Witch of All Witches: Tales of Xest #4

by Donna Augustine

  “I know that things have been different, but that doesn’t mean you can always handle things.”

  He leaned closer still. He stared in that way that made me feel like not only could he read my mind, but hear the rapid beating of my heart, which only seemed to join the races when he was there.

  I attempted to hold his stare and, at the same time, not look at his lips. That was hard, considering they might be the most perfect shape ever created, with enough fullness to look soft, but not so full that they clashed with the hard angles of his face. Sometimes all I had to do was look at him and I went breathless. If he wasn’t so basely carnal, being close wouldn’t be an issue.

  “You’ll have to trust that I can handle myself,” I said, before clearing my throat, trying to rid it of the raspy sound that had nothing to do with him.

  That day on the hill, when I’d sapped nearly every ounce of magic I had to trap Dread, something weird happened. When I was thrown off, I’d gotten a little surge on my way out, a gift of sorts to keep me going so that I could survive the ordeal and live to fight another day.

  Something had shifted in me, and I couldn’t quite say what or how, but I felt it. Magic was a very personal thing, and everyone had their own recipe of sorts, their own taste. If I’d been banana bread before the hill, now I was spicy banana bread with walnuts. Still a dessert, and by all definitions the same dessert, as long as you looked past the kick of spice and the extra crunch. Somehow, nearly dying on that hill had made me more. More of what exactly was yet to be determined.

  He dipped his head closer, and I looked down, afraid of what I might do if he pressed me farther.

  “You had no idea what they wanted when they followed you, and you went into that alley anyway. Yet you keep trying to dodge me? I’d start to wonder why you didn’t want me, except that I can feel your reaction when I touch you.” He ran his hand along the column of my neck.

  That beginning tingle of worry that this was about to go exactly where I’d been avoiding turned into a blaring alarm. I was about to jump on top of him if I didn’t throw a wrench into the situation, pronto.

  “Actually, I’m glad we have a moment. I think Mertie is onto something. I’m going to call Xazier for a meeting.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He straightened, dropping his hand.

  His jaw shifted, and I knew I’d achieved my target. His heat had turned from passion into pure anger. Now he only wanted to kill someone. I’d done a good job, since he probably wouldn’t kill me, and even if he did, it would be an easier death than a slow one from the emotional devastation he might reap.

  I was about to slink away when he said, “Oh no, I’m not letting you use that trick again.”

  Oh shit. He’d caught on to that trick?

  He grabbed my waist and hoisted me onto the counter in front of him, where I was forced to look at him.

  “Why is it that you can lure a group of witches that might want to kill you into an alley but you run from me like I’m the one who might hurt you?”

  Now that was a good question. Why did I? Was it because I’d already started falling for this man more than once and gotten burned? No one liked a burned banana loaf, all bitter with an ashy aftertaste, especially not me.

  Maybe it was because I was so unsure of who I was that it was hard to know how I fit with anyone else. Or if I did let this escalate, to whatever that place might be, who would I end up being? I didn’t even know which question needed answering—or maybe it was all of them. What was blazingly obvious was that every time he managed to nail me down to one spot, the way he was now, there was an overwhelming surge of feelings that I couldn’t begin to sort out.

  He shifted his hands from my waist to my hips, squeezing slightly. I didn’t think he realized what he was doing, but every part of me sang in awareness.

  “I’m not using any tricks and I’m not avoiding you. I thought we were going to be more open and discuss things? Isn’t that the talk we had?”

  Had we had that talk? It sounded familiar, but he had this sneaky way of distracting me with carnal thoughts while he was discussing other matters.

  “The only reason you decided to discuss it with me was because you needed a way to deflect.”

  As much as Hawk’s intelligence drew me to him, it simultaneously made me want to wrap my hands around his neck and choke the life out of him. That was unlikely to happen, as I couldn’t even muster up the strength to walk away from him if I wanted, evidenced by me now sitting in front of him on the counter and not putting up a fight. When he was close, I was a jumbled-up mass of emotions, not knowing which way I wanted to turn.

  He shifted his hands to my legs, the ones he’d stepped in between. Did he realize his palms were splayed on the tops of my thighs? That they were inching up slowly and I was painfully aware of every tiny move they made?

  “Are you feeling okay? Your breathing sounds a little erratic.”

  “I’m fine.” My breathiness was back twofold.

  The back door opened, drawing both our gazes as Oscar walked in. He took one look at us and rolled his eyes. If he found it unsettling, it wasn’t enough for him to leave. No, he headed for the couch instead.

  Hawk met Oscar’s stare. Oscar shrugged and then gave a slight nod.

  Clearly something was afoot here, and I was out of the loop. On a normal day, I might care. On this day, in this moment, being on the outside of this circle was a godsend.

  “Looks like you have other business to attend to,” I said, hopping off the counter.

  “Oh yes, he does,” Oscar added from across the room while he grabbed a handful of Bertha’s sprinkled rounds and tossed them in his mouth one after another. Oscar was like watching a ten-year-old, always seeking out amusement of some sort and usually finding it.

  “We will be finishing this,” Hawk said.

  I knew he wasn’t talking about the discussion.

  5

  “Do you love it? I just had to have it.”

  Bibbi spun around, her face lighting up as the skirt of her new dress swirled.

  As I watched her, it hit home how I’d never been that girl. Never, not even as a child. I’d gone from terrified and hiding, to running, to what I was now. And what I was now? It was miles away from who Bibbi was. A streak of red-hot jealousy bit me in the ass. I wondered what it would feel like to get joy from something as simple as a new skirt twirling in the breeze.

  Two Middling witches from around town passed us, looking down their noses at Bibbi’s antics, as if they were so above such a simple act of pleasure. As if they weren’t as jealous as I was over being able to get joy out of something as simple as a pretty dress.

  They continued on their way, keeping their distance.

  “What’s wrong? Why do you have that face?” Bibbi asked, looking up from her skirt.

  “No reason. I thought I recognized one of them from the factory, but I don’t think it was who I thought.”

  I watched as they continued away from us. One of them took a last glance over her shoulder at Bibbi, who was back to half twirls.

  The Middling witch said something to her friend, who threw her head back and laughed. Assholes. I wished they’d hit a patch of ice and fall on their asses. See how funny that was.

  Oh no. I hadn’t just thought that. Nooooo!

  It was okay. I didn’t hear any screams. Nothing had happened. It was good.

  Bibbi stopped twirling. “Why do you look like you just swallowed an egg or something? Did you know those witches?”

  “My stomach felt weird for a minute. It had nothing to do with them.” I waved my hand as if to shoo the idea away, refusing to turn around and look at them again.

  A yelp was followed immediately by another.

  Oh no. Not again. It hadn’t been a full flick of the wrist, and I hadn’t even waved at them.

  There were more yelps, and they had Bibbi’s full attention.

  “What’s wrong with them? It’s like they don’t know
how to use their feet or something,” Bibbi said.

  As much as I didn’t want to look, I had to. Plus, the damage was done.

  The Middling witches were both on the ground. They got to their feet and fell again.

  After the witches fell yet again, they both began crawling away from the spot, but they slid back. It was as if they were on an incline that couldn’t be seen.

  “Maybe we should go help them,” Bibbi said.

  “Nah, I think they’ve got it under control.” I took a few steps backward in the direction of the broker building.

  It was getting so I couldn’t go out anymore. When I was ready for a fight, I got asked for autographs. When I was trying to keep things calm, stuff like this happened.

  “They don’t look like they’re doing too hot.” Bibbi was still watching.

  I continued to put distance between me and my latest victims. Getting closer would not fix the issue. It might only make it worse. They might end up with… Oh no, I wouldn’t even think about it. If this was like some of the other times things went screwy around me, it would wear off once I was farther away—hopefully.

  “They’re fine.” I reached over, grabbing the fabric of her jacket to get her moving. “Come on, I’m dying for cocoa.”

  “Are you going to get Mertie to scare some cocoas out of Gillian? Mertie won’t do it for anyone else. Zab asked her, like, five times the other day, and she kept pretending she couldn’t hear him,” she said, completely oblivious to the two witches still falling all over themselves.

  “Yeah.” I would’ve said anything to get her away from this spot. Too many people were noticing the floundering witches. My proximity to the odd events would eventually be noticed.

  I flipped through another book, looking for an explanation on how I might’ve caused those witches to get stuck on the ice, without having said a spell or with any real intention to hurt them. Certain things could be done with a flick of a wrist, but so far that seemed to be limited to lighting a fire and trivial things.

  I couldn’t find anything that would explain today. Or what happened last week, when I saw that warlock who sneered at me. He was walking along like normal and then his hat slipped over his eyes and he fell. And then he couldn’t seem to get his hat off his head. A couple of days prior, I happened to see Gillian as she was walking into her shop, her arms full of chocolate-making supplies. The door, which typically opened inward, opened the other way, as if trying to hit her intentionally. It wasn’t a violent slam. It was as if the door was poking her antagonistically, until she dropped the items in her arms and her face was covered in cocoa. She’d turned my way, as if I’d done it. I’d been iffy on my guilt at the time. Not quite so uncertain anymore.

  Hawk walked in the back. I closed the book, tucked it under the throw blanket, and grabbed Bibbi’s gossip magazine. I should’ve taken the book upstairs, but after the fifth dead end, I’d settled onto the couch to scan them. Plus, I’d begun to think Hawk wasn’t coming back tonight.

  Now he was settling onto the couch opposite me. It would’ve been better if he sat on the same couch, because then he’d at least be looking in a different direction, instead of my way.

  Just like that, I was the furry little creature in the open field. Only difference was that I wanted to get attacked. The room seemed extremely quiet, but it wasn’t because he’d muted anything, as I could hear the distant wind blowing and the creaking of people moving overhead. I could also hear myself swallow, my heart pound, and my breathing go nonexistent as I tried to pretend I didn’t want to gulp down air.

  There was the slightest lift to the corner of his mouth and a knowing gleam in his eye. Suddenly I had tunnel vision. That was all it took, and I couldn’t seem to pry my eyes from him.

  “What?” I said, taking the offense before he could shift this into more dangerous territory.

  He unfolded himself from his couch and moved to mine. I was wrong. Across from me had been much better.

  He pulled the book out from under the throw. “Minimalist Magic. Interesting.”

  “Just trying to catch up on all the stuff I missed growing up in Rest.”

  “Do you need help?” The testosterone pouring off him seemed to be offering more than magical tutoring.

  “No. Did you want something in particular?” I asked, forcing my attention to the magazine, anywhere to not look at him.

  “I heard an interesting story today about some witches getting stuck on ice. Seemed they couldn’t get up for a good hour, even with help.”

  “Bad luck, I guess. Just a fluke accident, I’d imagine.” An hour? He had to be exaggerating. Or whoever he’d heard it from had been. People loved to make things bigger. It had only been a little ice patch. How could they not be able to get up from an ice patch just because of a little unintentional magic? It couldn’t have been all me. I hadn’t used a spell. I didn’t know a spell for that. I’d pored over every book in this place—and that was quite a collection—and not once did one mention anything about spells that didn’t actually use spells. I couldn’t have just thought that into existence.

  “Very. That’s what everyone else was saying. A few people thought maybe it was a leftover patch of darkness left from Dread.” He nodded, not looking at all convinced.

  “Oh, yeah, that sounds plausible.” Dread? Something I was doing was being linked with that evil? I had gotten that surge after I got him trapped in the hill. Could it be that I had some of his magic in me now? If Hawk didn’t have his eyes trained on me, I would’ve gotten up and vomited in the alley.

  “If something is wrong, you can come to me.”

  Yes, and tell him that I was walking around unintentionally hurting people? That I might have some piece of evil in me? Not likely. I’d figure out how to get rid of it myself.

  “Thanks, but I’m good. I’m really tired. See you tomorrow.” I got out of there before this conversation turned into something completely different, and I lost control in an altogether different way.

  I waited until the building had gone quiet before I padded barefoot downstairs. I grabbed a chair and swung it around, sitting cross-legged in front of the mammoth machine that was something much more than metal and gears. It was infused with magic and some sort of sentient being.

  Helen’s machinery churned, whirling and picking up speed, as if to signal she’d been waiting for me, as if she knew I’d been waiting all night to talk to her. Whatever she was, I didn’t doubt her knowledge.

  “I’m guessing you know about the weird stuff that has been happening lately.” I rested my arms on the back of the chair and dropped my chin on them.

  Her whirling sped up and then dwindled.

  “I know. There’s always something weird going on with me.” I talked to Helen so often that I was starting to discern what her noises meant, or imagined I did. If I guessed wrong, she wasn’t shooting out a slip and telling me so.

  She made a short squeaking noise, trying to hurry me along with my story.

  “Sorry. So, I saw some witches not far from the square, and they were laughing at Bibbi and really making my blood boil. I didn’t do anything, or say anything, but they ran into some problems with an ice patch. It was one of those weird things that keeps happening lately.”

  She replied with a short burst of grinding.

  “Yeah, just like the other times, but I was so careful. I tried not to focus on them, and I didn’t intentionally motion toward them.”

  She whistled and then churned a bit.

  “You’re right. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal, or wouldn’t be for someone else, but my magic never used to hurt anyone. Ever.” Even when it was inconvenient, there had been a comfort in knowing it wouldn’t harm anyone. As frustrated as I got at times, there’d been a safe feeling in knowing that, deep down, my magic was good. Now it wasn’t. Had I gotten some evil magic in me, or had I somehow twisted it because of something I was?

  Helen gave me a sound that could only mean one thing: Screw ’em. They deserve
d it.

  Had the punishment fit the crime? Who was I to dole out punishment, anyway? Someone who’d been catty herself on occasion. Either way, it wasn’t as if I could browbeat Helen into saying I was guilty if she didn’t want to. I wasn’t sure I could browbeat her into doing anything at all. My conscience was looking for a guilty verdict, but I wouldn’t get it here.

  “What if I do something really bad without meaning to?”

  She whistled high and then low.

  “I know you don’t think I will, but what if you’re wrong?” Before I’d even finished the question, I knew what she was going to say. I held up my hand. “I know. You’re Helen. You don’t make mistakes.” I got up and laid a hand on her machinery. “Thanks for listening again.”

  I really hoped she was right. If she was wrong? I didn’t want to think about it.

  6

  I had my feet kicked up on my desk, ignoring all the comings and goings around me. Business was booming these days, and I wished they’d all go home. I needed mental clarity, and my mind was being cluttered with all the nonsense and gossip these people couldn’t stop chattering about.

  Finnary, the witch in front of me, had signed a contract fifteen minutes ago and was still sitting at my desk. She was getting paid very well to make sure some ditz got a job over in Rest, but instead of taking her pay and leaving, all she did was talk about so and so being snubbed by some Miss Hooty Tooty at Zark’s last night. I nodded, making uh-huh noises as I deemed appropriate, since one of the keys to this job was keeping a steady supply of talent coming in.

  This job required a niche, and I wasn’t sure what mine was. Zab’s situation was easy. He was liked universally because he was…I don’t know, just lovable? Musso was a completely different animal. At some point, long ago, it must’ve become the thing to get a grunt and an eye roll from him, since it seemed to be almost coveted. Hawk never dealt with anyone directly, for obvious reasons. As for me? I was still figuring out my place.