Teaching the King (Witchling Academy Book 1) Page 3

  I stood with a grudging sigh, knowing I had no choice. He could also be a Laram, the lesser Fae of the monster realm. He was injured, after all, and maybe in his extremity, he didn’t realize where he was. Portals had grown loose between the realms, and the Laram had certainly enjoyed stomping around Boston of late, making their presence known. And I’d recently been identified by one of the bastards while trying to help the students of Wellington with a monster problem of their own. That could explain this visit.

  Even as I tried to make that explanation work in my mind, however, I rejected it. The magic glimmering over this staggering boy wasn’t Laram, it was high Fae. The equivalent of an NFL linebacker tackling a toddler. Was this some sort of trap?

  I watched the figure sway half out of view on the screen, and gave up. Whether he was human or Fae, he was injured, and he was at my door. I couldn’t let him die there.

  When I reached the entryway to the White Crane, I made a grand show of unlocking it from the inside, creaking chains and twisting hinges. Most of this was pure illusion, but it gave me a few extra seconds to shake off my nerves. I’d never encountered a high Fae, even an injured one. But this was a victim in need, I reminded myself. That was what mattered most.

  I opened the door to the night and barely kept from jolting back a step. This was no Fae. In his now totally visible prepster polo and khakis, he screamed college student, and he looked like I could knock him over with the push of a finger. Attractive beyond his years in a sly and sensual way, he gazed at me with near supplication, every inch the wounded, dazed, and confused college boy. His head appeared genuinely injured, like he’d been clubbed with something heavy, and the blood on his face was real enough. One eye was half shut; the other had the makings of a shiner beneath it.

  Just another bumbling college drunk, hoping for a friendly place to sleep off his problems? Maybe. I stepped forward—then yelped in surprise as a new force met me, a field of energy that shot out like a firebolt, vital and primal.

  What the hell? My gaze shot up and connected with the full-on Fae shimmering behind the boy. This was no Laram—he was huge, towering over the student, older by a good ten years, taller by a foot, every inch the battle-hardened warrior. When our gazes clashed, I rocked back on my heels at the force that poured from the Fae’s icy-blue eyes, his fury, need, and desire rolling through me unchecked despite his evident attempts to cloak himself. My heart leapt and skittered, a frantic hare desperate to escape the wolf that had cornered it—not so scared that it froze in place, but bouncing everywhere at once, ready to pound right through my rib cage and explode with the intensity of this blue-eyed monster’s focus. Impossibly, insanely, I wanted him to rush toward me—to pull me into his arms, to take me, hold me, drive me down to the worn floorboards of my tavern and—

  “Please,” the boy gasped, startling me back into focus so hard and quick, I was surprised my skin didn’t jump right off my skeleton and leave it clattering to the ground. “Can I use your phone? I thought the guy who stopped was someone I knew, but…he jumped me. Took everything I had, the bastard.”

  I shook myself, blinking hard, and the image of a brutal warrior was—gone. Vanished. Before me was only the child. A boy, a college kid like any other who so often walked these streets. An academy magician, I suspected. From Wellington? I didn’t think so. I hadn’t seen him around. Maybe Twyst? I focused on the student, trying to see his future, and got nothing but an image of him sprawled on my tavern floor.

  No. No, that wouldn’t do. Human boy or not, with all the legitimate Fae magic surrounding him, I couldn’t disregard the vigilance of three generations of Hogan women before me. And I definitely couldn’t ignore the way my body still shivered hot and cold, violent tremors rocking me like I was an exposed wire in an electrical storm.

  “I’ll get you a phone, but you can’t come in,” I said, sighing with genuine regret. “We’re closed.” I stood back from the door, and pushed it shut as quickly as I could.

  Unfortunately, not quick enough.

  4

  Aiden

  It almost worked. It should have worked.

  The human realm stank of decay and disease, corrupted magic and bottomless self-pity. The near-empty intersection of streets where the portal dumped me was choked with the afterimages of machines, people, and pain, the air nearly too thick to breathe.

  Finding a human to serve as my shield was easy enough. They stumbled out of bars and all-night cafés everywhere along this stretch, weak and frail. Unaccountably, anger had surged up within me as I watched them, though Niall had told me plenty of tales of the human realm. He had an unreasonable fascination with the place, constantly pestering the Laram for information during our infrequent encounters with the lesser Fae of the monster realm. He’d told me that much had changed since the high Fae had last walked these lands. He wasn’t kidding.

  Following the war to end all wars with our Fomorian enemies, the witches of ancient Earth and their magical brethren had banded together and evicted us as well. Us! Who’d protected them from the race of predators who sought to occupy their world and enslave them all. The invading Fomorians had appeared as golden bright as gods when they’d first arrived on Earth’s shores, rising out of the surf like Poseidon and his nymphs. But they were no benevolent caretakers of the human race. They’d stripped every last shred of magic from the humans they captured and had sown the earth with fire and salt. The witches had begged us for aid—then had decided we were no better than the Fomorian slime we’d helped eradicate. We too wanted to rule Earth our way.

  They weren’t wrong, exactly, and they were strong enough to push us out right along with the banished Fomorians.

  Stung, we’d left the human realm, retreating to our high ringed mountains, crashing seas, primeval forests, and verdant valleys, never suspecting that we’d gotten the better end of the deal.

  Now I could clearly see we had.

  Earth reeked.

  Fortunately, I wouldn’t be staying long. To get what I needed, I only had to break past the witch’s wards. The Hogans had been renowned for their ability to pierce a Fae’s glamour, sure, but given it had been a hundred years since a Hogan had encountered a high Fae…she would be rusty.

  Or so I’d thought. The young mage I’d ambushed outside the bar had been sufficiently dazed to convince a few good Samaritans I’d flicked to the side. I didn’t want or need the help of anyone but the witch who hid behind the door of the tavern called the White Crane.

  Pushing the boy along ahead of me, I approached the witch’s holding with some trepidation. Powerful magic lay within this building, wards that made me grit my teeth with satisfaction. This was true magic—strong enough that I couldn’t enter her tavern directly from the Fae realm, but had to take this roundabout path. The ruby warmed in my pocket, sensing it was coming home, which tightened my nerves enough to make my senses sing.

  The old stories in the archives had been largely silent on any physical relationship between the king and his witch, but the waves of power that had shot through me during the attack on the wraiths had been deeply intense, almost sensual. Ever since, I’d craved this unknown witch to a level I couldn’t quite understand.

  Soon, I’d understand everything.

  I whispered my instructions in the boy’s ears and pushed him forward, but it was my force of will that held him upright. And when the witch opened the door, sturdy and scowling, her dark hair laced with gray and her eyes sharp with distrust, I felt desire stir within me like a punch to the gut.

  Invite him in, I urged her, silently but surely. Invite the boy in.

  The boy began to shake, and I eased back as much as I could, but when the witch looked up, she saw me. Our gazes met, and in that breath, a tide of wanting thundered through me, filling me with blind urgency so intense, I almost groaned aloud. I barely held myself in check, but the witch stiffened anyway, pulling back. And with that move I felt the withdrawal of all the magic I hadn’t realized was stirring in my veins
.

  The wards behind her doubled, then tripled in intensity, and I spit out a silent curse. Backing off enough to leave the boy to his own devices, I watched her as wicked pleasure curled within me. She knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t leave the boy to rot on her doorstep, couldn’t ignore how my presence made her feel. How would she react when I stood before her, her scent filling the air between us, the warmth radiating from her skin, the fluttering of her heart…

  Once again I’d gone too far.

  The woman stepped back, scowling down at the young mage.

  “We’re closed,” she announced.

  “The hell you are.” I pushed the boy harder, and he lurched violently forward with a death-rattling groan, collapsing at her feet over the threshold of the tavern.

  “Star and light,” the witch cursed, the boy’s distress apparently convincing her to help him. He’d live, and considering I could stop his heart with a thought, he should count himself lucky. Meanwhile, the witch dropped to her knees and hooked her hands underneath his armpits, hauling him into the bar with credible strength.

  The moment my family ring crossed her threshold, she jolted. She peered down at her charge, then with a grunt, yanked the ring off the boy’s hand.

  The second she did, it was my turn to stagger back, landing square on my ass as my entire body lit on fire. In one stuttering breath, I saw the Hogan witch as she truly was, never mind the powerful glamour that draped her or the glowering presence of the tavern behind her.

  She was young, strong, fierce. With her lithe figure and mane of deep black hair, she practically vibrated with a siren song of power. Her cloud-gray eyes beckoned to me, her curved mouth promising delights I could only guess at. She was the stars over the high meadows at night, the avalanche of winter snow crashing down the mountains to become the streams that fed the lower realms in spring. There was healing magic within her, but it was not the gentle grace of the lesser Fae, with their soft hands and easy lilting tongue. No, this was storm and fire and brutal certainty.

  I shuddered, hard, as desire swept through me, burning its trail straight to my groin. No wonder the Hogan witch had been chosen to teach the high Fae her magic. She might be human, but she was pure fire and possibility, as well.

  She might be human, but she was mine.

  The witch eyeballed the ring she’d taken from the boy with a grimace of disdain. Then she turned and chucked the ring down the street like it was so much trash.

  “Good try, but we’re closed to your kind,” she shouted as she bent down again. “Go back where you came from. You’ve ruined enough lives.”

  She pulled the boy inside the rest of the way and slammed the door shut. I watched, amused. I didn’t need to accost the witch as she tended to her human charge. The damage had been done. The crest of the High King of the Fae had crossed her tavern’s threshold, had rested in her hand, which meant she’d invited me in. I could come for her whenever I was ready.

  I was ready now.

  I strolled down the street and bent to scoop up the ring of my family, fixing it back on my finger. Then I straightened and turned back toward the tavern called the White Crane.

  It was time for me to claim my witch.

  5

  Belle

  “What the hell were you thinking?” I asked the college mage as he slumped over the table. I sponged off his hair, batting away his hands to let me get to the worst of his injuries on his crown. They were little more than scrapes, made more impressive because scalp wounds always seemed to bleed way more than they should.

  “I didn’t do anything,” the boy protested. “I was heading back to campus. I’m not even that drunk.”

  I grimaced, but to be fair, the stink of beer wasn’t as strong on him as I’d first thought. Then again, college students could put away an immense amount of alcohol.

  “Are you even legal?”

  “I guess that depends on what you’re interested in,” he countered with a slightly unsteady grin, but he didn’t fight me when I leaned him back in the chair to get a look at his eyes. The asshole Fae had clocked him pretty good, but I could fix this.

  I shivered, remembering the hazy images of the Fae who’d tortured this poor boy in an attempt to breach my stronghold. He was big, dark, stunningly beautiful—and mean, I reminded myself. He had to be to assault a student the way he had.

  “You want me to fix this, it’s going to sting a little bit,” I cautioned.

  “You’re a witch,” the college mage said, surprising me. “Of course it’s going to sting.”

  Had he said bitch or witch? I didn’t know for sure, but I dipped my fingers into the small cup I’d brought in from the other room, then traced the contours of his brow and the soft, perfect curve of his cheeks.

  He hissed, his fists convulsively gripping the seat of the chair, but he didn’t cry out. He should have cried out, honestly. This wasn’t easy magic.

  “Sorry, buddy. Repetition or force. I go for speed, not subtlety.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I shouldn’t even have been over here. Had a client…never mind.”

  I frowned down at him. He really was taking the hit of healing magic better than I expected. “You’re a Twyst Academy student, aren’t you?” I asked.

  He chuckled, a low rumble I suspected had set more than a few hearts aflutter. “Of course I’m from Twyst. Wellington’s a bunch of monster nuts. Hey.”

  He flinched back as I took advantage of his distraction to press the cartilage of his nose back together. His eyes popped open to stare at me, his voice slightly garbled. “I didn’t realize my nose had been broken.”

  “Mmmhmm. Maybe the next time you have a ‘client’ on this side of town, you’ll keep your brains in your head. It’s been a busy time over at Wellington lately.”

  He grinned. “It’s been a busy time everywhere. But thanks for your help.” He glanced around, as if noticing the tavern for the first time. “This is nice. I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”

  “You said an Uber driver attacked you—tell me about that.”

  He sighed, gingerly patting his traumatized scalp. “Yeah. It was the weirdest thing. I hadn’t even ordered a car, but the guy drove up, parked, rolled down the window, and called out my name. I guess that’s what made me stop. I mean how would somebody know my name, right?” He shook his head a little ruefully. “Pride will always get a magician in the end. They drill that into our heads over at Twyst, but we never really think about it out in the real world. And it didn’t occur to me that I could be so easily picked off, not as strong as I am.”

  I shot him a wry glance, remembering the image of the massively built Fae warrior I had glimpsed behind him, and the power that had ripped through me for the scant second I’d touched the bastard’s ring. But to his credit, the student didn’t miss my reaction. “Oh, I know, I know, I don’t look like all that much, but I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

  His voice shifted just slightly, and I felt a sudden pulse of his magic. My eyes narrowed, and I mentally took back my scoffing dismissal of this student. “You knew illusion magic was in play?”

  “Not until the guy moved as fast as he did to crack me. That was no ordinary Uber driver. That wouldn’t even be any high-level martial artist. I’m pretty fast, and like I said, I was working with a client in the area, so I was a little amped. I think that’s why he came back at me so hard the second time and raked open my scalp. Everybody loves a good scalp wound. Cracked me against the eyes too, with his forearm, going for maximum damage in a short time. At that point, he dragged me into this street and shoved me in your direction. The place was closed, but I could sense someone inside. My head was ringing so hard it didn’t occur to me that all this was a setup against you. Some sort of prank, I guess. Sorry about that.”

  “Yeah, some sort of prank,” I agreed.

  It was his turn to narrow his eyes at me, trying unsuccessfully to pierce my glamour of being a fifty-plus year-old barkeeper. The stu
dents from Twyst were good, but they were still students, and I was a grown-assed witch. It put me in a totally different class, you could say.

  Still, he surprised me again. “Do you need help? I mean, your place wards are very strong. And this close to Wellington, I’m sure you have access to protection. But Twyst stands ready to protect the community too, I hope you know. Is there danger here?”

  I shook my head a little grimly. This was the problem with the magic academies and their eager young sorcerers—they wanted to help, and they believed they could help. They didn’t understand that some magic was non-negotiable.

  Even thinking those words made me wince. The Hogans had made a contract, but my mother and my grandmother before her had never seen the document, never known how we could have been roped into such a thing. According to my great-grandmother, the high priestess of the White Mountains coven—and likely the whole high council behind her—had no record of why our family specifically had been sacrificed to the whim of the High King of the Fae. But we had been sacrificed all the same. And we’d always known there was a risk in breaking the contract. My gaze slid back to the student mage, just starting out his life. Would this be the consequence now that I had been found? Would more people be hurt? The thought infuriated me.

  “You should probably be on your way, if you’re okay to leave. I can order a car for you for real this time?”

  “Not necessary,” he said, pushing back from the table and standing. Once again, I was struck by a quiet power, an awareness that would make the young magician far more formidable than most of the monster riffraff that skulked around Wellington. Possibly even proof against the illusory High King of the Fae one day, even if he hadn’t been tonight.