Dark Elements: an Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Sector 8 (The Othala Witch Collection)

by LJ Swallow

  “The others had genuine excuses. You attended, then disappeared after five minutes. Your father is bloody furious. You've humiliated us.”

  “Is he here?”

  My father spends more and more time with the Senate, and less and less time at home. Thankfully. He’s always been arrogant, always closely aligned with the top dogs and in the Hylands’ pockets. He’s one of the few who’ve met the new Regent and is an outspoken, staunch supporter. As his daughter, I have no illusions his ultimate plan is my marriage to the Regent.

  Dream on, father.

  In the early days after the Othala took over, suspicion and doubt spilled from the humans. The witches agreed to prove their benevolence by creating a Senate, allowing input from both sides. This included a pact to strengthen the unity through marriage and children, and the creation of the Scion system.

  The famous Uprising from fifty years ago failed and hundreds of people were sent beyond the barriers to the Wastelands populated by the ravagers and death. For years, the humans remained quiet.

  Recently, rumours of a new rebellion have circulated and have reached the ears of the Senate. Nobody takes them seriously, a few lone wolves captured and “disappearing” is all that happens.

  The power of the Othala-led Senate is impossible to break, but I know humans grow in desire to seek a weakness. They're deluded. Without the Othala magical protection, the barriers would be down and the place overrun by ravagers in less than a day. What's the point in rebelling if you die at the hands of the government or if by some crazy fate you succeed and the sector is destroyed?

  “No. He has an emergency Senate meeting today which is lucky for you.”

  “Emergency?”

  “Don't ask me, you know we're not allowed to know.”

  “Am I needed at work today, then?” I ask. Please, no. I wheedled a low position in the Senate the day after I left school, playing secretary to one of the human Senate members. Intriguing job—I don't attend the meetings, but I write the reports released to the Enclave, summarising any actions taken. If my boss, Brandon, needs research, I help. Although my trips to the library involve unpermitted research in books filled with magic.

  “I think you'd best avoid the place today, until your father returns and briefs you about the story he told everybody. You were very sick last night and were forced to leave, apparently.”

  “Kicking off a month of fun celebrations,” I mutter.

  “This time of year is always exciting.” My mother shakes her head. “Even more exciting that our daughter will be presented to the new Regent. Do you know how fortunate you are that neither brother has chosen a wife yet?”

  “Oh yeah, I'm ecstatic.”

  The past three years, neither heir attended any of the Gatherings. Neither did I. Nobody can go until they're twenty-one. Now I'm about to be wheeled out with the other six girls old enough to be wedded. Wedded. Ugh.

  Who knows what sort of girl the Regent will want? Or what type he's attracted to?

  We may be one of the original aristocratic lines chosen to run in the Senate, but none from our line has held the position as a Regent Queen. Well, once a Karran Scion married a Regent, but she died within the first month of pregnancy. No Regent chose our family since then—what’s the point if a Karran can’t produce an heir? I'm counting on rejection too. The idea of marrying any witch turns my stomach, not because they're witches but because I have no say in the process, but certain death as a queen... no thanks.

  “I don't want to go. I'm still... sick.” I can't go anywhere until I find out who I was with last night and why he took my book.

  “Hungover,” she retorts.

  “Please.” I hold back the whine from my voice, but I'm wasting my time.

  My mother approaches and tips my chin, her green eyes searching mine. “You're a very beautiful girl, and I'm sure you'll have a chance.”

  “What if I don't want a husband?”

  She sighs and drops my chin. “Do you realise how ungrateful you sound sometimes? We are part of the original families, and you don't choose. Do you really think your father would allow you free rein in the sector to look for a husband there? Think about it Cora, if you weren't born into this family, you could be living a miserable life as a sector dweller.”

  “I just said I don't want a husband, witch, or human.”

  My mother is an expert at maintaining calm over the years, but it’s slipping. “Cora, I'm too tired to argue with you. Please rest so you will be your dazzling, beautiful self tonight.”

  I look into her pleading eyes just long enough for the guilt to seep in, and without another word, I walk past her in the direction of my room.

  I stare at the girl in the mirror. Yes, I'm a mess. I'd attempted to untangle my long, brown hair before, but with only my fingers and no brush, I don't look good. Red-rimmed green eyes gaze back in confusion. Last night I chased freedom from the Othala and ended up disappointed—and in bed with a witch. I snort softly to myself at the irony.

  My face still stings from Ty's harsh kisses, and I touch my mouth and neck, dragged back to the minutes in the hotel room, heart speeding up and stomach tightening at the memories. I unzip my dress and step out, catching the scent of Ty's cologne as I do.

  I will draw a line under last night and keep planning my escape.

  And I will find out who he is.

  4

  My mother leaves early afternoon, her regular trip to the beautician is likely to be longer than usual in preparation for tonight. This allows me enough time to meet Declan and spill to somebody what happened.

  I smile to myself as I head out of the house. I'm an expert sneaker these days. There's a cafe on the edge of the Enclave, close to our old school and far enough from the Senate to avoid my father, should he appear. Every time I think about our first meeting since my disgraceful behaviour yesterday, my heart and blood cool. My backside met his hands a few times as a kid; surely he won't do that again.

  Tables outside the cafe are positioned in the summer sun, but I forego the warmth for a quieter table at the back. Who knows if somebody is looking for me? Cafes are a luxury afforded to the Enclave only, although cafe is a misnomer because coffee doesn’t exist. Only items able to grow or be produced in this part of the world remains available in the sector and many old world items are no longer obtainable. The sector manufactures plenty, the environment suitable for crops and farming. The lower caste humans produce everything the witches and Enclave need. Witches contribute magic, low caste contribute skills, and the Enclave families contribute daughters and pretend this allows them power.

  Declan sits at a table, watching the door. His thick brown hair sweeps into a fringe across his face, bright green eyes meeting mine.

  He sits forward from where he leans back in his chair and smiles up at me. “It's naughty Cora!” he announces.

  “Shush!” I side glance an older couple drinking and chatting at a nearby table, but they're too engrossed in their own conversation to be bothered by ours.

  I slide out a chair and sit opposite him. He pushes a glass of sparkling water across the table. “You painted your nails again.”

  Declan holds up his hand and examines the black. “Witchy and mysterious, huh?”

  “Seriously? Matches your perpetually black clothes though.” I gesture at his shirt and jeans, contrasting his pale features. “Maybe try some lipstick next time?”

  He grimaces. “No thanks. But enough about my fashion sense. Where did you go last night?”

  “Out.”

  He cocks a brow. “Sector? I brought something for your hangover.” Declan delves into his pocket and pulls out a small plastic bag containing crushed-up herbs.

  I curl my fingers around his and squeeze. “Declan!”

  “Nothing illegal, silly. I knew you'd be worse for wear.” He slaps my hand away. “Basic herbal remedies. You know me.”

  “Yeah, but some of your herbal remedies can be mind altering, Declan,” I whisper.


  “Family magic, passed down, it would be rude of me not to practice it.”

  Declan's witch heritage sets him apart from my family, but we're both set apart in our own ways. We're a similar height and similar looking, even mistaken for brother and sister before. Apt, because he's a mix of best friend and brother after years united against the other Enclave kids. We don't discuss our childish attempts at teaching me magic anymore. I'm no longer a curious human child, and the Othala aren't so understanding about adults using magic, or those who teach them.

  Friends since we were eight years old, we have our different reasons for being set apart. We coped with the rest of high school together and at a snarky distance from other kids. This pissed my father off because the more I avoided the other families, the less chance any of them would like me. Read: no potential witch boy would be charmed by my Scion self.

  “Was my absence a big thing?” I ask.

  Declan chuckles. “Nobody was surprised.”

  “But I can't do it, Declan. The Scion thing… it makes me feel sick.”

  “Come on, one of the lesser witches will choose you. They're not all assholes. Just think, you could have little Cora half witches bossing others around.”

  I snort. “Arranged marriage. Bullshit.”

  “Come on, some of the witch guys are h-o-t. You haven't met them all yet.”

  “Hopefully I'll scare them off and end up a spinster. Shame I don't like cats.”

  Declan shakes his head at my attempt at humour. “Oh, Cora, everything will be okay.”

  “I don't want anything to do with hierarchy crap, you know that. I will navigate my own life, thank you.”

  His hand curls around the bag. “You're not still trying to learn magic are you?”

  “No.” I bite the edge of my mouth.

  Declan taught me simple spells shortly after we met at eight years old. We'd play in the woods where he'd gather plants and we'd make campfires while he taught me ritual words. I'd watch with jealous delight as he conjured small storm clouds or covered nearby plants in frost despite the summer heat. His family's magic manipulates the elements, and every time I visit his home and look at their flourishing gardens, I laugh at the waste of magic on something frivolous.

  Once — just once — my attempt at a spell worked and I produced a flickering flame on a pile of autumn leaves, which Declan stomped out before a fire grew. Declan freaked out and swore he'd never teach me anything again; that the joke was over.

  I practised my one successful spell over and over but never managed to replicate the flame.

  The same happened with using runes. Before he backed off from teaching me magic, I drew a protective circle on my hip and precisely copied the intertwined shapes I’d seen in a book. I asked Declan what happened when he touched my hand. The bloody idiot teased me and pretended my skin burnt his hand. I hid my tears as I scrubbed away the circle in the shower that evening. What stupidity leads me to believe just because I know the magic secrets I can use them? I'm no witch.

  “Cora... It was a joke when we were kids but you can't anymore.”

  “None of it works anyway.”

  “If you're found out... or the book gets into the wrong hands.” He taps the table. “Promise me you're not.”

  I can't lie to him, so I scrunch my nose up instead. “Herbs to help my hangover? Do you have any witch repellent I could use tonight?”

  “Funny,” he says with a smile.

  “I'm glad you think it is because I bloody don't!”

  “You could always marry me I s’pose,” he suggests.

  “Wow, you're the epitome of romance aren't you?”

  He places the herbs on the table. “Yeah.”

  I pour the bag's contents into my water and swish them around. “Declan, I do not want to marry you. Not only are you my best friend, but you're not my type.”

  “And you're not my type, you know that.” He points at my cleavage with his little finger of the hand wrapped around his glass. “Nice tits though.”

  “Cheeky!” I kick him under the table, and he laughs at me. “I don't want to marry anybody. Human, witch, or a combination of the two.”

  “Neither do I.” Declan's face darkens for a moment, and he sips his water.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be. I've as much chance of finding a match as you, haven't I?”

  “Very probably.”

  We lapse into a silence I don't want, one allowing intrusive thoughts about my life and future. Declan gazes over my shoulder, watching people come and go as I focus on the table instead.

  “Anyway!” Declan slams his glass down. “Give me the low-down on last night.”

  “I'm not sure how much I should tell you.”

  “Or you might have to kill me? Special ops?”

  “Funny. No. I have a slight problem.”

  “Yeah?”

  “So I met this guy, and this morning I woke up in a hotel room and –”

  “Nooo! Cora, tell me you didn't.” Genuine shock mars Declan's usually calm features. He leans forward. “Did you…?”

  “It was a confusing night. Sam was there, and a couple of others we know. This other guy, he’s a witch from the Enclave.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Not sure. I haven't seen him before. A bit older than us but not on the Senate so I don’t recognise him.”

  “Hot?”

  I chew my lip and Declan smirks. “You screwed an Enclave guy? Well, there's your witch husband lined up. Nice.”

  “I didn't screw him. He's called Ty and...” I don't want to tell Declan the exact events. “That's all I know.”

  Declan rubs his hands together. “A mysterious, sexy stranger and a Scion who wants a mysterious, sexy life. I hope you find him again!”

  “Why?”

  “Sounds romantic. Protecting your honour, then, not taking advantage.”

  “Retch!” I say. “I don't need my anything protecting.” Talking to Declan about Ty lifts my heart rate, and not only because I'm scared what will happen about the book.

  Declan taps his fingers on his chin. “You’re serious about leaving before you’re married, aren’t you?”

  “You mean that’s been my plan for five years?”

  “Hmm.” He lowers his voice. “Don’t you dare leave without me.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Promise? If you do, I’ll come and find you.”

  “Promise.”

  The problem here is I’m positive Declan no longer wants to leave, and if I promise not to go without him, I’m promising not to go at all.

  I might not have a choice. Law enforcement haven't caught up with me yet, but what has Ty done with my book? And who the hell is he?

  5

  As a little girl, I dreamt of attending a Gathering where the Regents attended. My mind filled with images of handsome witches sweeping the most beautiful Scion from her feet and the pair living happily ever after. I can hear myself now: witches are kings, but they are nice people. They must be because Declan is a witch and he's my best friend.

  Once in a generation, the luckiest girl of all marries a Regent Heir and one day becomes a queen in the finery I read about in fairy-tale books. More air-headed childhood thoughts: I was a Scion. I would get this chance. I could be a queen.

  Until the day I discovered more than one Scion married a Regent because the beautiful queen died. The little girl left behind one of her fantasy worlds that day.

  My back sticks to the leather seats in the back of my father's sleek black car. I pull at the straps of my dress as they slip from my shoulders. My mother dragged in a designer to take my measurements for this dress six months ago and the ridiculous blue item has hung in my wardrobe since, hidden behind my shirts and old, school uniform.

  Claire, our sole maidservant, twisted my hair into braids and under protest painted my face with make-up. Thankful the dress reaches my ankles, even if it is too low cut for my liking, my overenthusiastic and clearly relie
ved mother greeted me as I walked into the lounge room.

  Each Gathering this week takes place at the Senate building, in the Great Hall. The final announcements of who will marry who takes place at the Hyland estate. Now that is a once in a lifetime event because few people have seen the estate, and only the girls and their suitors will attend.

  All homes in the Enclave are large and luxurious, small estates surrounded by open space. Some human Senate members' homes are in the sector, behind security fences and magical wards. Grumblings from the families saw security stepped up in recent times.

  The Senate building stands out from the others. I'm unsure what purpose the building was used for in the old world, but it's glass walls and sterile bright interior is at odds with the period, lavish buildings the Senate families live in. I'm unsure how many work here, not only the twelve Senate members but also their staff, including me and at least a dozen more. In office hours, armed security stand on every floor, a display that the witches power stretches beyond magical.

  The lower floor contains the public areas, dressed up with the six main Othala family crests and runes, a reminder to the humans who's really in charge here.

  I'm not the only Scion and family in attendance of course. At school, the girls avoided me, but no such luck tonight. We have the subtle tattoos but adding a number to our foreheads would be as appropriate. One to six, with me as six of course. Four of the girls already mingle with the Othala boys. We attended school together and this is a formality for some. This whole charade is ridiculous, most of the eligible people are already in relationships deemed suitable, some secret and some not. For some girls, this is their second or third time; not everybody finds a match on the first year. I should be thankful the Senate allow us some choice.

  Tonight’s main event is hopeful parents shoving their daughters in front of the Regent and hoping for the best.

  The Great Hall mirrors the entrance, but this time styled to match the old mansions. Each family crest is associated with the runes and colours representing their individual families' magic, the patterns conjoined. Mind-control, manipulation of the elements, shapeshifting, teleportation, healing... The Othala world combines into an army unlike any other.