Trial by Fire (Covencraft Book 1) (14 page)

Yet.

Paris made a sort of ‘hmph’ sound that came across as prissy and annoyed. “I want to have a look at the spells you performed.”

“I can tell you exactly what I did.”

He held up a hand. “Don’t,” he said warningly. “God only knows what would happen in a … Restaurant,” he used the word grudgingly, “full of people. I don’t want to see anyone disappear from their table and reappear on the grill in the back. Besides, I need to see the spells verbatim.”

“I know them verbatim,” Jade declared. “I’ve a photographic memory.”

“Truly?” he questioned in his oh-so-British way.

“For printed material, yeah. Not so much for stuff I see or hear. But if I read it, I’ll remember it.”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Jade looked up from where she was trying to wrestle her burger into her hands without squishing the contents of the middle out and all over her tray and caught him staring at her. She sucked special sauce off one of her thumbs.

“I guess.” She shrugged. “What did you do all day?”

She got the impression he was trying not to bore her as he told her about his day but it was kind of a total snore fest. She didn’t know the people he was talking about, nor the departments, and couldn't tell if this was considered a normal day or was out of the ordinary in any fashion. The only thing that kept her from being completely bored was that Paris clearly loved his job. It was the most animated she had ever seen him and his passion for his work came across in his narrative, keeping her interested and invested. He seemed to realize half way through his explanation of the new accounting system for amortizing assets that he was getting a little carried away with the minutiae.

“Well, I suppose it sounds all very tedious and monotonous, but it’s my job.” Paris took a long pull on his milkshake.

“I get it,” Jade offered. “My job is interesting to me too, but telling people you work in statistical analysis is usually a conversation killer.”

He gave her a quick smile and she felt pleased that she had managed to pull one from him. Jade fiddled with the straw of her drink, at a loss for what to say next.

She jerked her chin at his empty salad bowl. “So, have I made you a fast food convert?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “I think the grease in the air is permeating its way into my bones as we speak.”

She laughed at the distaste and disdain in his voice. “You just wait. It’s like a drug. Now that I’ve dragged you in here once, sometime next week, in the middle of the day, you’ll find yourself craving it.” She leaned forward a bit, “The first time was free, but you’ll have to pay for yourself from now on.” Jade winked at him and felt rewarded when he laughed. She balled up her napkins and tossed them on the tray. “Okay, we better get you out of here before your delicate sensibilities become overwhelmed.”

Paris folded his paper napkin carefully and placed it precisely on the tray, setting his plastic bowl on top. Jade wanted to take a picture of his pristine pile of garbage next to her mashed up wrappers and condiment packages. She made a move to grab his milkshake and put it on the tray as well but he quickly snatched it out of her reach.

“I’m not done with it yet,” he said defensively and she held up her hands in surrender, taking the tray and pushing the rest of the garbage into the bin. She tried to hide her smile the whole way out of the restaurant as she watched him cradle his milkshake close, taking another long pull on the straw as they left.

He’d totally be back within the week.

*

Paris sat at the desk in his study and stared at the phone. He had dropped Jade off an hour ago and had been thinking about calling Hannah ever since.

Sometimes he didn’t know why Hannah had parted ways with the Coven, leaving him in charge, to take a council seat when every time he had a sticky problem he ended up calling her.

Cursing under his breath, Paris picked up the phone and dialed. He needed her advice, needed her opinion.

“Hello, Paris.”

Hannah had been saying his name the same way, with the same tone, for as long as he could remember. Even now, through the phone, over the distance, he was reminded of being a curious boy, watching her and his mother at the kitchen table, working spells, pretending they didn’t notice him spying.

“Hello, Hannah.”

“What seems to be bothering you?”

“Are you using your witchcraft on me?” Paris joked and she laughed.

“Hardly. I love you dearly but you tend to call only when something is wrong.”

“That’s not - Hannah…” He protested, feeling all of seven years old suddenly.

“You can feel bad about it later. Tell me your troubles.”

Paris sighed, taking comfort in her matter of fact tone. He’d been relying on her since his mother died and turned the Coven over to him. He was too young and it should have gone to Hannah - she was the most powerful witch, the longest-lived of them all, but she’d always steadfastly refused the position. Instead, the Coven had fallen to Paris and at times he felt like he’d been fumbling his way through it ever since.

“Our new witch, Jade-” He began.

“Ah yes. Jade. I was wondering when you would call about her,” Hannah said, her voice slightly teasing over the phone.

“Why? What do you know?”

“If it were up to you, I wouldn’t know anything. You haven’t called, haven’t emailed, haven’t so much as sent a smoke signal up to tell me about her. Lucky for me, it isn’t up to you.”

“I still don’t know how you manage to stay so well informed, given the fact that you’re never here.”

Hannah snorted, a decidedly unladylike sound that he never got used to hearing from her. “I don’t know why you think the entire coven isn’t full of gossips. They’re worse than schoolchildren at times - living in each other’s back pockets and practically on top of one another.”

“And what are the gossips saying?”

“A lot of talk about her power. And if Henri were straight, he’d marry her.”

“I can name at least four other women he feels the same about,” Paris replied.

“Yes, but this time I think he’s serious,” Hannah said lightly and then she paused. “But as I said, a lot of talk about power.”

Paris sighed. It was what he called her to talk about so he supposed it was as good a segue as any. “I know. I’m… Worried.”

Like his mother, Hannah knew when to stay silent and let him gather his thoughts. She didn’t say anything, waiting patiently until he spoke again.

“If she decides not to stay, if she wants to leave, I don’t think I can break her magic,” he said finally. “Not without…,” he trailed off, avoiding the potential, tragic truth.

“Not without killing her,” Hannah finished for him, her words steady and even.

Paris blew out a breath. “No. Not without killing her. She’s strong, Hannah. Stronger than I expected. Stronger than nearly everyone in the Coven, I think. I don’t know how I would be able to break her magic without killing her.”

“Does she not like the Coven?”

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “She just arrived. She seems to like it enough but it’s all still new and impressive.”

“Has she said anything about not wanting to stay?”

“No,” he hedged. “Nothing like that. She seems very interested and she’s certainly shown an aptitude for magic. Although frankly, she’s got so much power that it’s like using an axe to cut cake. All she has to do is swing in the general direction and she’s done.” He shifted in his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment tightly. “I don’t even know if I should be the one teaching her.”

“If anyone can show her how to manage that magnitude of power, along with the measures of control and discipline it takes, it’s you.”

The confidence in Hannah’s voice scared and calmed him simultaneously. He was humbled by her faith in him.

She continued, “And if you want to know how she feels about staying, as I’ve been telling you since you were little - when you want to know what someone’s thinking, just ask. You’ll save yourself a world of heartache and uncertainty.”

“Yes, I know. You’re right,” he said, still feeling seven years old.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Hannah chided. “You know I’m getting on in my years and I can’t be sure I heard you correctly.”

“You have better hearing than a bat and we both know it,” Paris said, feeling a rush of warmth when she laughed. “But I will humor you. You are right.”

“Thank you, dear. Now, on a more serious note, I will make some inquires with some powerful witches in other covens. Although frankly, I don’t hold out much hope. Very few people can match you, and I doubt anyone can equal your conviction or your control. If you can’t break her power without killing her, I don’t know if anyone can.”

“I thought as much,” he said quietly.

“I’ll see if I can do a little research as well. One of the more reclusive covens is angling to have their voice heard on the Council and they’ve a number of grimoires I’ve wanted to get a peek at. Perhaps I can bargain some kind of trade. You never know what may be hidden in those spell-books.”

“Thank you, Hannah.” Even though she hadn’t been able to assuage his fears, he felt better for speaking with her.

“Of course the best option is simply to convince her to stay. As I said before, you can be quite charming when you try.”

Paris held back a laugh. “It sounds a little disreputable when you say it like that.”

“I’m not telling you to have sex with her, just be friendly,” she admonished.

“Jesus, Hannah!” Paris choked, feeling a blush heat his face. He’d rather have dental work than have this conversation with her.

“I can hear you having an aneurysm from here.”

“It’s quite late, I should go.”

Again she snorted. “Charming though you can be, you’re a terrible liar. I won’t hold you hostage on the phone and make you talk about unspeakable things.”

“Thank you,” he breathed with relief.

“I’ll let you know if I find anything. Just… Don’t borrow trouble thinking about what might happen. All it does it put a bug in the ear of the fates.”

“All right, Hannah. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Paris hung up the phone and had a bit of a chuckle as he stared down at it. Only Hannah could make him blush like a schoolboy. He shook his head.

She was right. He was borrowing trouble where none existed, but he couldn’t curb his apprehension. The entire situation was strange and bizarre. They could find no other references to a witch being born outside a coven. Yes, witches lived outside of covens, or left their covens, or lost their magic. But no one had heard of one being born outside of a coven.

The suspicious side of him wondered what else was lurking out there that they’d never heard of either.

Chapter 7

She had to stop eating out.

Jade was sprawled on the couch with her laptop, where she’d been since Paris dropped her off. She looked down at her stomach and came to the realization: she really had to stop eating out. As much as she loved fast food, that had been her fifth meal out in two days. Not good.

Tomorrow! Tomorrow she would make her own food, pack a lunch.

When she realized what she’d just promised herself, she made a face.
I hate packing lunches
.

After kicking off her shoes, not caring that they went akimbo in the hallway, she made her way to the kitchen to check on the state of lunch-able groceries.

Her neck tingled slightly and she looked around at the remains of her earlier spell-casting. She cleaned up the confetti, the rocks, put the coffee cup in the dishwasher and emptied the pots of water.

Yes, she still felt magic in the air – like an overdose of cologne or perfume after their wearer had left the room.

She thought, perhaps, cleaning the mess would help disperse the after-scent, but apparently not. Jade studied her counter with a frown and then closed her eyes for a moment, trying to pinpoint where the energy originated from.

Oh, right. The pantry.

Now that she looked over at it, acknowledged it, she could easily sense it as the center of the magic she felt. Jade stepped closer and found she got a sharper, stronger feeling off the pantry the closer she got.

It felt heavy, dense. Thick. Like deep, dark molasses coming from the fridge. Sludgy.
It feels stronger than it did earlier
, she thought. Before it had been a little lighter, more airy. She had gone over all the spells she’d cast with Paris over dinner and he didn’t have a clue how she’d managed to create… Whatever it was in her pantry. Paris had warned her sternly about performing magic on her own, a couple ‘don’t you dare’s’ and one ‘I mean it, Jade’ before stating that he would contact their Council witch, Hannah to see if she could sort it out.

Despite that, Jade found herself pulling the pantry door open and staring in. It still looked normal and innocuous enough, but the thick sensation intensified. Became unpleasant. She no longer had the urge to be curious and toss things in like she had before. Instead Jade found herself shutting the door firmly. She eyed one of the nearby chairs, thinking about putting it in front, jamming it up underneath the doorknob.