Spellcaster

  “That knife is just more of a reason why you should have called the cops. Someone comes at you with a knife, you call the people with guns,” Brendan demanded, his eyes narrowing.

  “Did you get a look at that thing? It’s clearly a ritual knife—they’re called athames,” I explained, still irritated. “And that one looks like it was designed with a very clear purpose.”

  “The police deal with the occult all the time, Emma. Assault is assault, no matter what sorcery this guy might worship at home.”

  “And how would I explain how I got away? I couldn’t exactly tell them about the spell I used to disarm this psycho! They’d think I was insane,” I argued, slamming my fist down and wincing when my sore knuckles struck the pillow-topped mattress. I dropped my elbows and let my head fall back against his pillow. “Think about it. I’d be the one locked up in a padded room. They’d think I was making it up for attention or something. I mean, who gets attacked twice in four months? We have to figure this out on our own. Besides, could you imagine if people knew spells worked? That’s why Angelique is always telling me that real witchcraft isn’t something we want to go around advertising.”

  “Then maybe she shouldn’t dress like she fell out of a Tim Burton movie,” Brendan said sarcastically. He looked away, exhaling sharply before biting his lip. I wondered what words he was swallowing. But when he faced me again, his expression was calmer.

  “Since you seem so sure that she holds the answer to everything, me, you and Angelique need to have a little meeting. The sooner, the better.”

  I mentally cringed at the thought. I did not want to deal with Angelique and Brendan in the same room for longer than a few minutes. I doubted I could focus on anything other than trying to keep them from snapping at each other—and clearly, keeping my magical focus was crucial.

  “I was already planning on calling her,” I said. “I texted her from the bus that I had a pretty big tale to tell her. She’s at work until six, though.” Angelique worked at Vince A as part of her scholarship deal, but she worked in the front office, home to cuddle bear Casey and her assistant, Mrs. Gary, a steely woman who always seemed to be wearing gray. I thought I saw her in pink once and almost had a heart attack.

  “I have to know if Angelique sensed anything. I told you about her empath abilities, right?”

  He nodded, looking unimpressed. “And you also told me that she had no idea what the spell she did only yesterday meant—and today you get attacked.”

  “Stop nitpicking.” I sighed, shutting my eyes. “Angelique really does know her stuff—she’ll know what’s going on. Or at least know how to find out what’s behind it,” I insisted, opening one eye. “You don’t have to be there, I’ll tell you what she says. Everything, I swear it.”

  “You’re joking, right? Just try to stop me from going with you to talk to Angelique about this.”

  “So I keep one little thing from you, and now you don’t trust me?” I asked, my voice rising in pitch. I couldn’t help it, I was a little insulted.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that we are going to deal with this.” Brendan’s tone was firm, but his touch was tender as he placed his palm gently against my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. “Someone tried to hurt you. Someone did hurt you. I can’t believe you’re even questioning how this involves me, too.”

  “I’m not questioning you. Brendan, it’s just—it’s hard to focus when you two are together. You and Angelique don’t exactly go together like peas and carrots.”

  “More like peas and poison, I know, but that’s her problem, not mine,” Brendan said with a determined grin. “Whatever, I’d rather you didn’t go alone. As proud as I am of you for punching this psycho and sending him running, I’d rather you didn’t have to. Even though my girl’s a badass,” Brendan murmured, his small, proud smile pulling at the corners of his mouth in spite of himself.

  “Okay, that’s the first step. Witch meeting with Angelique,” Brendan addressed me, sliding his hand down my side until it came to rest on my stomach. “Deal?”

  “Deal.” I sighed. I knew I’d screwed up by not telling him about the spell, but right then, all I wanted was for Brendan to stop taking charge and just comfort me and stop being mad at me. And I told him so.

  Then Brendan’s tone changed to one I was more used to.

  “I’m not mad at you, Em.” I gazed into those deep eyes, and all the anger was gone from his face. “I’m not thrilled with how you handled some of this, but…whatever. I know why you handled it that way. And I’ll get over it now that you’re not going to keep things from me anymore. Right?” he added pointedly.

  “Right,” I mumbled.

  “Good. Because like I said, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at what happened. Obviously I don’t like someone attacking my girlfriend. Again. And I hate that I wasn’t there to help you.”

  Distress shot across his face. I could tell he was envisioning my battle with the hooded mystery psycho in his head, and his fingers raked so roughly through his black hair I thought he might pull it out by the roots.

  “I understand why you didn’t tell me about the spell. But damn it, Emma, if I had known something was up, I would have ditched school and gone up there to be with you—no matter what crap I was dealing with.” Brendan sighed, prying his fingers from his hair to leave the locks sticking out all over. It was like his hair had just exploded. “I just wish you would realize that you don’t have to fight this by yourself. I’m in this with you—so far in this with you. If that means sneaking out my house late at night because you’ve just done a spell that scared you, or sneaking off school grounds to meet you on a school trip, I’m here.

  “I’m here, Em,” he said again, gently squeezing my hip for emphasis. “We finally got here, together. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

  “I promise,” I whispered.

  Brendan rested his hand on my hip again, where he hooked his thumb into the rolled-down waistband of the plaid boxers I was wearing. Brendan looked at the boxers with a naughty smile.

  “And I thought I was supposed to be trying to get into your underwear.” He tugged on the elastic before letting it snap painlessly back into place.

  “Smart-ass.” I narrowed my eyes in mock anger, and tried to playfully whack his shoulder, but he deftly caught my hand.

  Brendan shut his eyes, bringing my hand to his lips. He kissed my wrist slowly, softly. Brendan balanced his weight above me as he intertwined our fingers, bringing my hand to rest above my head. Slowly he trailed the back of his fingers down the inside of my arm and I could feel the path of his touch, as he left a trail of heat on my skin. He continued his caress down my side until his hand came to rest at my rib cage, and when I saw the adoring look on his face, my breath caught in my throat.

  I was glad I had shaved my underarms and legs last night, considering that I sure didn’t expect this afternoon—or, hell, this entire day—to go this way. I hadn’t planned on being semi-undressed on Brendan’s bed, tangled up in his soft, navy blue sheets. I couldn’t imagine a bigger romance killer than if Brendan lifted my arm to see a hairy mess.

  But concerns of how I looked soon faded. All I could think about, all I could feel, was Brendan. All my fears, all my anxiety, all my rage evaporated as I took solace in his presence, letting everything else melt away. He slid his hand under my back, and I went willingly as he rolled me on top of him in one fluid motion.

  I pressed my lips against his, his mouth soft against mine. It was like we were made to kiss each other—and I guess as soul mates, we were. We were destined to love each other. He seemed to know when I craved a more demanding, aggressive touch—and when I needed him to be tender, reassuring. Like right now.

  Brendan filled my senses—all I could smell was the clean, fresh scent of his shampoo as I knotted my fingers in his
hair. All I could feel were his hands on me, as they moved from my hips to my thighs, pulling them on either side of him so I was straddling him.

  Wrapping one strong arm around my lower back, Brendan pushed himself up into a sitting position without breaking the kiss. I hooked my ankles behind his back, and he broke away from me, just for a moment, long enough to reach behind him and grab a fistful of fabric from the back of his T-shirt. He pulled the shirt over his head and flung it…somewhere, I have no idea where. He could have thrown it into another dimension and I wouldn’t have noticed.

  Brendan’s fingers tangled in my hair, cradling my head as he kissed me softly, sweetly, pulling away from me only to whisper that he loved me. His hands found the hem of my shirt and clutched it tightly. Soon, my shirt joined his. The feel of his palms as his hands swept across my skin, holding me impossibly closer, sent my sense of reason into another dimension along with our shirts. But when his lips moved to my collarbone, and his fingers started to tug at the clasp on my bra, I forced my mind to focus. As badly as I craved feeling his skin against mine, to lose myself entirely in him and forget everything else, I placed my palms against his chest, his strong, warm, broad—focus, Emma!—chest. And then I gently pushed him back.

  “Mmm, sorry,” Brendan whispered, lifting his palms to my shoulders. He pulled his face away, and his eyes were drowsy with desire. “I’ll stop.”

  “We don’t have to stop stop, just slow down.” I traced his jawline with my finger as I tried to steady my ragged breathing. I sounded like an asthmatic running through a dust storm.

  “No, we should stop.” His tone was final as he encircled me in his warm arms. I wasn’t sure if it was his natural body temperature, or our activity, but it was getting really hot in Brendan’s bed—in every sense of the word.

  Brendan pulled back to look at me with that hungry look in his eyes. “I don’t want to take advantage…especially after today. But it’s just a little too easy to get carried away in the moment with you.”

  “Tell me about it,” I breathed, aware that my own face wore the same greedy expression. We were a matched set. I couldn’t help it; the minute Brendan touched me, my IQ felt like it dropped several points.

  “You’re just really…hot, and I love you so much…but I’m just not ready to go much further yet, especially not after today… .” I trailed off, blushing. Yep, the IQ of a box of sneakers. And that’s being generous.

  Brendan smiled, planting a chaste kiss on my eager lips. “So we’re in agreement. You don’t have to explain yourself, it’s not like I’m complaining.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, the stuff Kendall was saying…” I cringed at how insecure I sounded. Not that I could be pressured into anything before I was ready, but I didn’t need the added guilt trip of making my patient boyfriend sexually frustrated.

  “Well, I’ll be honest…sometimes it’s really hard—”

  “I know.” I smirked, feeling saucy. “I can tell. I’m pretty much straddling you right now.”

  “Really hard to stop, smart-ass,” Brendan emphasized, giving me a playful squeeze before cocking an eyebrow at me. “And the other thing, too. But trust me, waiting for you is nothing to complain about.” As he spoke, his fingers danced across my bare back in a way that made me not want to wait.

  “And Kendall,” he added, his face scrunching into a repulsed grimace as he said her name, “was the biggest mistake, on every level. She’s about as sexy as a wet sock. Holding your hand is way more satisfying than anything that girl can do. I mean it.”

  “I really didn’t need the mental image, but I guess I appreciate the sentiment,” I said dryly.

  “Sorry, just being honest.” Brendan shrugged. He ran his hand down my leg, his arm knocking into my shredded knee. I flinched, the playful mood between us instantly turning sour.

  “Even though I’m so proud of you for kicking major ass, I can’t believe I wasn’t there.” Brendan sighed, his tone managing to be gentle and acerbic at the same time. “All over something so incredibly stupid.”

  I was secretly glad that he had been detained at Vince A. I could live with a sore knee and some bruised knuckles. I couldn’t live with Brendan getting stabbed trying to protect me, especially now that we knew I was the target of this hateful whoever-it-is.

  “You know, you still haven’t told me what happened at school this morning. I had to hear it secondhand, so who knows how accurate it is.”

  “What did you hear?” Brendan asked, and I relayed what Cisco told me. He nodded along, confirming what Cisco said.

  “That’s all pretty much true. So here’s what happened after I leave the classroom. The cops and Casey escort me to my locker to do a search, and they’re going through everything. I mean, they’re flipping through my textbooks, your textbooks, the works. And Casey keeps asking me if I sell coke or pills, and I should just make it easier on myself and confess, so maybe I’ll only get away with a suspension.”

  “Why would they search you? Did they get the wrong guy?”

  “No, someone knew exactly what they were doing,” Brendan clarified, his nostrils flaring angrily as he exhaled loudly. If he could have breathed smoke, he would have.

  “Casey says they got an anonymous call that I was selling coke and pills. That’s why the cops were there. So, they’re searching my locker, and at first I was a little nervous, because what if someone planted something in there? I never lock it. Then they find something.”

  I stiffened. “What did they find?”

  “Well, I didn’t know at first. I was standing on the other side of the locker door, so I couldn’t see. So, Casey grabs me by the collar and hauls me down the stairs to her office.” Brendan grimaced. “I don’t know what perfume she wears, but she smells like the air freshener in the guy’s bathroom, by the way. I hope you’re never that close to her. It was gross enough being manhandled by her.”

  “Forget about her bathing in Febreze, Brendan,” I said, exasperated. “What happened?”

  “Oh, we get to her office and it turns out to be a little bag of baby powder. I mean, it didn’t even look like coke. I guess someone stuck it in the back of my locker, hell, I have no idea when. That locker’s a mess. We should clean it soon.”

  “So are you in trouble?” I asked, wanting Brendan to stop going off on tangents and give me the verdict already.

  “Well, Casey goes off on this whole spiel about how she’s keeping her eye on me, and this doesn’t really prove anything, so I tell her to go right ahead and give me a drug test. I told her I’ll give her a sample, right there in her coffee mug if she wanted, that I had nothing to hide.” He paused. “She wasn’t amused. The cops laughed, though.”

  He shut his eyes, chuckling at the memory as I put my hands on his shoulders and shook him.

  “Brendan, how did it end? You’re killing me here.”

  “I’m not in trouble. Although, my crack about pissing in her coffee cup didn’t go over so well, but other than that, I’m fine. I was so obviously set up.” Then he laughed bitterly. “The cops said it was either a prank—a really bad one—or someone with a vendetta. I can’t help but think it’s the latter.”

  I scowled. “It has to be Kristin.” But Brendan just shook his head.

  “I hate to say it, but if that skank was going to set anyone up, it would be you. And she’d know where to get actual pills to plant and do some real damage. That girl’s idea of party games aren’t exactly balloon animals and Pin the Tail on the Donkey.”

  “You’re probably right, it would have been me,” I agreed sourly. Instead she tortured me at the Cloisters.

  “So anyway, after poring through all my stuff and finding nothing, Casey asks me if I’d had any recent troubles in the school, if I’d pissed anyone off.”

  We exchanged matching “is-she-kidding” lo
oks.

  “What’d you say?” I asked, incredulous.

  “I asked her if she was kidding! I may not particularly like anyone there, but apart from the usual suspects I don’t have any mortal enemies.”

  That part was true. The guys who didn’t like Brendan were too intimidated by him to start something. And the girls—well, they most definitely wanted to start something with him. Preferably something pantsless.

  “But wait, my day gets worse,” he grumbled then paused. “Again, this isn’t anywhere near as bad as your day. But for me, this is worse than being set up. So I’m basically told to just go to my classes as if none of this happened. Screw that, I’m taking the entire day as a free period and hanging out in the library, thinking I’ll just wait for you. So I get my hoodie from where I left it, under the lab table in chemistry, and I realize that someone had jacked my headphones, right out of my pocket. It was the pair I use when I deejay. My really good pair.”

  “Oh, no, that sucks!” I cried, thinking of the pair he was talking about. Brendan had lent them to me a few times when I had to work in the library and he had basketball practice—it sounded like the band was standing in my eardrums, serenading me.

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” Brendan huffed. “I keep a spare pair of earbuds in my locker when I want to listen to music in class, so I had to use them today. It was like listening to music through a sponge. And about as comfortable as if I’d stuffed couches in my ears. The ones I had are on back order.”

  Brendan said the words as if they tasted bad. Of course he’d be more put out by the stolen headphones than by the plot to frame him as a drug dealer.

  “So did anything else happen with Casey?”

  “Well, she just had to call my parents, of course,” he said sarcastically.

  “What did your mom say?” I asked, bracing myself for her tirade.

  “It wasn’t too bad. They got my dad on the phone.”