Hidden Conduit- The Complete Series

by J. N. Colon

  “This is Lucas Mendoza.” My grandmother stood, smoothing a lock of dark hair behind her ear while she graced the guy with an unusually warm smile. “He’s from our former coven. He’s here to teach Angel how to control her powers.”

  Lucas stood, holding out his hand for me to shake.

  Butterflies burst through my stomach. “That’s great!” I moved toward him only to get yanked back by an iron grip.

  “Why can’t you teach her?” The tendons in Etie’s jaw flexed. “You’re a witch.”

  “My powers aren’t quite the same caliber of Evangeline’s,” she said. “Lucas is a much better fit.”

  My lips thinned. I had a feeling she was talking about more than magic. How could she go from forcing Etie and me together to wanting to tear us apart? Did she think once he saved me, we’d forget about each other?

  Too bad she hadn’t counted on Etie binding our souls. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d made that very clear. Many times.

  “No.” Etie shook his head. “No way.”

  I shot him a glare over my shoulder. “Who made you the boss of me?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Angeline...”

  “Étienne…” I drew his name out the same way.

  He dropped my hand and crossed his arms over his chest, a string of rapid French flying from his mouth.

  I sighed loudly. “I have no idea what you’re saying. You know I don’t speak French.”

  A frustrated growl slithered from between his clenched teeth. “How do we know we can even trust him?”

  Lucas cleared his throat. “My family has known the De la Moras for a long time. I’d never do anything to hurt Evangeline.”

  “Angel,” I corrected, flashing a sympathetic smile to combat the snarl Etie was giving him. “You’re fine. I’m sure they wouldn’t have called you if you were dangerous.”

  My mother stood, picking up her coffee cup and carrying it to the sink. Her kitten scrubs were more wrinkled than usual. “Etie, you were the one yelling at us last night to help Angel, were you not?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Awe, Etie, don’t worry.” Marisol crammed half of a cinnamon roll in her mouth. “You have nothing to be jealous about. Flaca is totally obsessed with you.”

  Heat flooded my face. “Shut up, Marisol. And don’t call me that.” Older sisters could be such a pain in the ass.

  “I’ll keep an eye on Lucas,” she said around the rest of the cinnamon roll. “I’ll make sure he stays in his own room at night.”

  Etie’s head snapped toward my grandmother. “He’s staying here?”

  She gave a noncommittal shrug and grabbed her empty plate, heading toward the sink. “Where else would he stay?”

  I could already see the wheels turning in the crazy Cajun’s head. He was going to sneak into my window every night until this male witch was gone. Part of me was annoyed. The other was secretly excited my voodoo bodyguard would keep me company.

  I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him. He’d never let me live it down.

  Lucas jerked his thumb toward the attic door. “Why don’t we get started? Milagro and I have already set up the spell room.”

  My brow arched. “Spell room?”

  “It’s where witches perform their spells and rituals,” Lucas said.

  I nodded, remembering the faded white lines of the large pentagram in the center of the attic floor. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Etie’s glare hadn’t relented.

  My hand popped on my hip. “I thought you had to work.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want Etie there. I just didn’t want him threatening the guy trying to teach me.

  “Work can wait.”

  Lucas cleared his throat. “Maybe it would be best if you didn’t come, Etie.” His hands lifted in defense when the bokor growled. “It’s nothing personal. Your powers may interfere while she’s trying to gain control.”

  Etie’s eyes darkened, and he took a threatening step toward Lucas.

  Abuela let loose a few Spanish curse words. “Wait just a minute, Étienne. Lucas is a guest in our house, and you have no right—”

  “When something involves Angeline, I have every right,” he said, cutting her off. His burning gaze seared into Lucas as he brushed his fingers over the mark on his neck. “You see this? You know what this is?”

  Lucas licked his lips. “I know about the gwo-bon lyen.”

  “Then you know if anything happens to Angeline, I’ll feel it. And I’ll come.” The muscles in his arms flexed as if it took everything Etie had not to punch the brujo. Lucas was only an inch or two shorter than him and a bit slimmer, but he may as well have been a mouse compared to the pouvior bokor and the amount of energy flowing off him. I was surprised he hadn’t flinched.

  “It also means hands off.” Etie’s voice deepened into a dangerous cadence.

  I rolled my eyes behind his back. Not every guy in Carrefour was interested in me.

  Lucas gave a curt nod. “I understand.”

  Etie’s eyes began to glow. “Wanting me to leave has already put you on my bad side.”

  “That’s enough.” I darted between them, getting assaulted by a cloud of energy and testosterone. I put my hand on Etie’s chest, his heart crashing against my palm. “Stop threatening the person who’s going to teach me to control this crap.”

  His gaze reluctantly broke away from the brujo, landing on me. “I don’t like this.”

  I scoffed. “You don’t like anything.” Etie had no reason to be jealous. No one could hold a candle to the voodoo caster. And that was before our souls were intertwined. Now, I wasn’t even sure I was capable of liking other guys.

  Étienne Benoit had ruined me, and I wasn’t all that mad about it.

  A growl rumbled in his chest, and he gave me one last steely glare before he spun around and marched away. The living room door slammed shut as he stalked out.

  The tension in the air thinned, and everyone took a breath of relief. I, on the other hand, felt anxious already. Was it the sudden lack of Etie’s presence, or was it this new chapter in my life? I was about to learn how to be a witch.

  “That went well.” There was no mistaking the sarcasm in my sister’s voice.

  “How did you expect it to go?” I shot my mother and Abuela a look. “You could have warned me. You knew Etie wouldn’t react well to this.”

  “Of course not.” Marisol snorted on a laugh and stole the half-eaten cinnamon roll off my mom’s plate. “Would you look at this hot man witch?”

  A blush crossed Lucas’s cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “We should probably get started.” He angled his body toward the attic door and looked at me from beneath thick lashes. “Shall we?”

  “Let’s go.” The slap of my flip flops against the creaking wooden stairs was louder than usual, making each beat of my heart more frantic.

  Why was I so nervous? This was what I wanted.

  The boxes and discarded furniture had been pushed to the edges of the attic. The pentagram was painted a fresh white, vivid against the hardwood floor. The three interlocking crescent moons were a gleaming shade of silver.

  My eyes widened at the shelves that used to line the walls attracting dust and critters. They were now positioned in the center and filled with books, an assortment of witchy devices, and containers of ingredients. “Where did all this stuff come from?”

  “Most of it was here. I also brought some.” He stood next to the bookshelf, picking up one of the older books. “This is one of your family’s grimoires.”

  My curiosity was piqued, and I hurried over. I knew from television and movies that a grimoire was a book of spells. I carefully took it and opened it to one of the thick, manila pages. Beautiful calligraphy was scrawled across the page. “Is this a spell?”

  Lucas glanced over my shoulder so close that his warm, minty breath brushed down my neck. “It’s a spell to cure boils.”

  My face contorted. “Oh, gross.”

 
He chuckled. “In the past, a lot of witches worked as healers, curing various illnesses.”

  I blew a long, deep breath and placed the grimoire back on the shelf. Some of the other books resembled ones at Madame Monnier’s, only they were a few decades older. “This is a lot to take in.” Magic had been under my nose—in my house—most of my life.

  Lucas’s hand landed on my shoulder, the weight of it gentle and comforting—calming even. “I know this is a lot. You’ve been told your whole life you were normal, then suddenly an entire world of magic is surrounding you.” His brown eyes melted again. “I don’t know what that feels like, but I promise I’m going to help you any way I can.”

  My eyes burned, and I rapidly swallowed to force the lump of emotion down. “Thanks.” My voice was rough as I neared the verge of tears. Not even Marisol knew how I felt. Her powers weren’t trying to take her over and destroy her sanity. Etie knew the struggle, but Lucas could tell me things he couldn’t—things about where I came from.

  A warm smile spread over his lips. “How about we start from the beginning?”

  “Sounds good.” My words were so soft I wasn’t sure he heard them.

  “According to Milagro, you know next to nothing about witchcraft.”

  “If you have a Witchcraft for Dummies, that would be great.” I shook my head and ran my finger across a row of older, tattered books. “Abuela and my mother haven’t been very forthcoming with information.”

  Lucas winced. “I heard. They were trying to deal with this the best way they knew how. Now, they know better.”

  Yeah, thanks to the crazy storm I started in the cemetery last night and Etie’s lecturing afterward.

  “Let’s talk about witches in general.” His gaze traveled the shelves surrounding us. “All witches can cast written spells and make potions using what you see here. Some spells take more practice, mastery, and even more power to perform.”

  I pictured myself dressed as a fairy princess when I was seven, waving a wand around, pretending I was doing magic. “So a little kid couldn’t perform a really difficult spell?”

  Lucas shrugged. “Not unless they were born powerful.”

  Witchcraft was like voodoo in that way. Casters could master voodoo with time, practice, and dedication. And then, there were bokors who were simply born capable of much more than normal.

  “For instance, if you had grown up with your powers, at ten years old you would have been able to do a lot of things most adults could never dream of.” He laughed at the grimace spreading across my face. “It’s not a bad thing.”

  “I’d rather be normal.” I hated being in the spotlight, and these powers were like a high-wattage, never-ending beam shining down on me.

  “Trust me, no one’s really normal.” A twinkle lit his brown eyes. “I might be an even bigger freak than you.”

  I fought back a smile. “Yeah, right.”

  “You’ll see.” He turned to the shelf, searching for something. “Ah.” He pulled out a hardback book and handed it to me. “You might want to read this in your spare time.”

  My finger traced the gold-embossed title. Witches & Telekinesis.

  “All witches have some degree of telekinesis,” Lucas explained. “They’re able to move objects without using a spell or spoken command.” He flicked his hand, and the book flew from my grip and landed on a table in the corner.

  My eyes widened. “Woah! I can make things move with my mind?” Scenes from the horror movie Carrie bubbled up. I hoped no one poured pigs blood on me. I’d probably do way worse than her.

  “Sure—with a little practice. Another more difficult talent closely related to telekinesis is the ability to concentrate energy and use it as a weapon.” He lifted his hand, and his eyes shifted from soft brown to a vibrant purple. Sparks formed between his fingertips and grew until his entire palm was cupping a violet ball of churning, crackling energy.

  A gasp escaped my mouth. The hair on my arms stood on end from the power pulsating around him. If I hadn’t been wearing the nivum talisman, more than a little light flickering would be happening. “That’s amazing.” I reached out to touch it.

  Lucas quickly curled his fingers, extinguishing the purple ball. “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “Right.” I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep them out of trouble. “I’d end up demolishing the entire attic.”

  “Not likely.” Lucas flashed a smile, unleashing a set of perfect dimples. “I was worried you’d get burned.”

  “Oh.” I gave a nervous laugh. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” The purple in his eyes began to fade back to brown, and something indecipherable flashed over his expression. “I’d never hurt you, Angel. I promise.”

  I swallowed hard and shifted awkwardly at his suddenly intense stare. “Um, okay.” We’d just met. I didn’t expect him to pledge his undying loyalty to me or anything.

  Lucas cleared his throat and turned away, pulling out a large, ancient tome. “Covina de Validus.”

  My brows dipped. “Coven of the powerful? What is that?”

  “That’s the name of our coven.” He opened the book, showing a list of names in faded calligraphy. “These are all the members of the coven since the beginning.”

  My eyes landed on a familiar name one level from the top. “Uncle Ferdinand! That creepy painting in the hall near my room?”

  Lucas’s chuckle was buttery smooth and sweet. “That’s him. He was the son of Penelope De la Mora, the matriarch and founder of Covina de Validus.”

  My head snapped back “My ancestors created the coven?”

  He nodded. “A member of your family has always been the head of our organization of witches. Your father—” He pulled up short.

  I waved my hand in the air. “It’s okay. You can talk about him. My grandmother told me he was the leader.” I glanced at the other names and turned the page, more curling lines stretching across the paper. “Who’s the head now? My dad didn’t have any brothers or sisters. A cousin of his or something?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” He flipped to the very last written page. Marisol and Evangeline were written beneath Cristóbal. “But it’ll eventually go to the rightful heir, who would be you or your sister.”

  I scoffed and handed him the book back. “I don’t think I could rule over a coven. I can’t even control my own powers.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Angel.” Lucas tucked the book back into its spot on the shelf. “Once you get the hang of this, I bet you’ll think differently.”

  I think not.

  “We’ll see,” I mumbled, crossing my arms against my chest. “The coven is located in Virginia?”

  “Yes.” Lucas jerked his head toward the pentagram on the floor. “Come on.”

  I followed him and took a seat in the center, the shimmering silver crescent moons between us.

  “Do you have any idea what the three moons symbolize?” he asked, running his finger over one of them.

  “The power of three?” I joked. I’d seen the symbol in Madame Monnier’s and on that website I stumbled across, so it wasn’t exclusive to our coven.

  Those dimples flashed again. “Body, mind, and soul. Our magic is ingrained in each one, and they all work together to shape our powers.” Lucas’s hand reached out, hovering over my chest so close warmth radiated from his palm. “If one is injured or weakened, it’ll affect our magic just as our emotions do.”

  Did being bound to Etie affect my powers, too?

  As if Lucas read my mind, he nodded. “Being tied to the bokor will influence your magic, but I’m not sure how. A soulbind like this is rare among voodoo casters, and it’s even less common between witches and voodoo casters.”

  I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. What would my powers do to Etie?

  “You’re a strong conduit,” Lucas continued. “Nothing is going to be common about this bind.”

  All the more reason to learn how to control this crap.

 
His hand dropped back to his side. “I haven’t met a conduit before, but I’m used to working with other witches who have trouble managing their powers.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s my specialty. Most witches are born with a specific talent or skill that usually appears when they’re young.” He brushed those lustrous honey locks out of his face. “You’re a conduit. Your grandmother is a seer. Your father was an elemental.”

  My head cocked to the side at the foreign word. “An elemental?”

  He nodded. “An elemental can control earth, air, wind, and fire.”

  “Wow. My dad must have been a kickass brujo.” I tried picturing him working some magic mojo, but all I could see were the memories of my childhood. I only knew him as a loving father, not the head witch of a coven.

  Lucas’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m sure he was.” He cleared his throat and steered us back on topic. “I’m a diffuser.”

  My lip curled thinking of an attachment to my hairdryer. “A what?”

  “I can weaken or diffuse magic, make it less potent.” His soft brown eyes lingered over me, something unreadable glinting in them. “I’m the opposite of a conduit.”

  “Oh.” I could see why Lucas was sent here to train me. “You can stop me from turning into a magic tornado?”

  He winced. “To an extent. I’m going to teach you how to keep yourself in check.”

  That seemed like an impossible task.

  “A conduit is like a sponge. They absorb powers, but they should be able to control when they do.” Lucas ran his hand over the space in front of me, lines creasing his forehead. “You aren’t capable of that because you have no protection.”

  My brows met. “Protection?”

  “Think of it like this. Antennae are used to pick up radio waves and transmit them. Imagine millions of tiny antennae all over you.”

  He gently gripped my arm, running his fingers down to my wrist. His fingers were warm like Etie’s but much smoother. No electric tingle accompanied his touch. I suspected that was unique to the Cajun Casanova.

  “Right now, you’re picking up every ounce of power lingering in the air, drawing it into you. Sometimes you unknowingly connect with a magical being as well, borrowing their energy.” He dropped my arm. “Those familiar with conduits and how they work will immediately recognize you as one. The bind around your powers protected you, but now you’re out in the open.”