Harley Merlin and the Secret Coven

by Bella Forrest

  Ugh, the platinum hair and piercing blue eyes didn’t work too well with that sneer on Finch’s face. He irked me to unexpectedly high levels. “How old are you, Finch?” I asked him, as innocently as possible.

  “What business is that of yours?” he shot back, scowling at me. I had a feeling he just didn’t like new people, in general.

  Why the hate, though? What did I ever do to this boy?

  “Because you sound like a whiny five-year-old who doesn’t like his new kindergarten, and you’re starting to get on my nerves,” I spat. “I thought this was a coven, not the Kid City next door.”

  I heard chuckling around me and from the crowd below, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off Finch. He looked as though he was about to do something stupid, and I never looked away from an aggressive fiend. He reminded me too much of the foster dad whose name I chose to forget—the root of many nightmares and the reason behind some of the scars on my back.

  “Sounds like Finch just found another witch who won’t put up with his nonsense.” Garrett chuckled, putting his arm over Finch’s shoulders.

  “I suggest you and Wade take your teams elsewhere, and start planning your missions,” Alton replied to Garrett. “Play nice and report back to me by the end of the day. You’ve got the rest of the afternoon to work out your roles and responsibilities. Preceptor Nomura and Tobe will answer any questions you might have. Magicals, dismissed!”

  The crowd instantly scattered out of the Main Assembly Hall, while Garrett took Finch and the rest of his team off the podium. “Come on, let’s go get our ducks in a row. Need to get those fifty points back, and more on top!” Garrett said, then glanced over his shoulder and gave me another wink.

  Seriously, is he flirting or what?

  One by one, the plethora of foreign emotions fizzled out of me, and my new team came into full focus. Wade was frustrated with the cleanup job but satisfied with his choice of team members—until his gaze found mine. He wasn’t too sure about me yet, but hey, I had to give him the benefit of the doubt, since he didn’t know me at all. Frankly, I wasn’t sure how useful I’d be in this place, but I had to at least try and find out.

  Santana and Tatyana seemed slightly amused. I had a feeling they’d been through similar gigs before, which made them interesting to follow, going forward. Dylan was stuck in limbo, somewhere between longing and excited, probably still adjusting to life as a magical. Raffe was thankful, mostly to have Wade by his side. And Astrid was psyched and eager to get started.

  Alton was worried, on the other hand. The Council’s visit had taken its toll on him, and I could literally feel how much was at stake—Alton was terrified of failure of any kind. It made his blood run cold, and, by the rules of Empathic proximity, mine too.

  But what was I really feeling in that moment? If I peeled away at the layers of emotions from the magicals that I’d surrounded myself with, what did I think of all this?

  Well, for starters, there was a little voice in the back of my head, telling me that things were about to get even weirder, though I wasn’t exactly sure how or why. But my instincts never betrayed me, and I was never short on ominous feelings.

  I was embarking on a new journey, with people I barely knew but with whom I shared a primordial bond of Chaos. It was strange and scary, but it also gave me some much-needed perspective on who I was and, most importantly, who I wanted to be.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I can’t believe they’re making me quit my job,” I complained, as I filled out an application form for a research assistant position in the Fleet Science Center’s Library and Archives section.

  Shortly after the Main Assembly Hall had been cleared, Wade and the rest of our newly formed Rag Team—a term which we all seemed to hate and love at the same time—had accompanied me to one of the common rooms of the coven.

  Santana and Tatyana had raided the small cafeteria for a variety of hot drinks and snacks, while Raffe and Astrid were getting to know Dylan a little better. Wade was sitting next to me at the table, carefully checking the information I put into the employment form. There was still tension between us, mostly because of his strong dislike regarding my Empath ability, but there was nothing I could do about that. Sooner or later, he was going to get used to it. What did he have to hide, anyway? I already knew that I was getting on his nerves—it didn’t take an Empath to see that.

  “It pays better, and you don’t have to hang around all those undesirables,” Wade replied, pointing at a box that required my date of birth. I didn’t have a real birthday, just an approximate, almost randomly chosen day and month of the year when I was dropped off at the orphanage. “Fill that in.”

  “Only if you people promise not to get me any sappy cards for that date,” I grumbled. “It’s not my real birthday, and I don’t celebrate it, anyway.”

  “Why not?” Santana asked, sitting across the table and pushing a freshly brewed coffee my way.

  “Thanks.” I retrieved the paper cup, blowing over the hot black liquid before the first sip. I could almost feel the energy flowing through me. “I don’t know my exact date of birth, just that I was about three years old when I was left at the orphanage.”

  I said it rather matter-of-factly, which didn’t surprise me. I’d gotten used to the idea a long, long time ago. My Rag Team, however, was nonplussed, judging by the way they looked at me. Then came pity, and I instantly hated that feeling. I hated feeling pity, especially when I knew it was directed at me.

  “You’re an orphan,” Dylan said. He was the only one who didn’t feel sorry for me. Instead, I got a whiff of understanding from him. It was a rare reaction. Most people didn’t like being aware of the hardships of others. They didn’t even look at the homeless veterans they passed on the street, as if they couldn’t handle someone else’s misery. I didn’t get that luxury. I felt everything. “So, you were in the foster system?” he asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  Dylan smiled. “Me too.” The idea of a kindred spirit came back, twice as loud. I couldn’t help but beam at him. There were plenty of us foster kids in the San Diego area, but we had a tendency to avoid one another. Most of the kids in the system didn’t turn out as well as I had. Most of them never got a family like the Smiths to guide them into adulthood, so they slipped through the cracks. Dylan looked like another fortunate exception, with his crew cut and crisp varsity jacket.

  “Seriously? I want to say, ‘That’s so cool,’ but we both know it isn’t.” I chuckled, and he laughed out loud. He was so bright and jovial, so genuine and just plain nice.

  “It’s okay, it kind of makes sense in this place,” Dylan replied, while Wade watched our exchange with a slight frown. “It’s why we’re ‘late bloomers,’ as they call us here. We got lost in the foster system and we didn’t have anyone to teach us about what we are.”

  “Most of us magicals join the coven at a very young age,” Santana explained. “But people like you, Dylan, and others don’t get that lucky. Nevertheless, better late than never, I say!”

  “What about you?” I asked Astrid. “How’d you end up in the coven, as a human?”

  “Oh, that’s a bit of a long story,” she said. “I’m useful, and I do a lot of work on the IT side. You know, the usual. Encryption, security, surveillance, and good ol’ fashioned hacking, mostly. There’s only so much that magic can do in a human world dominated by technology.”

  “Plus, she’s our only zombie,” Santana said, grinning.

  “Seriously, as if this conversation wasn’t complicated enough, we’re bringing zombies in, too?” I said, confused.

  “What she means is that I’ve been through a couple of rough patches on field missions,” Astrid replied, a blush coloring her cheeks. “Hence Alton allowed me to go with you guys, on the Rag Team. He wants to avoid another… incident.”

  “Define ‘incident,’” I replied.

  “I died,” Astrid said bluntly, and it took me a couple of seconds to fully register that little morsel of
weird. “Three times, to be precise. Alton brought me back, but the price he paid was… awful.”

  “Huh?”

  “Alton’s a rare type of magical,” Wade added. “He’s a Necromancer. One of five in existence.”

  “He brings people back to life?” I said, utterly shocked.

  “It’s not as easy as it sounds,” he replied. “It’s not easy at all. Certain conditions have to be met for a resurrection to occur. The body needs to be in good condition. Any resurrection performed after twenty-four hours will result in a literal, mindless zombie, because the brain decays fast, and the neural pathways start glitching like crazy. On top of that, it takes a massive toll on Alton. After a single resurrection, he goes into an automatic Purge, the worst and most painful kind, that might even kill him. The monsters that came out of him are some of the scariest things I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve toured the entire Bestiary. Necromancy is never a solution to death, nor is it portrayed as such.”

  “It’s kind of sad, actually.” Astrid sighed. “Having that power and not being able to use it. I mean, he could, but the coven obviously has rules about that. The only reason he resurrected me is because I died while helping the coven.”

  “And you can’t keep doing that. It’s taking a toll on him, in the long term, too,” Wade said.

  I nodded slowly, before Wade gave me a blunt nudge, pointing at the form. “Come on, fill that out so we can work out your schedule next.”

  “Look at you, all stern and serious, like a mentor.” Santana grinned. “I guess you’re eyeing Alton’s position and you’ve started early prep work, huh?”

  Wade shook his head. “I found her, so she’s kind of my responsibility. At least until she gets her induction. Then she’s on her own.”

  “We both know that’s not true, Wade,” I replied with a smirk. He was worried about me—it was an underlying feeling that I could’ve missed, had I not paid extra attention. He was an interesting bundle of emotions, from what I’d gathered so far. I frustrated the hell out of him, and yet, he couldn’t stay away. And the fact that I could read him made him extra nervous. I was going to burn in hell for how much I was enjoying that state of mind.

  “Whatever you think you’re reading, you’re wrong,” he shot back. “You can barely hold it together in a crowd, so I doubt you’re that good at this whole Empath nonsense.”

  “Holy crap, you’re an Empath?” Tatyana gasped, and I could almost feel her closing off—or elegantly trying, anyway.

  I was already exhausted, and knowing that the more they tried to hide from me the louder their emotions blared through me, I let out a heavy sigh and decided to address the problem. “Listen, yeah, I’m an Empath. I feel you all, and the more you try to keep stuff from me, the heavier I feel it. I strongly recommend that you all just relax when I’m around. I won’t tell anyone what I’m experiencing, unless asked, and only if it’s for a good cause. I’m not comfortable with it either, and I’m still learning to keep it under control, but today has been kind of crazy and my control buttons are all… glitchy. Just don’t worry about me feeling you. I can. And that’s cool. I won’t judge, I promise. Chances are I won’t even pay attention,” I said in one long breath, then turned to look at Wade. “As for you, Mr. High and Mighty, my sensors are quite attuned after all these years, so yeah, I know exactly what you’re going through whenever you’re around me. We both know that I annoy you, and that I make you uncomfortable. And that’s cool. I like making you uncomfortable.”

  I ended my statement with a grin. Raffe stifled a chuckle, then pretended to drink from his coffee mug when he noticed my gaze shifting to him. He was a peculiar creature indeed, and I had a hard time putting my finger on what was off, exactly.

  “What’s up with you? What’s your story?” I asked him.

  He blinked, as if taken by surprise without his pocket notes handy for quick answers. “What… Um, what do you mean?”

  “Why are you here? I hear your dad’s the big kahuna in the Council, and this is a coven of Mediocres and jaded rejects,” I replied, giving Wade an intentional sideways glance—instantly feeling his wrath boiling through my veins. My inner devil giggled. “So, how’d you end up here?”

  Raffe was a little worried, choosing his words carefully. Anxiety was creeping up, too, along with what sounded like maniacal laughter in the back of my head. This was all kinds of weird, and I was fascinated.

  “Can we just call it ‘difference of opinions’ when referring to why I got transferred here?” he replied with an impish smile.

  “That doesn’t clear anything up,” I said.

  “What you need to do is fill out the damn form, so I can pass it to HR by the end of the day,” Wade interjected.

  I gave him a brief scowl, then continued writing my bogus birthday into one of the boxes, followed by my current address and social security number.

  “My dad and I don’t get along,” Raffe conceded. “At all. He’s a very powerful warlock, and everybody looks up to him. Some even fear him. I’m very different from the rest of my family. That’s pretty much the whole gist. And they’re all traditionalists, while I’m more of a… liberal.”

  “Yeah, I get the whole different-from-the-rest-of-the-family part,” Dylan said. “My mom thought I was going to take up a football scholarship at Yale. Instead I’m here, and I’m signed up for community college so I can stay close to the coven.”

  “Why didn’t you go to Yale?” I replied. “Surely there’s a coven in New Haven.”

  “I thought about it. Thing is, my magical abilities have a lot to do with my athleticism,” Dylan said, his shoulders dropping. “I’m what they call a Herculean. And the New Haven coven is currently under investigation. The last thing they needed was a raw, late-blooming magical who was bound to stand out on the Yale football team, and not in a good way.”

  “A raw magical is kind of like letting a wildfire loose,” Tatyana explained. “Dylan needs constant monitoring in the first year as a coven magical, mainly because he’s just found his Esprit and he has to learn to control it. Right now, he’s like a nuclear warhead, without any safety measures. One wrong nudge, and boom, all of New Haven will witness one hell of a… football game.”

  I frowned. “I thought the Esprit was meant to control one’s power, not make it worse.”

  “It does. Once you get used to it. And that takes time and practice,” Dylan replied. “Trust me, I know!”

  “What’s your Esprit?” I asked.

  Dylan showed me his high school graduation ring, cast in silver, with a football encrusted in mother of pearl against a black enamel backdrop, and smiled. “I love football, and I got this from my coach when I graduated high school. It means the world to me. It reminds me of what my life could’ve been, had I been born a human.”

  “You don’t sound too excited to be a warlock,” I said.

  “Honestly, I’m not.” He sighed. “But it’s kind of growing on me. I’m in an adjustment period, I guess. They want me to spend less time with my college buddies, but that’s not going to happen. Those are my boys.”

  I had a feeling he’d spent his whole life pushing his magical abilities back, fighting his nature with everything he had, until one day he went, like Tatyana had so eloquently put it, “boom,” and was detected by the San Diego Coven. My mojo had come in gradually. I’d already had my adjustment period, and I’d never denied my true nature. I hadn’t embraced it, but I’d learned to make good use of whatever I could, to navigate my existence in the “normal world.”

  “Have you found your Esprit yet?” Santana asked me, apparently uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed. No one seemed to like hearing Dylan’s longing for his human life. Their magical existence was a reason for pride, and they loved it, while Dylan was still struggling with the whole concept.

  “Nope,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll find it,” Santana replied, and showed me hers. It was a keychain shaped like a
guitar, with intricate and colorful detailing engraved around a Mexican sugar skull in the middle. “I found this in a small souvenir shop in Catemaco, my hometown back in Mexico, two years ago. We just clicked. The moment I touched it, I knew.”

  Tatyana then showed me hers, a beautiful sterling silver bracelet with a single, round sapphire. Its crystalline blue was almost hypnotizing. “My mother gave this to me when I turned fourteen. It’s one of the few good things I ever got from the Vasilis clan.”

  There was sadness in her voice, uncharacteristic of her otherwise icy demeanor, and I could feel it deep in the pit of my stomach. Wade noticed my expression, but didn’t bother to fill in any blanks, like before. Instead, he pointed at the form.

  “Finish that.”

  “I hate you,” I replied dryly.

  “I’m not here to be liked.”

  “Then why are you here?” I retorted.

  “He’s one of the best warlocks in this city, and probably the whole state of California,” Astrid said, beaming at me. “He’s not the most likable character in this coven, but his heart’s in the right place and he’s less of a jerk than, say, Garrett and his evil sidekick, Finch.”

  They all chuckled, and even Wade allowed himself a half-smile in response to Astrid’s attempt at a compliment. I liked her. She was sweet but blunt. Like a sugar-coated hammer.

  “What’s up with Garrett, by the way? I can’t read him. I can’t read Finch, either. And a few other people in this place. I don’t usually get that,” I said, then looked up at Wade.

  He didn’t have an answer, and neither did the others. All I got in return were heads slowly shaking and mild shrugs. Raffe seemed interested, though. “Have you tried feeling them? Like, reach out, instead of letting their emotions come to you?”

  “That’s not how Empathy works.” I pursed my lips. “I don’t have to try anything. I automatically feel them. The only thing I need to work on is blocking certain or all emotions. I’m like a cellphone tower. Whatever signal comes out, I catch it.”