Illicit Magic (Book 1, Stella Mayweather Series) by Camilla Chafer

CHAPTER TEN

  Breakfast was quiet with everyone critically appraising their cutlery or in a deep fug, rather than the usual morning chatter that mixed with the sounds of the coffee perking or the sizzle of Meg’s pans on the stove. I sat in the centre of it all, feeling strangely uncomforted despite being surrounded by my brethren, my sisters and brothers in arms. Wands, even. I stifled a slightly hysterical snigger. Under the table, I felt Evan’s hand press against my leg and I slipped my hand over his as David walked into the room. He rubbed his eyes and yawned widely before patting me on the head.

  Meg hovered around the table like a confused butterfly, every once in a while exclaiming “in my own house” or “well, I never” and sighing heavily. She baked muffins in several flavours but there wasn’t the usual vulture-like appetites that normally welcomed her sweet surprises; we picked at them morosely instead. Even the taste of warm chocolate chips melting on my tongue couldn’t cheer me up and that was definitely one of my go-to happy places. I almost felt guilty for waking everyone up until I gave myself a little internal kick and a reminder that I hadn’t asked to have my room rifled. And just who the hell had gotten into the house? It wasn’t just a case of jimmying a window or a lock. Wards protected the house too. Judging by their faces, I could only imagine everyone else must have been thinking the same thing.

  I stayed distracted all morning; my shimmering wouldn’t come under control and my one and only bout of telekinesis brought every single book from the library shelves crashing in a heap on the floor. Eventually, Evan, with a sweep of his hand, restored the library to its perfection again in a few seconds. He told me to take a walk in the garden and that we would try again in the afternoon.

  I didn’t have the heart to be disappointed in my failure as I went outside. I was just glad to have a free moment to think. In the back of my mind, I was calculating my few possessions and where they had been in my room before it was ransacked. My clothes were in the closet and the dresser, my little bits of jewellery on the top. A few items of makeup and toiletries were in the bathroom and they couldn’t possibly have been of significance so I discounted them immediately.

  The only things that I had that could possibly have been of interest were the contents of the blue box with the papers and deed my parents left me. My new driver’s license and bank card sat in the same drawer. But I checked the box and nothing seemed to be missing, not that I could remember an exact inventory.

  No, whoever had gone into my room uninvited had to have been looking for something else, something small that I might hide, but what? What could have been hidden under a mattress or in a loose floorboard or behind a chair? Think, I urged myself, think! It did no good; I just didn’t have anything to hide. Whatever the burglars had thought I might have of interest didn’t exist and I couldn’t put a finger on what they might have wanted. The only thing I could conclude was that they thought I had something that I hadn’t. Or maybe they weren’t looking for anything at all. A new thought stream pinged into my head. Maybe they just wanted to frighten me now as I’d begun to feel safe.

  Minutes later, another thought occurred to me. Perhaps they simply wanted me to know that they knew I hadn’t slept in my room that night. That worried me more than the idea that someone had been there to steal.

  Earlier, it had flickered through my head that if I had been there, perhaps I would have been dead by now,. But if the intention had been to kill me, there would have been no need to muss up my room. They would have seen my smooth bed was unoccupied and could have closed the door and gone without my being any the wiser.

  So if the break-in wasn’t to harm me, it left just three possibilities: They must have been searching for something they thought I had; or, they just wanted to let me know they had been there when I wasn’t; or, finally, they just wanted to frighten me. The first was perplexing, the second and third were just creepy.

  “I don’t know what to think,” I muttered, with only the flowers to hear me.

  I hadn’t really taken notice of where I was walking so when I ended up near the orchard that Meg was so proud of, I was a little surprised at my absentmindedness. All the same, I dropped onto the bench that overlooked the fruit trees so I could sit and ponder my unpalatable thoughts. The breeze was barely there but I could just smell the faintest hint of salty sea air. It seemed strange to find an orchard so close to the sea; Kitty’s weather magic must have a lot to do with the success of the fruit, I decided.

  Half an hour later, “You look lost in thought.” Evan thudded onto the bench beside me and slipped his arm around my shoulders to pull me close. I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t even noticed his footsteps – but then, maybe he’d used magic to locate me. I rested my head against his chest and listened to his heart beating.

  “I was trying to decide what ransacking my room would achieve.”

  “What did you come up with?” He was curious but I knew he was thinking about it too.

  “Three theories.” I repeated the two obvious ones to Evan and he nodded thoughtfully.

  “Both sound possible. What’s the third?”

  “Someone wanted to make sure that I knew that they knew that I wasn’t in my room that night. All night.” I emphasised.

  “You think someone knows about us?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “I’m not sure anyone would be that upset,” Evan replied. “Except Marc. He hasn’t decided whether he has a thing for you or not.”

  “I think not.” His words on the beach had been pretty clear and he hadn’t spoken to me much since he’d gotten back from New York. He hadn’t been at breakfast this morning either. It occurred to me that I barely even spared a thought for him either; especially not since the night I’d gone to Evan and been welcomed so pleasurably.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Evan sounded cautious and when I looked up, I followed his line of sight and saw Marc striding towards us. Evan slipped his arm away and stood up.

  “What do you...” but before he could finish, and before I could yelp, Marc had swung his arm back and brought his fist crashing into Evan’s jaw. Evan staggered backwards, knocking into me as I jumped up behind him. When he steadied himself, and made sure I was still upright, he gingerly felt his split chin with his fingers. As he pulled them away, there was a trickle of blood on both his chin and fingertips. He looked at the blood curiously.

  “What the hell, Marc!” I yelled, jumping forward. The energy surging in me suggested I knock him flat on his ass, or over the cliff edge.

  “You fucking scumbag,” snarled Marc, taking another swing, only to be glanced away like a fly as Evan casually raised his forearm to block the punch. Marc stood there, his fists curling and uncurling. “You couldn’t keep your hands off her for a minute?”

  “Hold on, kid.” Evan tore his gaze away from the blood drops and huffed. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was amused.

  “Hold on, kid?” Marc mimicked with a sneer. “How long has this been going on?” He waved a hand towards me.

  “Long enough that I don’t have to answer to you,” Evan deflected, before taunting, “Longer if you take a peek inside Étoile’s head.”

  I looked up at him curiously and he gave me a tight smile. So Étoile had seen how things would turn out before even I had known; maybe even from the day I had met him ... or before. But how had Evan known that? And when?

  “Marc, whatever has been going on between Evan and me has nothing to do with you.” I stepped between them as if my body would be a barricade, not that it would matter if Evan decided to retaliate. He wouldn’t need to throw a physical punch because I was sure a magical one would pack a whole lot more impact. Marc would have no chance against either. All the same, I was adamant. “Absolutely nothing.”

  “What about us?”

  “There never was an “us”. You told me that yourself. We’re friends. Nothing more. We both know that.”

  “There sure as hell won’t be now.” Marc backed off
a step but he was still shaking with adrenaline and his face was etched with anger and, I thought with a start, disgust.

  “You already made the decision,” I reminded him as gently as I could. I didn’t play games; I didn’t read minds. Marc had already told me very succinctly that any romantic ideas I might have had towards him were misplaced. And I found out very quickly that he was right. Yes, I had kissed him and I felt close to him but that was because I’d been uprooted to a place where I knew nobody. In my loneliness, it would have been easy for me to feel that there was more affection than friendship, until I thought about it properly. He could never make me feel the way I felt when I looked at Evan, not to mention when I was with him. Apparently Marc hadn’t been quite so decided about his own feelings. “And I’m with Evan because I want to be with him. I’m happy.”

  “He’s not like us,” Marc hissed, his eyes flashing from Evan to rest on me. “You shouldn’t be with his sort.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I shook my head and followed that up with a shrug of my shoulders.

  “He’s not one of us. His kind is nothing but trouble. You should stay away from him.”

  “Marc, back off,” Evan hissed his warning.

  Marc dragged his eyes over Evan and he stared at him, his chin jutting upwards defiantly. He avoided looking at me as he faced Evan, scorn etched across his face. “You should know better. A witch and your kind? Since when has that ever worked?”

  “I know what I’m doing,” I said softly. I was still standing between them and I could feel Evan’s hands lightly squeezing my shoulders. The merest touch from him was reassuring and kept my magic simmering at a level that it wouldn’t erupt without my permission.

  “I doubt that very much,” Marc sneered as he stepped backwards before veering away from us to stomp towards the house without a second glance.

  I pulled a tissue from my pocket and folded it in quarters as I turned to reach up and apply it to Evan’s bleeding chin.

  “He packs one hell of a punch,” said Evan, his fingers closing over mine. “Thankfully, I heal fast.”

  “You should probably sit down for a minute all the same. That was a nasty gash. If you faint and land on me, I’m done for!”

  “Might be quite fun though.” Evan waggled his eyebrows at me.

  “To be crushed by over six feet of muscle? Uh-uh.” I shook my head.

  Evan obediently sat back down. He took the paper tissue from his chin and I watched in awe as the skin knitted itself back together, leaving nothing more than a thin line that paled and went away.

  “Self-healing runs in the family,” he said. “It comes in handy. You would not believe how accident prone I was when I was younger.”

  “You don’t seem like the accident prone type.” I looked at him sceptically, wondering if that was how fast a minor cut healed, what caused those long scars that still remained?

  “I’m not anymore.”

  “What do you think all that was about?” Evan pulled me to him and rested his head against my stomach for a moment while I stood, gently stroking the top of his head.

  “He might be pissed that you’re with me, but I think there’s something that runs deeper. He’s angry about more than just you and me.”

  “You think?”

  Evan nodded. “I also think he wants to protect you and can’t, though I don’t know why. He sees me as a threat or an obstacle. He would probably be a good friend to you though, if he could stop behaving like a jealous teenage boy.” He thought for a moment. “So, you are happy with me.” It was more a statement than a question.

  “Very much so,” I answered as I kissed him lightly on the lips, lingering until he pulled me into his lap and kissed me deeply. Losing ourselves in each other, neither one giving a damn who saw us now.

  It was Evan who pulled away first. “We should get back to work before I become very distracted,” he murmured, trailing kisses along my neck, his warm hands on my back just under my top. “I could feel you control your magic. Well done.”

  A thought popped into my head, one that overpowered the urges that were drawing my body to Evan’s. I disentangled myself.

  “Evan, I have to ask you something.” Evan nodded, though not looking entirely thrilled at the interruption. “Last night you said Robert Bartholomew had personally asked you to come here.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why would he ask you to come here if you’re not a regular teacher? You are only teaching me, but why not let David? Or Étoile?”

  Evan pushed his chin out in thought and seemed almost embarrassed when he admitted, “I never thought to ask. He was calling in a favour.”

  “But why you? Of all people?”

  “Complaining?”

  “Of course not! But, Evan, there must be a whole bunch of people who can teach magic, why ask you to help me?”

  “I think he wanted someone specifically to teach you. He wasn’t pushy about it, but he made it clear that he wanted me to come.”

  “Yes, but why you? What made it so important that he had to come to you to ask you to teach me?”

  Evan thought about this for a moment. “He must have wanted the skills I had, or known that they would be compatible with yours. He must have been aware of what you could do already or, at least, what you had the potential to do.”

  “Does that make any sense to you?” I still couldn’t work out why Robert would call in a favour from Evan. Sure, he had powerful magic. I could sense it in people, in my kind, now that I knew what to look for, but what made him so superior to the other witches?

  “Sort of. If you want someone to learn a specific lesson, you go to the person who can offer it.”

  “The teleporting and the telekinesis, a lot of our kind could help me with, right? What things would he want me to learn from you?”

  “Those traits aren’t widespread,” he said to my surprise. “And they usually only run in certain family lines; but it’s not just witches who have those talents.”

  “But you have the same traits. What else could Robert want from you in particular?” I was sure I was on to something; all those veiled comments that Evan wasn’t the same as us. What else could he be, I puzzled: warlock, wizard or sorcerer?

  “Maybe he wanted you to learn how to track people, things,” Evan mused but he didn’t seem entirely convinced. “Maybe he thought with your ability to move, to teleport, you might make a good tracker. They actually would be excellent traits for a tracker to have.”

  “What do you track?” He said that was what he was, but he never explained what it meant.

  “People mostly.”

  “Like a bounty hunter?”

  “Close, but not exactly within the law. I track people, people who’ve double-crossed or murdered or kidnapped. Not just people though. Other beings too. I find things that have been stolen or gone missing. Sometimes I escort people places.”

  “Like a bodyguard?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Where to?”

  “To justice, often,” Evan said simply, which wasn’t quite the question I’d asked.

  “Why would Robert want me to learn that?”

  “Maybe to help you find work later, when things are quieter. You might not want to return to normal life, doing whatever it was that you did before you came here.”

  Evan might have been right about that but I still felt uneasy. “It just doesn’t feel right.”

  We were silent for a while, my head resting against him as my mind raced.

  “There is another possibility, of course.” Evan mulled the idea and seemed reluctant to voice it as if it were ridiculous. “Maybe Robert just wanted me to protect you. I don’t lose people and I can track them down, especially when I have a connection to them. I’m strong. Not many people would try attacking me. No harm would come to you with me here.”

  “Why would Robert go to so much trouble?”

  “Why not? He was a friend of your parents, right?” I shrugged. I
didn’t know. I remembered that Steven, Robert’s second in command said he was a friend but I didn’t recall whether Robert himself was. Evan continued regardless. “He must have felt pretty bad that they disappeared and he couldn’t find them. Then they found you just as the Brotherhood were torching whomever of your kind they could catch.”

  “Could be. Though I would never have had Robert down as my biggest fan.”

  “He’s one of life’s good guys, Stella.” Evan’s voice was warm and sincere, but it still surprised me. Apparently, a lot was catching me unawares today. “I’ve known Robert for a very long time and he is one of the most stand-up guys I’ve ever met.”

  It seemed strange to hear the man I cherished speak so well of the man I inexplicably feared. From the moment I met Robert, I hadn’t been able to shake off the feeling that something was not right. Either Evan had been duped for years or I had misplaced my instincts. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

  “Have you spoken about this to anyone else?”

  I shook my head. “No, of course not.”

  “Let’s keep it to ourselves for a while. I’ll ask Étoile what she thinks later, if that’s okay?”

  I nodded.

  Evan shuffled me off his lap onto my feet and, with a small groan of disappointment, stood too. We walked back to the house, passing no one and not in any hurry and then entering through the kitchen door. If we were sullen and thoughtful, then it was no surprise to find how subdued our housemates were. I wondered briefly if we could be considered a coven. When I asked Evan, he laughed.

  “Not exactly hubble, bubble, toil and trouble, is it?”

  I smiled. “Far from it. I clearly have to re-evaluate all my fairy stories.”

  “Don’t just stop with the witches.”

  Which reminded me, what exactly did Marc mean when he announced the differentiation between us? A whisper on the corner of my mind reminded me that it wasn’t the first time I’d heard it implied that Evan was something “other”.” I’d assumed from the moment I met him that he was a witch too, or a warlock – isn’t that what they call boy witches? – but when I thought about it closely, the magic I sensed from him was a different feeling than what I got when I was near Kitty or Étoile. Kitty hadn’t been overly perturbed when I mentioned what Marc said to me once before. It dawned on me that despite whatever everybody else saw and understood, I just wasn’t getting it.

  I wished I had had time to ask him but at that moment, we came to a dead stop in the living room.

  Robert Bartholomew stood in the centre of the room. Seren sat to one side of him, ramrod straight with her hands in her lap. Her face was unreadable.

  “We don’t have much time.” He dispensed with any greetings which was far from the genteel and courteous Robert I first met. He looked at Evan but nodded in my direction. “We have to get Stella out of here.”

  “Why?” I asked, aware that Evan was standing silently beside me.

  “We’ve been infiltrated. It’s not safe here.”

  “What makes you think Stella isn’t safe here?” Evan bristled beside me, even though he was fully aware of my fears about someone intent on frightening me. Robert seemed to be implying that I would have to leave and Evan didn’t seem one bit thrilled about only now being notified.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I answered, even though my opinion hadn’t been sought. What was new here? “I’ve already been forced to run from my home and then to here. When will I stop running, if not now?”

  “She’s got a point, Robert.”

  “Seren tells me your room was rifled this morning?” Robert solicited, looking at me finally, I thought sadly.

  “Last night I think. But it wasn’t someone from the outside.” I’d had the time to process it now. I was certain. “It was someone here. No one else could have gotten in or out without being noticed. It had to have been someone here.”

  “Then things are worse than I thought.” Robert paced the floor for a moment before turning to me when I asked,

  “Do you know what were they looking for?”

  “I don’t know, Stella. Perhaps nothing. Do you know who it was?” He was looking at me strangely. I thought he had come to the same conclusion as I, that the whole aim was to frighten, not to steal. Perhaps it was to set me up to flee. “Did you sense a trace?”

  “No.” I wasn’t sure what he meant but I hadn’t felt anything but anger and then fear, and, come to think of it, nothing magical at all. “It could have been anyone here.”

  “Except me.” Evan’s voice was soft, so soft that only I could hear. I gave him a nod and Robert looked at him sharply.

  “It wasn’t me,” said Seren. “And I will vouch for David too. He was with me all night.”

  “That leaves Étoile, Jared, Kitty, Christy and Clara,” mused Robert. He added, “Marc too” as an afterthought, then signalled for us to sit, which we did. He perched on the sofa in front of us as he asked me, “What do you imagine they wanted?”

  “Either to find something they thought I had or to frighten me.”

  “Which is most likely?” Robert pressed.

  “To frighten me,” I said. “I have nothing much of value and I don’t think anything was taken.” I thought again, now I was certain which path I wanted to pursue. “If someone wanted me to run again, they would want me frightened. They turned over my room to make me feel unsafe, to make me want to leave.”

  “Or,” said Seren. “They wanted to make the council move you somewhere safer. Or, at least, somewhere other than here, maybe where you weren’t among so many people. What do you think, Robert?”

  “I think,” he said, his face etched with concern, “I think that would ensure my coming to make sure you were all right.” His fingers brushed his chin while he thought it over.

  “If so,” Evan chimed in, “Wouldn’t that make this a trap?”

  “Who would want to trap me?” Robert was perplexed but not without concern over his sudden predicament.

  “Someone who has an interest in both of us. We both pose a threat to someone, though who, I couldn’t say.” I surprised myself by speaking up. I searched through my mind for all the people I had recently met, and those I was only aware of. Could it be a Brotherhood trap? Maybe they were using me to get to Robert who was much further up the magical totem pole than I was. I wasn’t sure their reach stretched to America yet, or was so subtle that it could subvert an entire household of witches. Besides how would they get through the wards that guarded the house?

  A cough sounded from the doorway and we turned to look at Marc waiting there hesitantly. “I can answer, at least partly.” He scanned the room and was careful not to let his eyes linger on me as he said, “I went through Stella’s room.” He looked about as guilty as a man could be and I had to stifle a gasp. At least that explained why I hadn’t felt any magical trace; Marc didn’t have any to leave.

  “Why would you do that?” Robert seemed relieved but cautious.

  “I had to,” Marc explained, taking a step back and holding up his hands as Evan stepped towards him, thunder marring his eyes. “Wait; hear me out. I was told to keep an eye on Stella, watch what she was doing and report back.” Whoa! News to me! I gaped at him and wondered if it was distrust I saw mingled with the guilt?

  Robert was similarly puzzled. “We have no reason to watch Stella, other than to make sure she’s safe. What were you looking for?”

  “Evidence,” Marc said flatly.

  “Of what?” It was my turn to question him and, shocked as I might be that he had rifled through my room, I wasn’t going to miss my chance.

  “Your parents’ death,” Marc answered.

  “What kind of evidence could I have had?” I protested and Marc returned my look with a steely gaze. “I was five years old when they disappeared. Five years old!” I yelled. Marc at least had the grace to look ashamed.

  “Mom told me I had to check. She wanted to be sure she’s the real Stella. She asked me to find out what Stella kn
ew about her parents’ death and said I had to mess up her room to freak her out. I’m really sorry, Stella, I shouldn’t have done it.”

  Boy, this conversation was getting weirder.

  “Eleanor never said anything of this to me.” Robert looked across at Seren who shook her head. “She was the one who was eager to bring Stella here. She wanted Stella where she could...” He trailed off.

  I finished for him. “Watch me,” I said, and it felt clearer now.

  “Why the hell would Eleanor want to check up on Stella? Why should she suspect a kid of having something to do with her parents’ death?” Evan stepped away from Marc and was addressing Robert now but Robert had sunk his head in his hands. When he finally came up for air, his face was chalky white as if he had endured a horrible shock.

  “Oh no,” he groaned, shaking his head. “Oh no. I should have realised. I should have known.”

  “I don’t understand. Robert, what should you have known?” I might respect my elders but I was tempted to cross the carpet and shake the man. Seren was looking at him in utter bewilderment. I rather thought she might want to give him a shake too.

  “There is only one reason why Eleanor would want to know as much as she could about what Stella remembered of Jonathan and Isadore’s deaths.” Robert scanned us all, his eyes landing on Marc last, his voice heavy with grief and disappointment.

  I was sure he would have told us then, but instead, a bright explosion sent us flying from our feet.