The Witch Is Back (4 page)

“I don't think we have much of a choice, Jinxy,” I said. “But I'm pretty sure she's harmless.” Giving her a reassuring smile and a careful pat on the arm, I gestured for the rest of the Cleri to follow Miss Peggy to the car.

“Holy mother . . . ,” I said, leaning forward in my seat to get a better view of where we'd be staying for the summer. I barely flinched as my forehead smacked against the window; I was too impressed with the massive structure in front of me to care.

A sprawling log-and-brick lodge sat in the middle of a lush field of green. The place was shaped like a tiara, the tallest part of the house in the middle, followed by smaller sections on either side, making up five parts in total. Windows spanned from floor to roof and decks separated the three stories. White brick stacks crept halfway up the sides of each section, like it was some kind of castle/cabin hybrid and the roofs each curved up slightly at the ends like a mischievous mustache.

I'd never seen any place like it in my life.

Then again, I wasn't sure if anyone outside of the witching community had seen anything like it, either. After leaving the airport, we'd ventured about a half hour outside of the Denver area before the van began to slowly crawl uphill and into the mountains. The last fifteen minutes of driving had been devoid of other cars and houses. With thickets of woods surrounding us on all sides, it was clear that we were alone out here.

Asher whistled out loud as he took in the grounds. “Dad used to show us pictures from his summer camps, and they didn't look
anything
like this,” he said, as Miss Peggy pulled up and around the circular driveway. “His cabins were practically falling apart.”

“This place looks like a freaking resort,” Jasmine blurted out.

“He said they'd go hiking in the woods and have to pitch these tents—” Asher continued his trip down his father's memory lane.

“If I'd known Brighton was like this, I might've come sooner,” I murmured, taking in the scenery in front of me.

“Dad said they taught him how to boil stinging nettles and eat them for dinner. Said it tasted like soggy salad.”

“I have a feeling we won't be eating stinging nettles here,” I said, shooting him a grin. I hadn't heard Asher talk about either of his parents much over the last few months, so it was nice to hear him bringing up his dad now. Sometimes I even forgot that he'd lost his mom and dad a few months before Samuel Parris had killed my mom. That I wasn't the only one who was hurting.

Sometimes our own personal grief had a way of blinding us from the pain that others were going through. I made a mental note to ask him more about it later. Right now I was in utter awe.

Listening to our banter, Miss Peggy turned and smiled with pride. “Sounds like your dad went to a mortal camp growing up,” she said. “Brighton's a different beast entirely. Since the location and its inhabitants are hidden to the outside world by magic, there's no chance that nonwitching people will find it. Attendees can use magic with impunity here, without having to worry about being caught. And that means there are no boundaries to what you'll find on campus. If your imagination can come up with it, it can—and probably does—exist at Brighton.”

As we watched from the van, kids and their parents unpacked cars around us and wandered the grounds. People used spells to transport their bags into the enormous main cabin while others showed off tricks they'd learned to their friends. All the faces were new to me and the tingling in my stomach that I'd had on the plane started to come back. Everyone looked so happy to be there. Adults welcomed kids as they entered the main cabin. Campers approached each other, exchanging hugs and talking excitedly.

It was clear they all had their cliques, those they'd hung out with in summers past. And not just within their individual covens, but it seemed like
everybody
knew each other. To them, I was no one. A stranger. But that would change . . . it always did. Even if it didn't though, I had my own clique with me, so it's not like I was on my own or anything.

“Come on, guys,” I said, opening the van door and stepping outside. I sucked in a deep breath of fresh air and then let it out slowly. God, it smelled great here. Like it hadn't been totally polluted by the rest of humankind yet. It sort of reminded me of my family's cabin, the one we'd retreated to when the Parrishables had come after us. Only, this appeared to be the
MTV Cribs
version. Less rugged and cozy, more hidden luxury.

Turning back to the others, I flashed them an encouraging look and then nodded my head in the direction of our bags, which Miss Peggy was busy piling up on the curb with a wave of her hand. “Let's check out our new digs, Cleri.”

Little luggage carts like they had at fancy hotels littered the pathways and we grabbed a few that weren't in use and began to stack our bags on top. Taking our cues from the other campers, we charmed the carts to follow us toward the building in front of us.

It was going to take me some time to get used to not having to censor my magic here. And a quick look at my friends showed that I wasn't the only one. Back home, even when we were inside our own houses, we were constantly looking over our shoulders to make sure no civilians saw us using our “skills.” Because if we were caught, well, let's just say none of us wanted to find ourselves in a witch trials sequel.

With my luggage now balancing precariously on the cart, I carefully bent down to pick up the last of my things: my purse, a few rag mags that I'd bought for the plane ride, and my iced coffee. Unfortunately, my cheer equilibrium must have been a bit off because of the flight or the altitude, and I teetered on my feet, which forced me to reach down and steady myself.

Maybe four-inch heels weren't a smart choice for my arrival at Brighton.

Of course, I'd been thinking more about fashion than function when I'd gotten dressed that morning. And my black patent-leather pumps were the perfect complement to the apple-red leather shorts I was wearing. So, I'd just have to be okay with walking a bit slower as I moved my stuff in. Not that I hadn't performed strenuous activities in shoes like these before.

I was a firm believer that anything worth doing could be done in sky-high heels.

Recovering as quickly as I could, I snatched up my things and stood up straight. Was it possible that no one saw that?

Hi, I'm Hadley and apparently I just learned how to walk
. And stand. Either way, I looked clumsy.
So
not the reputation I was planning to have here at Brighton.

Luckily, it seemed like people were too preoccupied with their own stuff to notice my faux pas. In fact, I wasn't sure anyone had noticed me arrive at all. For once, not everyone was studying my every move, waiting to see what I'd do next, say next. No one was waiting for my approval or leadership. Oddly, there was a sort of freedom in this.

The feeling lasted for about five seconds, before I realized how weird it was. When you'd been in the public eye for so long, switching back to obscurity was a bit . . . jarring. If this continued, I wasn't exactly sure what I'd do with myself.

“This is a side of you I haven't seen before,” a voice said from behind me.

My head jerked around to see Fallon standing less than five feet away from me. He had his hands in the pockets of his blue plaid shorts and was sporting a white polo shirt. An amused smile cut across his face and to be honest, he was looking very un-Fallon-like. I replaced my surprise with annoyance and gave him the look I reserved specially for him.

“I lost my balance, so what?” I said, trying to play it off. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Not to you,” he said, cocking his head to the side and fixing his gaze on me. “You're supposed to be this perfect witch and everything. Looks like someone might be a little off her game this summer.”

Fallon looked around at the other campers, who still hadn't realized that I existed. He'd noticed it, too. Well, I wasn't going to let him know it bothered me.

“My
game
is just fine,” I said, but I wondered if he was right. I wasn't usually clumsy. And I certainly wasn't ignored. Something felt . . . off about being here.

“Don't worry, Had,” he said, coming in close for what he said next. “Change can be a good thing.”

Then he winked at me.

Gross
.

“What's going on?” Asher asked, stepping into the space between us and breaking up the weirdest conversation I'd ever had.

“I have no clue,” I said, giving Fallon a pointed look.

“Right,” Fallon said, raising an eyebrow. Just then, a group of younger girls walked past and smiled at him before giggling and scurrying off. Fallon smirked as he watched the attractive campers disappear into the cabin and then looked directly at me with a smile I didn't want to try to decipher. “Things are definitely looking up.”

And then he grabbed his stuff and headed inside after the girls.

“Have we entered the
Twilight Zone
or something?” I asked Asher, confused by what had just happened. “Seriously, is this an alternate universe where I'm invisible and Fallon's actually . . .
cool
?”

Asher laughed and watched the other male member of the Cleri disappear through the doors. “Give him a break, Had. He's almost two years younger than us, and he's just now figuring out that girls can be more than just adversaries. Took him a while, but he's growing up. And by the looks of it, the girls here are recognizing that. Let him have his fun.”

“Just as long as it's not with me,” I muttered. Then, I added, more loudly, “I don't know, Asher. I have a weird feeling about this place.”

He walked over to me, placing his arms around my waist and pulling me to him tightly. Just being near him made me feel more at ease. “Better?”

“Much,” I said, nodding before giving him a long kiss.

“You two gonna stop sucking face long enough to come inside?” Jasmine yelled from the entrance to the cabin.

Forgoing magic for the time being, Asher grabbed the rails of our luggage cart and began to push it up the ramp and into the entranceway. A blast of cool air hit me as I walked inside and I was grateful to be out of the sun for the time being. I'd always thought of Colorado as being all snow and cold, but apparently during the summer temperatures rose as high as ninety degrees in some areas. Looks like my plans to get a sun-kissed tan the natural way were still a possibility.

Losing Asher in the crowded hall, I turned my attention to the other girls. “What do you think?” I asked Jasmine, Sascha, and Jinx. We got into line behind a few guys who were waiting to be checked in. One of the boys, a cute blond around our age, glanced back to check us out. Almost instantly, Sascha began to move around like she was posing for the mental pictures he was no doubt taking.

Uh, oh
. It looked like we were already losing Sascha to the boys at camp.

“I think that if I have to share a room for the next month with
this
, I might have to perform an exploding spell—on
myself
,” Jasmine growled as she motioned to Sascha, who was only slightly paying attention on account of her new crush.

As the guy turned back to his friend, Sascha finally realized that Jasmine had been talking about her and folded her arms across her chest defensively.

“Oh, no. What happened?” I asked, almost scared to hear it.

“Somebody decided Sascha should be let out of her cage,” Jasmine said dryly.

“Look who's talking,” Sascha said, irritated. “How'd you fit your coffin in the overhead bin?”

“Whoa, seriously, what's going on here, guys?” I asked, more than a little impressed with Sascha's ability to dish it back to Jasmine. Few people dared go up against the goth girl. Not if they didn't want a target on their back, that is.

“They fought the whole car ride about whether Heidi Klum is really just a genetic experiment funded by the beauty industry to make women feel inferior and men feel inadequate,” Jinx said, clearly not taking any sides in their argument.

“And who won?” I asked, glad that the two had been sitting in the far back of the van and I hadn't had to listen to their bickering.

“I did!” both girls said in unison.

“Okay . . . ,” I said, thankful to be saved by the registration table that had just opened up in front of us. A man sat there and motioned for me to come to him so he wouldn't have to yell. “Hi! I'm Hadley Bishop and I'm checking in.”

The man in front of me had dark brown hair that was thinning on top, leaving little spots of exposed skin that the lights above would periodically reflect off. He was dressed in a faded green T-shirt that read
BRIGHTON INTENSIVE,
MAKING MAGIC SINCE
1864. His '70s-style mustache made him look more like he belonged at a dude ranch than a witch cabin in the woods. As far as temperament went, his was the exact opposite of Miss Peggy's.

“Group name,” he barked, without returning my greeting or smile.

Rude
.

“Um, the Cleri?” I said, taken aback by his total lack of communication skills. It was sort of an important thing to have if you were in the business of being around actual
people
. But I deduced that now wasn't the time to let him in on this little fact.

“Bishop. Ah, yes, here you are. You'll be rooming with one Abby Astley and one Colette Jordan,” he said.

“There's someone else in our room?” I asked, surprised to hear this, considering we'd requested it just be the two of us. “But we asked for a double.”

“There are only a select amount of doubles and they typically go to returning members or those who require special treatment,” he said, completely unapologetic about it.