Hush (Witches & Warlocks Book 2) (6 page)

At least my little mishap created a decent learning experience for, oh, like, everyone in all of Windsor Manor. The garden is crawling with people. Teachers helping students with reparative spells, mentors sitting cross legged amongst the flora, spinning bits of magic in their hands and letting it loose into the plants. I’m not sure what’s more overwhelming. The fact that I’m the cause of all this or the fact that this happened
after
I killed everything around me.

I find Noah sitting on a bench and he scoots over without a word, making just enough space for our thighs to touch when I sit beside him. There’s this zing of energy as my magic greets his, this delicious rush of power that settles in my stomach like butterflies on a first date. And then I lose myself in the sound of his voice as he guides me through the reparative spells. Our magic twists and twines together, blending shades of gold and blue. It’s all so soothing. The gentle words of our spell. The brief moments of contact. The flares of magic and conversation from the other residents of Windsor Manor bubbling in the background. I think this is the most relaxed I’ve been since I came here.

From time to time, I give Noah’s shoulder a little nudge with my own, just content to be with him. He’ll turn just ever so slightly and give me a little sideways smile. As the garden slowly returns to normal ... well, mostly normal. It’s still going to be a little overgrown. Whatever I did, whatever spell I cast just before I passed out, wherever the power came from, there sure was a lot of it. I’ll admit, I’m a little proud that my protection spell is so strong that even a whole team of witches and warlocks can’t quite undo it.

As the sky starts to grow dim, people abandon their posts and head in for dinner in little groups of two’s and three’s. I’m fairly exhausted, but also exhilarated, so the two things kind of cancel each other out. I don’t think I could sleep if they told me my life depended on it. Noah and I sit separate from the rest of the students at dinner, eating and talking and telling jokes. I continue to pretend not to notice everyone else staring at me over their plates, whispering behind hands, their gazes slinking back to where Noah and I sit whenever they think they’re not being obvious.

Thing is, I get it. I understand their curiosity. I’m an anomaly. Transitioning at twenty-three with more power than any of the other witches and warlocks sent to Windsor for help with their own transitions. And then there’s the big conspiracy around me. Who tried to hide me? Why did they try to hide me? Can I actually cast more than one kind of magic? There’s a lot of competition here among some of the students. The fact that I’m special makes me kind of a target.

But that’s ok.

That’s what kids do, right? Form cliques and leave people out? But I outgrew all of that years ago. It’s a relief to be outside it all.

The dining hall is emptying and Noah and I are still talking and laughing, but I can’t help but start to wonder about Luke. I was so sure that Daya would grant me permission to leave Windsor that I told him I’d meet him tonight. What will he think when I tell him that I can’t? Will he think I’m blowing him off? Wouldn’t that be kind of a good thing if he thought I was blowing him off? I mean, the guy used me, right?

Right?

Except he also, in those small ways that seem somewhat insignificant but important enough not to forget, he tried to help me, too. Maybe he knows more about who wanted me hidden and why they wanted me hidden. Maybe he knows more about dark magic and how to control it.

Ugh.

This shouldn’t be this hard. Noah’s so good. I really should just let myself fall in love with him, trust him to guide me in the right direction and be done with it. That’s the thing, though. I trusted Becca and look where that got me. I thought she had my best interests at heart, I thought she was my seeing-eye dog and I let her guide me through each and every aspect of my life and that turned out to be such a terrible mistake. I just don’t know if I can trust myself to someone else like that again. Not when I have so many questions.

“You all done?” Noah leans in and smiles, arching an eyebrow as he waits for me to focus on him.

“Ya, sorry. Got lost in my thoughts again.”

We scoop up our trays and utensils and deposit them near the trash bins. Noah’s just chatting away as we head out of the dining hall, his hand firm on my lower back, radiating that golden warmth that is his magic greeting my magic. I try to keep up with what he’s saying, adding the appropriate
mmhmm’s
and
uh-huh’s
when he pauses, but I’m just really super distracted.

We get to my door and Noah pauses and drops his hand. “Here we are.”

“Yep. Here we are,” I say, distracted, wondering what Daya meant with all her veiled threats and what Lucy meant with all her … Lucy-ness.

“You take care, Zoe.” Noah leans in and gives me a hug, his scent enveloping me, the stubble of his beard scratching the skin on my throat ever so slightly.

“Ya. Have a good morning.”

Wait. What?

Noah pulls back, his brow all scrunched up and confused.

“Damnit,” I say, trying not to laugh. “I mean, good night. Have a good night.”

“You’re something, Zoe Tate.” Noah brushes a finger against the tip of my nose. “Absolutely something.”

“And by something, you mean awesome, I’m sure.” I gather my hair and drag it over my shoulder.

“Of course.”

“Of course.”

Noah wanders down the few steps down the hallway to his door, chuckling to himself and I let myself into my darkened room. The notification light on my phone is blinking away, a little beacon on my bedside table. My stomach is an instant roiling boiling mess of excitement and my hands tremble a little when I pick up the phone and read the text from Luke waiting for me.

Meet me? Chapel Hill Cemetery. You say when.

A cemetery? Is he for real? I’m almost grateful Daya denied my request to go out this evening. What’s he thinking? Trying to get me to meet him in a cemetery?

But then, maybe he needed to pick a place that was sure to be secluded so we wouldn’t be interrupted. Maybe he has information for me. Maybe, I’m missing out on a chance to have so many of my questions answered.

You know what? I’m here voluntarily. Or at least I think I’m here voluntarily. Daya can’t dictate when I can and cannot leave. I type out a text in reply:

Gimme half an hour.

Chapter Seven

So, it looks like I’m gonna sneak out. In all my life I can count all the rules I’ve ever broken on a closed fist. I don’t even know what to make of the fact that I’m trying to decide if I should try to creep down the hallway and out the front door of if it’d be better to make use of my window. And the honest fact is that I have not one single clue.

My instinct says my window is probably better because it eliminates the chance of being seen by some random somebody out in the hall before bed, but I’m up on the second floor and that means I’ll probably hit the ground harder than I’d like. Plus, do I really have the courage to drop out of a second floor window? I pace back and forth around my room, trying to gather my wits, trying to work myself up to believe that yes, I’m actually gonna do this. Down the hall or out the window, it’s gonna happen.

I swallow hard and stride over to my window, lean on the glass, and look down at the grass below. Just as I start to open the locks and slide the thing open, I find another reason to pause. Shouldn’t I change into dark clothing? That’s what people do when they’re sneaking around, right? Wear dark clothes to blend into the shadows? As I change I’m struck by another thought. I’m a witch. I don’t have to jump out the window and let gravity have its way with me. I can just cast a spell so that I float on down without getting hurt.

Bolstered by my awesomeness, I zip up my dark gray hoodie and pull my hair back into a ponytail while trying to come up with the right incantation that will let me jump out of my window without getting hurt. Magic is weird, so much of it is reflex, like your hand shooting out to catch a ball thrown your way. (Or, dodging out of the way of said ball if you’re a wuss like me.) The right incantation can guide that reflex into something more purposeful.

The window sticks a bit when I try to open it and relief at having an external reason to back out of sneaking out washes over me, followed almost instantly by regret. I give the window one more heave and it slides upwards, the ancient wooden frame squeaking its complaint at the forced mobility. I freeze at the sound and wait for hordes of armed guards to rush through my door while alarms blare lights flash and whatever other kinds of insanity happen when someone gets caught breaking the rules. Nothing happens other than the cool night air filtering in through the screen, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of rebellion.

I fiddle with the screen until I get it out of the way and whisper the first incantation that comes to mind. “Adsurgere descendit.” With that said, and after a deep breath and several thoughts of fluffy white clouds and floating and landing on trampolines, I leap from the window.

And fall.

Fast.

I bite back a scream and focus hard on my magic, willing it out of me as the ground rushes up, a great big threatening mass of ‘this is gonna hurt’.

Nothing.

No magic.

I hit the ground with a thud.

Pain shoots up my ankle and I roll onto my back, clutching my leg.

What the hell? I can kill an entire garden and bring it back to life like the Amazon on crack, but I can’t keep myself from falling out a window? The pain in my ankle is bad. I call on my tiger, hoping that having my familiar around will amplify my magic into existence and whisper a healing spell once she’s at my side. The pain subsides, just like it’s supposed to. I look back up at my window, a gaping void in a wall of uniformity and whisper another spell, this one designed to set my window back to rights.

The screen slides into place and the window slips closed. If it squealed in its frame, I couldn’t hear it from here. Well, at least my magic isn’t, I don’t know, broken or something. Even if it was totally strange for that one spell not to work.

The tiger nudges me and I guess it’s probably a bad idea for me to be hanging out on the ground here, just waiting for someone to find me and send me back to Daya’s office for the second time in one day. I hop up and test my weight on my ankle. It’s fine. Whatever I’d done to it, I’d undone with my magic. A smile starts in my chest and works its way to my face.

That’s right, I’m a badass witch who sneaks out at night busting out healing spells when shit goes sideways. Not exactly the picture I’d drawn of myself just a couple weeks ago while working in cubicle village and hiding behind my best friend when I got afraid.

“Come on, then,” I whisper to the tiger and she takes off towards the garden. Shows what I know. I was gonna follow the driveway out to the road and probably get myself caught in the process. Of course it’s a better idea to go the back way.

It doesn’t take me too long to get to Chapel Hill Cemetery, especially not with the tiger leading the way. Thing is, I’m having a hard time actually going
into
the Cemetery. I know, it’s just a place. Except it’s a place with dead people and it feels wrong to trespass on the dead. And if I’m being really honest, it’s a little creepy, you know, what with all the dead people. But, I’ve come this far, it’d be foolish to turn back now. But did I mention there are dead people?

The gate’s locked, of course, so I’m going to have to climb the fence. Which I do, and while it’s not the most graceful thing I’ve ever done, it is, in fact, the first time I’ve ever climbed a fence. The tiger leaps over the thing with all her supernatural might and walks ahead of me with the assuredness of a predator amongst prey. I try to emulate her confidence. Because, you know, it’s the most natural thing in the world to break into a cemetery at night and I should exude confidence while I do it.

I follow her up a hill, past rows and rows of headstones until we get to the top. She pauses and looks at me, her great blue eyes shining ever so slightly in the dark. With a mighty sigh she fades from view. Somehow, that sigh speaks of judgement and disappointment, but maybe that’s just me coloring her reaction with my own thoughts and feelings.

“Hey.”

The voice comes from somewhere to my left and I somehow manage not to scream even though I jump out of my skin. I find Luke leaning against a tree, his arms folded across his chest. “Hey,” I manage and head his way, not completely sure what to make of the surge of emotions racing through my body at this moment. I’m thankful that my legs are even holding me up, because they’re all quivery and weird feeling.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Luke’s still leaning on the tree and his voice is so familiar, so welcome, but his posture is so withdrawn and reticent. This big rush of happy relief floods through me and I remind myself that the memories I have of our time together - his quick laugh, his warm embrace, his probing questions - those were all contrived.

“Why are we here, Luke?” It’s a question, but I say it like a statement. All hard and final, more like an accusation than anything.

His eyes shoot into his hairline and he presses off the tree. “I guess a lot’s changed, huh? They removed the dampening spells Becca had on you?”

I don’t deign to answer his question. “How much did you know about what was going on? How long did you know about it? How …” I want to ask him how much of our relationship was fake, but I’m not sure I really want to know the answer to that question.

Luke throws up his hands. “Look, Zoe, I asked you to meet me so I can apologize to you.”

I wait for him to continue and when he stays silent I sit back on my heel. “I’m listening.” I’m also regretting this decision. All I’m going to get out of this is trouble when I try to get back into Windsor Manor.

“Look, I can’t tell Becca’s story. But I can tell you mine.”