Devious Magic (#3 Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series) Read online

  “Are there any kinds of spells we can do?” I asked as I glanced back over my shoulder to include Étoile in the question.

  “Not my speciality. Now, if David were here, that would be a possibility,” replied Étoile, reminding us that David, and his girlfriend Seren, had gone home months earlier. David was Kitty’s and my spell craft teacher while we were ensconced in a safe house, far from the Brotherhood’s reach. Kitty had never really taken to spells but I did. Under David’s tutelage I learned the rudiments of practising spells and the necessary ingredients for success.

  I could weave simple spells now, like the wards that surrounded my house, protecting us from anyone who would do us harm. Anything more complicated, however, was beyond my capabilities.

  When it came to magic, I was of the blood variety. Magic swam freely through my veins and was always an intrinsic part of my existence, just like my heart or brain. Although I once viewed my magic as a curse, now I could rein it properly, I couldn’t imagine being without it. It would be like losing one of my senses: debilitating but not deadly.

  Glancing at the mantelpiece where I had a small clutter of photos, my eyes rested on the white envelope I stored there for safekeeping. It was a wedding invitation for David and Seren’s wedding in late summer and I was really looking forward to it. Étoile, as Seren’s sister, was going to be maid of honour.

  “Magic sucks,” I muttered.

  “What about the spell book?” Kitty started tentatively, shrinking a little when three pairs of eyes turned on her. “The one you showed me.”

  The spell book was on loan to me but it was a weird, temperamental thing. I’d almost finished reading it when it disappeared. A few days ago, I took a call from the family it belonged to saying it had reappeared at their house; they thanked me for its return.

  “Not an option,” I said, knowing Kitty would know what that meant. She muttered something rude about the book under her breath, possibly because it had always eluded her grasp.

  “Never mind. Some cards came while you were out.” Kitty went to pick up a small stack from the little console table we had by the door. It was constantly cluttered with keys, mail and coins.

  I took the stack with a “thanks” and started to slice them open while my mind provided a bunch of scenarios for what the Brotherhood were planning. I felt uneasy having them in my town, my hometown, but it wasn’t like I could march over there and demand they leave. They were all about the waiting game. It felt strange to be taking a lesson from their notebook; I would have to be patient too.

  The first envelope I opened held a card from Seren and David. It was covered in pretty little flowers that floated off the card and hung in the air before dropping back to the card again like confetti. It was unexpected and very, very sweet.

  There was a card from my old friend Marc Bartholomew, too, which was a surprise. I hadn’t expected him to remember, much less, send a card. The last time we’d seen each other had been a horrible experience, though neither of our faults. I imagined neither one of us wanted to remember that. On a positive note, it was also the same time Marc got his magic back, after a lifetime of being illicitly bound.

  A piece of folded paper tucked inside the card slipped out and I unfolded it. It was a note from Marc, brief, like he wasn’t one for letter writing. It just said he was looking forward to seeing me at the summit and getting a chance to talk. He said he missed me and hoped we were all well. He didn’t mention his magic at all, nor what he was doing now. I flipped over the envelope. The postmark was smudged but, all the same, I wondered if he had gone home. All in all, it was a short and sweet note that gave me a smile. My smile, however, faltered slightly when my eyes flicked back to “summit.” I frowned. What was that about?

  Both cards went on the mantelpiece amongst my framed photographs, Marc’s note too, along with a silly musical card from Kitty and Étoile. A shiny blue one with ‘Happy Birthday’ in big letters from Evan and dozens of kisses inside made Kitty coo and me blush.

  Turning the third envelope over in my hand, I frowned. It was more business-like than the others, in a soft manila shade with my name in neat type. Maybe it was a bill. What a pain. I opened it anyway and withdrew the card inside, flipping it open. It wasn’t a birthday card, or a bill. It was a summons.

  “What is it?” asked Kitty.

  Without looking up, I replied, “I’ve been invited to attend the Council summit.”

  “Why?”

  I scanned the neat type. “They are ready to elect a new leader. Did you know about this, Étoile?”

  Étoile nodded. “I got my invite too.”

  “I don’t think you should go,” interjected Evan, before she could say anymore. His forehead knitted into a frown as he came over to stand by me, reading the invitation over my shoulder. When it came to witches, my boyfriend had mixed feelings. He loved me and tolerated Étoile, although he now counted her as a friend. He seemed to like Kitty well enough, and included my warlock friend, David Langstrom, among his friends, but that was as far as it went. It was mostly a trust thing. Evan was daemon, not exactly your average witch’s best friend, and certainly formidable to have as an enemy.

  Such prejudices meant nothing to me. I loved Evan unreservedly. I knew he loved me too, and it wasn’t just that he told me every day but I could see it in the sacrifices he made to stay with me. Although he travelled home to Texas regularly to confer with his employees face-to-face, I knew he was getting agitated about being so hands-off in his business. I was starting to worry that my desire to stay in Wilding wasn’t going to be good for us, long term.

  One day soon, I was going to have to make a decision, or offer some kind of compromise. I couldn’t continue to let Evan do all the running for me. I wasn’t being fair, and I knew it. The thought of it made me feel awful, but there were more pressing things at hand, as usual.

  “It’s a summit. Étoile’s going.” I knew I sounded petulant, but it slipped out anyway. I didn’t have many dealings with the witch community but I got the gossip drip-fed to me by Étoile and Seren, and even Kitty, if the dirt were particularly juicy. I’d always been hesitant to get further involved, especially while the Council was in such disorder from lack of leadership. Maybe it would have been different if I’d grown up knowing I was a witch, and understanding the subtle nuances and hierarchy of the community. Instead, I’d been launched into it, full pelt, a year ago. While I was taking to magic well, I didn’t think the magical community was taking to me quite as favourably.

  “Étoile is stronger than you and she’s been around this all her life. It could get dangerous,” Evan sensibly pointed out. “Some of the witches have been getting out of line lately. You’ve seen that.”

  “If I don’t get with the magic programme, I’m never going to learn.” I threw back even though I was still undecided. “Plus, how dangerous can it get?”

  “Georgia Thomas will be there.” Étoile looked a little pale.

  “Oh.” That dangerous. Well, that made things a little different. “Who’s with me for cake?” I asked, pinning a smile on my face.

  ***

  Settling into the desk chair in the little office Evan helped me set up in the sun room (or not-a-lot-of-sunroom as we currently called it), I switched on my laptop. I leaned back on the cushioned seat while I waited for it to power up.

  A month ago, Seren and David had surprised me by calling up and offering me a job. Turns out, they’d had more than enough of being pushed and pulled around by the Council too, and decided to open up a small shop and online business together. They were primarily targeting the witch community, who often found it hard to source the kinds of herbs and ingredients they needed for spellcraft.

  Seren and David’s set-up was simple: a small shop that sold herbs, homemade potions, gifts and other mystical new age items like candles and crystals that catered to the foot crowd, the non-magical patrons. They set up a warehouse in the back, where they stored the herbs they sourced and then shipped to custome
rs, along with anything else the witch community requested.

  Once business started picking up, they realised they couldn’t keep up with the administration, as well as the shop maintenance and product sourcing so they hired me to deal with the admin.

  For a few hours a day, I answered customer queries or passed on emails to Seren or David if they were too complicated for me to answer. I arranged the orders for processing, as well as kept track of their website and stock levels. It wasn’t the most mentally taxing work I’d ever done, but they paid me a reasonable rate and were pretty flexible with my hours, so it worked out well. Most of all, I just loved the feeling of being productive again, as well as earning my own money. It would help pay for college, once I’d picked some classes.

  My job, combined with my daily runs, often with Evan or a wolf at my side, ensured I was feeling fitter than ever, although my magic lessons might have had something to do with that too. I certainly felt more in tune with my inner witch. The strange things I once caused were very rare now, so rare, I never had to worry about them. My magic came to me easily now that I understood I wasn’t merely controlling it; I was allowing it to be part of me.

  To drown out the little voice in my head that wanted to know everything about the Brotherhood (right now!), I concentrated on answering the small overnight flurry of emails. Seren and David’s business was doing well and they were attracting witches from all over America, as well as further afield. Just last week, I’d seen orders from Canada, Australia and even Italy. I always kept an eye out for any orders from England, but, so far, saw nothing.

  I made my way through the orders quickly, compiling them all before I emailed the documents to David’s inbox for packing and shipping. So far, they were doing everything between the three of us but, if business improved, I hoped they would hire someone else to help them out. That job done, I checked the website to make sure all the text and images were showing up properly. After adding some new images and copy for the latest products they were stocking, I made sure the day’s books were in order, finally.

  Though I worked remotely, we’d agreed that every few weeks or so I would make the journey up north to their shop and audit their files to keep them in order. They may be witches, but the IRS still wanted to see decent records and that was my very human responsibility.

  I was looking forward to going, even if it meant leaving Evan behind for a couple of days. Since he’d arrived in Wilding, we’d spent every day together and I was happily used to him being in such close proximity. Sometimes, however, it was an adjustment to share my daily life with another person, not to mention Étoile and Kitty, too.

  Next to me, the cordless house phone trilled, jolting me out of my thoughts. I picked it up on the third ring.

  “Happy birthday!” Seren’s voice filled my ear. “I only have one question, why are you working? And don’t say you’re not. I can see you online.”

  “Just making sure I keep up. I want to win employee of the week.”

  Seren laughed. “Honey, you’re employee of the week, every week. Now stop! I don’t want you to do another thing. Oh, David, wants to say something.”

  “Happy birthday, Stella,” David’s voice came on the line. “Did you like our card?”

  “Yes, it was beautiful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, and stop working. Boss’ orders.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  A knock sounded on the door just as I hung up and Étoile stuck her head around. We hadn’t had a chance to talk privately since she left abruptly a week ago. In typical Étoile fashion, she hadn’t been totally clear. “Hey. How are things?”

  “Okay,” I said, thinking that said nothing and everything. “Where have you been?”

  “New York.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t expected her to answer, as she’d been so cagey when she left, but it surprised me that she had been in the city that was her other home. Étoile told me once that she had an apartment there, though I’d never been, and she had previously worked in finance in the city before the Council and her family took over her life. “What were you doing there?”

  “I’ll tell you about it another time.” That was Étoile all over: strictly need to know.

  “Sure.”

  Étoile pulled the door closed and leant against the frame, her arms folded. “The Brotherhood being here is bad news, Stella. Even if you don’t go to England, and I really recommend that you don’t, they can come back any time. They can leave people here to watch over you, maybe even infiltrate your life a little bit at a time and you won’t even know it. And it’s not just you, Stella, they’re a risk to Kitty, to me, to Seren and David. They could use you to get to any one of us.”

  “I know,” I said, feeling a little sick because it had already occurred to me. “I know.”

  “Evan will go to the ends of the earth to guard you and ensure your safety, but what about when he’s not around?” she asked. “The wolves have also extended their protection, but will it last if they start getting picked off? I mean, no disrespect to Gage, Annalise or any of the pack, but none of us can guarantee their loyalty in the face of death.”

  “Isn’t this what all the lessons have been about?” I asked. “So I can protect myself? So I’m not a burden on any of you?”

  “Oh, Stella, you’re not a burden. Please don’t think that you are. I just want to keep you safe.”

  “And think about leaving?”

  “Temporarily,” she said. “We could go to New York, or you could go to Texas with Evan. Just for a little while, just long enough that they don’t look for you here anymore.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. In the meantime....”

  “You don’t have to say it. I won’t be going anywhere alone.”

  “Keep Evan with you at all times, or Gage. Either of them would be a match for the Brotherhood. I’m glad I came home when I did.” I think Étoile was as surprised as I was when I heard her call my house “home,” but I let it slide. She’d only brush it off anyway. Nevertheless, I was glad she felt comfortable here. She’d been my mentor as long as she’d been my friend and I didn’t like to think of what she might have sacrificed to stay with me. What she and Evan both sacrificed.

  Perhaps that made me selfish, but it wasn’t like I had many friends when growing up. I’d actually been pretty lonely and, for the most part, I thoroughly enjoyed having a houseful now. My heart panged at the thought of losing them all, or of us splitting up again.

  Étoile gave me a little wave and stepped back through the door, sliding it closed behind her.

  Turning back to my laptop, I ran through the few emails that had come through while Étoile and I were talking. Then I emailed Seren and David, filling them in on anything they needed to know before I closed that window, calling it a day on work.

  Opening a new window, I scrolled through my watch list. Since I’d gotten my laptop and had the world at my fingertips, I’d been keeping a cursory eye on the Brotherhood’s news appearances. No one seemed to know who really ran the organisation, but they had a surprising amount of supporters. There were message boards and websites dedicated to their cause: denouncing witches, speculating on who might be one. There were a few Hollywood actors, singers and politicians with bizarre claims of witchcraft attached to them. Apparently, dark magic was the source of their success, said one conspiracy website which ran a gallery of images of suspected witches.

  On the other side, there were a lot of people who thought the Brotherhood were deranged. They also believed there was no such thing as magic and called the whole thing crazy. Like many things, both sides had a portion of the truth, but they were too diametrically opposed to even consider piecing together the jigsaw in unison.

  The media was just as bad. Witches and serial killers made great stories and there was much speculation and comparison drawn from the witch-hunts of several hundred years ago. People had even written scholarly papers for science journals claiming or disproving e
vidence in support of their theories.

  Today was mostly the same old, same old: ranting conspiracy theorists, badly spelled urgings from people hiding behind nicknames, and some sicker posts about what some would like to do to female witches. I grimaced and scrolled post those quickly before I lost my lunch.

  I moved on to one of the more moderate websites that focused more on the discussion of whether magic existed or not. A lot of conspiracy theorists abounded here too, but at least, it was a lot tamer than the other websites.

  I read for ten minutes before a comment, buried deep in a rant about Hollywood covens – dear Lord – caught my eye and I leaned in closer to read it again. It read: I gotta ask, how are these people funded? It must take a lot of work to hunt down witches so it’s not like they have full time jobs or whatever. And if it is all true, it’s still murder, right? Why aren’t these people being prosecuted?

  “Very good questions,” I said to the screen. I just wish I had the answers. For one thing, I wanted to know how they were funded. Did the Brotherhood have financiers or sponsors? If so, those people had to be sick individuals or more closely entwined with magic than any of us had even fathomed.

  Secondly, the murders had garnered a lot of press coverage, mostly in Europe where they were more numerous. I could browse the newspapers online so, every once in a while, I searched through them, but the reports had become more infrequent during the past few months and dwindled to almost nothing, as no new murders arose.

  Despite the extensive coverage throughout Europe, no arrests had ever been made, no suspects brought in for questioning. That led me to thinking other unpalatable thoughts. Did the police from every country where a murder had taken place really discover so little that they had no suspects? Or were they willing to turn a blind eye? If the latter were true, someone high up must hate witches so much they were prepared to allow people to hunt them. Perhaps I was just reading too many conspiracies. Despite that, when I closed the browser, I shivered.