott was, but from Jane’s shattered expression the man had hurt her badly. She was clearly mortified by her mistake, or maybe by her entire tirade.

  He wanted to say something. He wanted to tell her he wasn’t like Scott, or Jason either, for that matter. He wanted to assure her he was only there to serve her, to be her bonded warder come Samhain and beyond, if only Hecate found him worthy. But the silence grew between them, metastasizing into something ugly and broken.

  In the end, Neko spoke first. “Well now. Isn’t this uncomfortable?”

  “Shut up, Neko,” Jane said. Her chagrined command gave David the opportunity to school his face to impassivity before she turned to him. “Seriously,” she said. “Jason has nothing to do with you. He is completely separate from your world. From witchcraft. From warding.”

  “My job is to keep you safe,” he said flatly.

  “And how can Jason possibly be a threat? Do you think he’s going to arrive at the Farm with a stake, or a silver bullet or, or, I don’t know, whatever kills witches?”

  “Of course not.” He had to remove emotion from his reply, scrubbing away any hint of feeling lest she shut him out forever.

  “Is he a threat to my powers? Do you think he’ll suddenly decide to burn the books downstairs? Steal my crystals? Stab Neko?”

  “I have no reason to think that he will.” He sounded like a robot, even to himself.

  “So maybe he’ll sell the Osgood collection to the highest bidder on some sort of magic black market?”

  “No.”

  She was trembling as she climbed to her feet and gestured toward the door. “Then I think we’re through with this conversation.”

  He didn’t want to be through. He wanted to tell her about Hecate, about Samhain, about all the ways he could and should and would serve her.

  But that wasn’t fair. Jane wasn’t some wind-up toy he could take out of a box and march off the edge of a table. She was a free and independent witch—even if she was pining after her Imaginary Boyfriend or still longing for Scott, whoever the hell that was.

  David didn’t have a right to use her for his own Samhain scheme.

  He put his mug on the table and brushed his hands down the front of his pants, as if he’d collected cookie crumbs by mistake. He looked at Neko, wondering if there was any way to make the familiar understand, to help redeem this absolute disaster. But the creature stared back without blinking, his eyes as cold and distant as a cat’s.

  “Very well,” David said. “No more training.”

  She waited a beat before she made an attempt at clarification: “Until I get back from the Farm.”

  “No.” He’d ruined everything, and this was the only honorable thing to do. “No more training from me at all.”

  He held out his hand, because that seemed polite. She stared at it, not offering her own.

  “You’re kidding, right?” she said. “You want me to think about what you’ve told me tonight. You want me to realize I need you, and then get back to witch school like a good little student. Right?”

  He wanted all those things, more than he could say. But he didn’t have the right to ask them of her.

  She tried again. “So, you want me to apologize? Is that it? I’m sorry, and I want you to be my teacher again?”

  He heard the emotion scrabbling in her voice. He was hurting her, even when he tried to do what was right. He had to stop. Now. “Not at all,” he said. “I want you to be content in your life. I want you to know who you are and what you are. I want you to be balanced, so you can find all your natural power and strength. Jane, I want you to be happy.”

  “And your walking out of here tonight is going to make me happy?”

  “In the short term,” he said. His throat was so dry he couldn’t swallow.

  “And in the long term?”

  “In the long term, the coven will take care of you. They’ll place you in a magicarium. Maybe find you a proper tutor, someone used to teaching witches. You don’t need to be afraid; they’ll be fair. They won’t test you until you say you’re ready.”

  He had to make it seem reasonable. Sane. Normal. Because every word he said was the truth. It’s what he should have told her from the moment they met—would have told her if he hadn’t been focused on his own Samhain scheme. But she asked, “And if I can’t learn from the coven’s teacher? If I’m never ready?”

  “They’ll take back the books.”

  “And Neko?”

  He nodded, not daring to look at the familiar. “And Neko.”

  Her throat worked. He had to get out of there, now, before he registered that he was voluntarily walking away from warding forever. From the safety of the doorway, he said, “Enjoy the Farm, Jane. But be careful. And apply yourself when you come back here. Work with your teacher.”

  He reached for home the instant he shut the door.

  38

  The ache was still there in the morning, clawing at his sleep-starved brain like a rat in a maze. He would never prove himself to Hecate by Samhain. In less than two weeks, he’d be cast out as a warder forever.

  Breaking the magical bond was his fault—he’d pushed Jane too hard, too far. But Norville Pitt had stolen away the safety net that was available to every other warder in the Empire. Pitt had made it impossible for David to work at the court.

  The toad must have decided to destroy David three years ago, that first week, after that first memo where David pointed out the accidental double billing for the Atlanta centerstone.

  And the worst part was, Pitt could do it again. He could eviscerate any other warder who came under his control.

  What would happen when Kyle Hopp washed out? Even if the kid actually graduated from the Academy, he wasn’t likely to match with a witch, not for any meaningful period of time. He’d end up working for the court for the rest of his life. That should be an honorable course, a valid way to serve the goddess.

  But Pitt would eat Kyle alive.

  No warder should be subjected to that.

  David owed it to Hecate herse
lf to bring Pitt down.

  He opened his computer and started his last warding mission ever: Destroying Norville Pitt.

  39

  As the sun rose over Parkersville’s Main Street, David stood beside a public trashcan, balancing a computer thumb drive on the palm of his hand.

  He’d spent the night creating dozens of false documents. The first one had been the most difficult. He’d called up a blank Request for Protection form, the template he’d kept on his home computer to complete long hours of overtime. He’d hesitated for almost an hour before typing Pitt’s name into the appropriate blank. It had taken him another fifteen minutes to add a description of the artifact requiring protection—a magnificent specimen of chrysolite that Pitt kept locked in a display case in his office.

  The yellow-green crystal was known to bolster fame and self-importance. It made Pitt an easy target. Having finally chosen his weapon, David lost no time recording the stone’s identifying characteristics, its provenance, and its supposed last known location.

  He only hesitated when he got to the last blank. This was it. His chance to bring Pitt down for good.

  David was lying. He knew that. He wasn’t being noble. He wasn’t being heroic.

  But Pitt had lied every single day he worked for the court. He’d hectored David, hobbling him and keeping him from offering true service to every witch in the Eastern Empire. If Pitt wasn’t stopped now, he’d destroy the court and everything it stood for.

  David tapped a single key, falsifying a date stamp.

  The rest of the forms were easier. He planted false correspondence, showing Pitt’s willingness to procure arcane treasures for a shadowy Russian counterpart. He created the illusion that Pitt had taken bribes to channel a contract for the construction of the Charlotte Coven’s recent safehold.

  He couldn’t plant his documents inside the court’s computer system. He’d been locked out of that the moment Pitt fired him. But he could send his manufactured evidence to every one of the judges on the court. It was easy enough to create a fake email account.