Warlock Brothers of Havenbridge 01 - Spell Bound (5 page)

But why was that exactly? I typically didn’t give a flying fuck about most people, magical or otherwise. What was it about this jackrabbit douche bag that intrigued me so much? It wasn’t just his lean body, gorgeous eyes, or fantastic hair. If this were purely physical, I could understand that. He was a hot guy.

And I was more than particularly hard up. I hadn’t had a good make-out session since last Samhain.

But with Drake, it seemed to be much more than that, and I had no clue why.

“We’re here,” my father said as he parked. He turned around in his seat and glared at me. “And do your best to behave yourself, okay?”

I nodded. Dad was right. I had to stay focused on our duties. Drake was going to have to wait.

We exited the Jaguar and strolled down the sidewalk, which ended at a two-story Victorian-style home. Dad had told us many years ago that it was Folk Victorian. I didn’t really care. The house was pretty but simple, certainly nothing like the sprawling elegance of our place.

A covered porch with a beige-painted wood railing stood at the center of the house, tucked between two bay windows on either side. Gray shingles decorated the second story of the house all the way to the cornice that eventually formed two gables, one each to the left and right of the porch. They were as sharp in design as a stereotypical witch’s hat. No doubt the white-magic Debbie Downers like Miranda Proctor hated that part of the architecture.

But this house wasn’t where witches or their white magic lived. It belonged to the Stonewalls, wizards of the Order of the Gray. They sought balance above all else, and their magic and their lives were ruled by devotion to stability and order. It was even reflected in their style of house.

“I hate coming to these things,” I said as we drew nearer to the front door. The drone of dozens of voices merged into a constant buzz as a strange brew of magical beings mixed inside. “They’re so dull. I’d rather french-kiss Miranda.”

Pierce snorted while Thad remained distant. He had yet to forgive me for sending him flying across the lawn. “Yes, well, as much as I’m sure you’d enjoy kissing a girl, this is what we do,” my father said as he ascended the four wooden steps to the porch. “Mabon is an equinox and ruled by gray magic.”

Like I didn’t know that already. Mabon was a time to give thanks for what we had and honor the darker aspects of life, calling upon that which was devoid of light. Through meditation, communing, and giving, we celebrated the balance by which the world survived. “But the Stonewalls are so boring.”

My father spun around on his heels.

“You’ve done it again,” Pierce whispered after an impatient sigh. Thad simply chuffed in contempt.

“Mason, why do you feel the need to provoke me and question every part of our culture? Of our species’ tradition? You may not embrace your magic the way the rest of us do, but we have been blessed, and part of that blessing is being thankful for that gift, whether it’s for gray magic and Mabon, the white magic of Ostara, or the black magic of Samhain.”

I twisted my lips in regret. Apologizing never came easy for a Blackmoor. Thankfully, father understood the gesture.

He leaned in closer to the three of us, an impish grin lighting on his lips before he sighed. “I agree with you about the Stonewalls, though,” he whispered. “They’re bland and tiresome, but they are a protector coven, as we are, and we have to work within the laws to which we are all bound, right?” When we all nodded in unison, he smiled and straightened. “Besides, no one can be as badass or awesome as us.”

I grinned in reply while Pierce pumped his right fist in the air and hooted. Thad, who always looked as if he felt like he was wasting his time when his nose wasn’t buried in books, crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

Suddenly the door opened. Miranda stood at the threshold, wearing a white button-down blouse and floral skirt. She nodded respectfully at my father and thinned her lips at my brothers. When her gaze settled on me, she frowned. “You’re almost late,” she mumbled under her breath, then waved a finger at the door. It opened all the way, causing the droning voices to spill out onto the porch.

“Almost late isn’t late,” my father replied. He walked past her without another word and my brothers trailed him inside.

When I attempted to follow suit, she stepped in front of the door.

“Move it or lose it,” I grumbled as she flipped her chestnut-colored hair off her shoulder.

“Or what? You’re going to turn yourself into a roach again?”

I rolled my eyes. “That news is about as tired as I am of looking at you.”

“Ooh. Burn,” she said, mocking my attempt to insult her.

“If it’s you on the stake, then I’m there.”

“Will you two stop it?” someone behind Miranda asked.

It was her older sister, Charlotte, who was home from school for the weekend festivities. She wore the same white blouse as her sister. It was the standard Proctor uniform, it seemed. But unlike Miranda, who had a sultry appearance with her perfect, rosy lips and long, straight hair, Charlotte had a more understated beauty. She didn’t care about her appearance like Miranda did. Her clothes swallowed her petite frame, and her short dark brown bangs made her look fifteen instead of eighteen. Since she wasn’t as annoying as Miranda, I could tolerate her in small doses.

“I’d love to,” I said to Charlotte, who moved her sister aside. “But Miranda gets her jollies by making my life miserable.”

“Everyone needs a hobby,” Miranda said as she walked away.

Charlotte closed the door behind me, and together we cut through the crowd of magical families, who were chatting only with other members of their order. Sticking with our own kind was the standard operating procedure ever since we first evolved as a species. Only the protector covens could mix when necessary, but we usually kept to our own too. But on this Sabbat, covens of all orders across the northeastern part of the state traveled to Havenbridge for the festivities and a chance to be in our presence.

We were celebrities in the magical world.

“Greetings, Mason Blackmoor.” It was Leopold Edwell, a fellow warlock who lived across the river in Salem. He was short and squat and reminded me of the Penguin from the Batman comics. His wife, Agnes, stood at his side, her contempt hidden behind a thin smile. The Edwell family was richer than we were, but they envied our status. They were among the few families considered by the Council of Black back in the seventeenth century to become the chosen protector coven for our order, and to this day, every single member of the Edwell coven resented the Blackmoors for our blessing.

“Greetings, Mr. and Mrs. Edwell,” I replied with a bow of respect. He returned the gesture, though he silently seethed.

“Does your family take crap from other white-magic covens?” I asked Charlotte after we left the Edwells and their group of friends.

She frowned. “You should know better than that. Our order doesn’t engage in such pettiness.”

Charlotte was right. I
should
have known better. Witches prided themselves on being practically perfect in every way. Fucking Mary Poppins wannabes! “Then explain your sister to me. She seems to get off on it.”

She shook her head. “If I could explain Miranda, I would. But I’ve given up trying to understand her. Every family has a black sheep.”

I couldn’t argue with that. In my family, that was me.

“Heya, Mason.” Adam Proctor cut through the crowd to stand along the back wall with his sister and me. Like Charlotte, Adam wore a white button-down shirt and went out of his way to say hello. I believed he did that to piss off Pierce. The two of them loathed each other to excess. It went beyond even the usual white- and black-magic animosity that typically existed between our two orders. Unlike most of the others gathered here tonight, I didn’t instantly dislike the other factions. I busted their chops because that was who I was. Take it or leave it.

In order for me to hate you, you had to earn it. Like Miranda. And now perhaps even Drake. He was well on his way to being at the top of my shit list.

Other than that, I didn’t fall into the magical cliques everyone else stuck to. I did my own thing, and it upset my family to no end.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?”

Adam’s question pulled me out of my thoughts. “Of course,” I said before holding out my hand. “How’s your last year of grad school?”

The smile on his lips practically made him glow as he shook my hand. “Pretty wonderful,” he said. “I’ve met lots of great people, but it’s still tough being away from home. I’m sure Thad says the same thing.”

I chuckled. “My bookworm brother talks to his dusty old books more than he does to me.”

Adam laughed. “Yeah. He’s always in the library, and he’s usually alone.”

They went to the same school. “Doesn’t surprise me at all.”

He gazed out of the corner of his eye at Charlotte, who smiled knowingly at him. “Um, I wanted to, uh, ask you something,” he said between sputters.

“What’s that?”

Why was Adam so nervous all of a sudden? An uncertain smile tugged at his lips as he raked his fingers through his light brown hair, which was cut short and tight at the sides but longer and looser on top. When he couldn’t get the words out, I looked back and forth between him and Charlotte. “What’s going on here?”

She snickered. “What my speechless big brother is trying to ask you is—”

Adam cut his gaze to her, and she stopped. “Charlotte, I can do this.”

“Well, then do it,” she said with a Cheshire grin.

Adam had let loose a long exhalation in preparation to speak when the clinking of a fork against crystal cut through the crowd.

Everyone turned to the front of the room where Lawrence and Rachel Stonewall stood. Like my family and the Proctors, the Stonewalls were one of the three protector covens. Even though they were boring as all get-out, they were a striking couple. Mr. Stonewall’s bright smile gleamed against his mocha skin, which stood in contrast to Mrs. Stonewall’s pale and delicate features. “Greetings and blessings to you all.”

“Greetings and blessings to you,” we all responded.

Mrs. Stonewall held her husband’s hand. “Let’s head outside and begin.”

We filed into the backyard, and everyone immediately formed a huge circle in the middle of the lawn. After we were all in place, we turned to face the east.

“All hail the Watchtower of the East,” we said, reciting the prayer that would evoke the elements, which gave us our powers. “The element of air, I do summon you forth to guard and protect this circle. Be here now.”

When a warm breeze blew through the yard, the Stonewalls’ eldest, Edith, walked to the center of the circle. She carried a candle with her. She blew across the wick, which suddenly danced with flame.

We continued calling the elements. After air came fire, after fire was water, and the last was earth. After each invocation, one of the four Stonewall children stepped into the circle and lit the candle in their hands.

When it was Mrs. Stonewall’s turn, she proceeded toward her children and joined their circle, carrying a much larger candle. Their bodies formed the human pentagram that was needed to invoke the fifth and most powerful element of them all.

“Spirit, the quintessence,” we said. “You are the bridge between the physical and the spiritual. Your touch binds us today as it did when you first gifted us with the essence of the Gate, creating the Spellbringer, the first of our kind. We summon you forth to guard and protect this circle. Be here now.”

As on Sabbats past, I suddenly felt as if I were flying. The fifth element had arrived. We had the blessings and the protection of the Five.

We then joined hands. I held onto Charlotte’s right while Adam held mine. He rubbed his index finger over the back of my hand and smiled. What the hell was going on with him?

Mr. Stonewall launched into prayer. As head and high priest of his family, the duty fell to him to lead us in thanks. “We celebrate the balance of Mabon, equal hours of light and darkness. For all that is bad, there is good. For despair, there is hope. For pain, there are moments of pleasure. For all that falls, there is the chance to rise again. May we find balance in our lives as we find it in our hearts.”

“And so shall it be,” we all answered.

The candles flickered out, and for a moment we stood under the starlit sky. In a few minutes, the candles would relight and the ritual would be over. We could then eat, commune, and go our separate ways for the evening.

But instead of flickering back to life, the candles erupted into columns of flame. Loud gasps and low murmurs followed. After the candles returned to their natural state, within the circle stood nine robed and hooded figures. Three were in black, three were in gray, and three were in white.

The Conclave, the ultimate authority of our species, was here. They never made personal appearances at celebrations. They instead watched all rituals from afar. What had brought them to Havenbridge?

S
HORTLY
AFTER
the Conclave’s arrival, the Mabon celebration abruptly ended, and all the guests left. Only the protector covens remained behind, and my father, Mr. and Mrs. Stonewall, and Mr. and Mrs. Proctor met with the Conclave inside.

I stood in the backyard with the rest of the kids, which is what we were basically considered. The only true children here were Keaton and Kate Stonewall. They were only twelve. It made perfect sense for them to be excluded. But the rest of us should have been in there. We ranged in age from eighteen to twenty-eight and were definitely
not
children.

Not that many of us seemed to mind. Keaton and Kate ran around their big brother and sister, Elliot and Edith, who sat cross-legged in the grass, meditating. Adam and Charlotte were carrying on what appeared to be a serious conversation that I couldn’t help but feel involved me somehow. They occasionally glanced over to me while they talked. Not even my brothers seemed bothered by what was going on. Pierce chatted on his cell with someone he was most likely banging while Thad sat on one of the swings, reading something on his phone.