Angels & Magic: A Bonus Collection Page 5

  * * *

  Evelyn’s Enchantment

  Being an outsider is hard under any circumstances. Being the first of a new line of witches 4 millennia after the first twelve covens were founded is a special kind of difficult.

  The long, rectangular table had six chairs on each side, leaving no space for Evelyn. The other Head witches were already seated, and either ignored her or scrutinized her every move as she approached the table. They were the oldest generation alive for each of their lines, and many were old enough to be her own grandmother.

  Slightly irritated by their lack of hospitality, Evelyn waved her hand and created a spot for herself at the head table, on the far side of the hall. A few more people stopped to observe her, but chatter continued up until the moment where she lowered herself into the seat, at which point the twelve other witches eyed her with disdain, some even with outright indignation.

  The other women at the table had no parents because each was created by God as a fully-grown woman. The Greeks had been close with their creation stories of Athena and Pandora, but not even they had guessed that there were originally twelve—and now thirteen—magical women walking the planet, each in charge of their own coven. But unlike her magical sisters, Evelyn had been born to two non-magical parents, been bestowed her gifts in the past five years, and had no line to her name. Yet. She was determined to fulfill her duty as one of these Chosen women.

  Evelyn would be lying if she denied that a frustrating, and often deluded, desire to fit in among their ranks also held more sway than she would like to admit.

  The woman seated on the farthest seat on the right, raised a manicured brow and said, “Ah, look. The unplanned daughter of magic has decided to join us.”

  Evelyn snapped her fingers and the golden pitcher that sat in front of the other witch lifted off the table and floated toward her. Insecurities aside, she quickly learned from the meetings that not only did she seem to take to her powers faster than the others had, but also possessed more raw magic within her blood than they had in theirs. Perhaps it was vanity or pride that made her exhibit her superiority in the face of their derision. She pointed to her matching goblet and watched as it filled with wine. When it was full, she dismissed the vessel with a wave of her hand. She made eye contact with the offender as she took a slow sip.

  The woman didn’t turn away, but Evelyn saw her aura change from prideful purple to light gray embarrassment.

  “Did you really think God would have accidentally created me, Morena? You know He doesn’t make mistakes.”

  At the mention of Him, her fellow witch lowered her eyes. Morena was descended from one of the oldest European lines and was rumored to be related to the infamous Morgan Le Fay before God had stripped her of her powers, although no one could confirm or deny the familial connection.

  Evelyn shifted her gaze around the table, daring anyone else to question her. When no one did, she created a banquet for all of them. She wasn’t in the habit of holding grudges and she couldn’t quite blame them for resenting her sudden addition to their party. Still, she wished they would treat her with basic human respect.

  She still wasn’t sure of His reasoning, but she did know that it was important. Like the other witches around her, she had been gifted with a Grimoire with the instructions to fill it with her knowledge to pass down to future generations and a list of those descendants. However, unlike her fellow witches, hers listed only seven generations, a secret she was intent on keeping from the others. She had no idea if it meant her line would die off or lose their magic after the seventh generation, but it sent a shiver of apprehension through her every time she opened the tome.

  The meeting began, and each coven leader expressed complaints about current events that were reshaping their ways of life. Demons, Hunters, and other Supernaturals causing mischief, or a few spells gone wrong were brought up before the conversation turned to non-magical news. John Adams featured in many colorful, but luckily non-magical curses, before they moved on. The topic that made everyone start speaking at once was her home state of New York abolishing slavery. As the only witch originating in New York, and one of only a few from America, a lot of the comments were directed at her. She politely, but firmly, expressed her full support for the move. Luckily, she was not alone in that opinion, but it was not shared by everyone at the table.

  The new legal development particularly outraged the European witches, although Evelyn didn’t understand why they had slaves when they had magic. And yet, they used their need to conceal their powers as justification for keeping slaves. She knew they were lying. The Salem Witch Trials were less than two hundred years old and she, among other witches in America knew how to use her magic while remaining undetected. If they were able to carry on so soon after a witch hunt, her magical European sisters could certainly do the same.

  Once the meeting concluded, Evelyn went home. As a woman alone on the mostly dark streets of New York, one would think she would be terrified. However, she moved with purpose and the confidence of knowing she had magic on her side, especially on this Halloween night when the veil between the earthly and spirit realms. She could feel her powers swelling within her, their power magnified beyond their normal limits.

  The witching hour was drawing to a close, but she needed to complete a spell before it ended. She was unclear when it became clear to her, but she was absolutely certain that it was absolutely necessary to preserve her line. Which struck her as slightly odd given she still had yet to meet someone, let alone her soulmate, and having children was still a far-future concern. Despite these facts, and though the specific threats against her descendants were still unimaginable to her, nothing dampened the urgency and compulsion she felt to perform the protection spell.

  When she arrived home, she lit seven candles, one for each magical generation listed in the Grimoire, including herself. She pricked her finger with a needle and let the blood fall into the small bowl she had placed in the center of the candles. Clasping her hands together, Evelyn closed her eyes and began to pray in English for peace, prosperity, and protection for her future family and descendants before repeating the same prayer in French, Mandarin, Swahili, Hebrew, Arabic, and finally Latin: Protego hanc domum a malo. Oro posteris meis stirpique vigemusque intacta crudelitatis. These languages that she had never spoken much less studied flowed through her from a higher understanding, the words forming on her lips effortlessly.

  She kept going until the clock in the hall signaled the end of the witching hour. She blew out the candles, put away the bowl and cleaned her hands.

  That night, she dreamed of greeting her great-great-great-great-granddaughter as a young woman on her 16th birthday. She woke up the next morning at peace with the otherworldly knowledge that her family would be okay.

  * * *

  A few months later, Evelyn woke up sick to her stomach. Her husband fed her and cared for her until she recovered. He assumed it was bad food, but she suspected it was something more serious. Similar to when she had received her magic, she sensed that there was something different within her. Like then, she originally unaware of the specific change and what it meant for her future. But the sickness did not go away. It happened a few days later. And again, and again, until it was happening every morning.

  By the time she was used to the uncomfortable ritual, Evelyn understood what was happening. She was pregnant. She went to visit her husband and work, turning the heads of his coworkers as she waited for his lunch break.

  “Evelyn! You’re here. Is something wrong, darling?” he asked, bringing her into his office.

  She shook her head. “No, I just wanted to tell you in person.”

  He stared at her, examining her face for clues.

  “It’s not bad news.” She smiled at him. “I’m pregnant.”

  A matching smile broke out on her husband’s face. He pulled her in for a kiss. She kissed him back with all the love and passion she had inside her.

  “Do you know what it will
be?” He gently cupped her stomach.

  She shook her head. “It’s still very early. But I have a feeling it will be a girl.”

  “I’ll spoil her just like her mother.”

  Evelyn kissed him again. “I just wanted to tell you. I’ll let you get back to work now.”

  “You have made me the happiest man today, darling.”

  “You said the same thing on our wedding.”

  He kissed her forehead. “It’s as true now as it was then.”

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  On her way home, her mind drifted back to her familial protection spell. It was still early, but now Evelyn knew that the spell had worked to push her closer to her destiny of being the coven leader she had been Chosen to be.

  The only problem she now faced was that, like her non-magical parents, her husband didn’t know about her special powers. She would have to tell him soon.

  2

  Cassandra’s Choice

  Cassandra was a miracle baby, in more ways than one. Her mother had been past her prime child-bearing years and caught the deadly Spanish Flu outbreak of 1918, and she was born that December, despite every doctor warning her father that she and her mother would likely die before then.

  Even after her birth, Cassandra and her mother continued to thrive where many others died from the disease. Had she been born three centuries earlier, she would have likely been accused of being touched by the Devil and burned at the stake. But they couldn’t have been further from the truth. Within the first pages of her family’s Grimoire, her ancestor Evelyn had cast a protection spell against evil forces over their entire line. Each generation since, the Belgrave witch would reinforce the spell with her own blood.

  Now twenty years old, it was Cassandra’s turn to partake in the ritual. Her father had passed away when she was ten, and her mother, who lived, seemed to have still left the Earthly plane to join him just a few years later. Newly married to a fae who was masquerading as a human businessman, Cassandra knew that it was only a matter of time before she herself was personally contributing to the continuation of the Belgrave line. If her suspicions were correct, she was already on her way to becoming a mother. She smiled, imagining what her daughter would look like. She already knew she would name her Stella, the Grimoire had the name inscribed under hers.

  When she arrived home from the office building where she typed the hours away, Cassandra could immediately sense something was wrong. Staying in the car, she mentally called him. Kalen?

  Yes, my love?

  She used her magic to peer into their home but couldn’t see anything glaringly wrong. Are you home yet?

  No, I’m almost there. Is something wrong?

  I’m not sure. Despite everything appearing normal, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Her mother had taught her early the importance of listening to her instincts, and she wasn’t about to ignore that lesson now.

  Stay where you are.

  No more than five seconds later, he appeared sitting next to her. “There’s been an intruder,” he said, grimly. “They’re fae, and probably looking for me.”

  “But why? You don’t pose a threat to the King, and you haven’t done anything to threaten exposure of Supernaturals.”

  “It’s not me they’re after,” he said. “It’s another Fae hiding in the human world. It’s why I was sent here to begin with.”

  “But why are they here, Kalen? I don’t feel safe with their energy lingering. It’s dark.”

  Her husband sighed. “They’re clearly upset that I haven’t given them any news in a while. Not since before I met you, in fact.”

  “What were they going to do?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. But now that I’m here, we can go in together and face them. Be brave, my love, they enjoy the taste of fear, I’m afraid.”

  “Will they hurt me?”

  “I won’t let them.”

  He opened the door and helped her out of the car. Wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side, he moved them up their stoop.

  Once the front door closed behind them, four fully-armed fae warriors appeared. “You’ve been slacking, Kalen,” one of them sneered. “Consorting with a lowly witch—how charitable of you.”

  She felt him growl from deep in his chest before she heard it. “Show some respect, Cassius. This is my wife.”

  “Because you said some vows in front of a human judge? You know that fae do not marry Outsiders.”

  Kalen took a menacing step forward, but she placed a firm hand on his chest and moved between him and the other fae warriors. He focused his angry gaze on her, then registering her face, visibly calmed down.

  “Neutered like a common dog,” Cassius spat.

  Kalen took a deep breath and addressed one of the others. “Why are you all here, Aeden, besides to ridicule the love of my life?”

  “The King demands your presence. Immediately.”

  “I have nothing to say to him besides my reports, and since no new information has arisen, I see no point in seeing him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous Kalen, you know he loves you. Your banishment was only meant to teach you humility. You were never meant to stay here permanently. Your uncle is dying and your people need to you return and take his place.”

  Cassandra couldn’t believe her ears. She had known her husband was part of the royal family, but he had failed to mention just how central his connection to the crown was.

  “I’m not leaving her behind.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Cassius interjected. “You know you have to marry a fae to continue the royal line.”

  “I’m pregnant.” Cassandra squeezed her husband’s hand. “I’m pregnant, Kalen.”

  He kissed her.

  Of course, it didn’t last long.

  Aeden cleared his throat. “If you don’t come with us willingly, we’ll be forced to break your ties to this world.”

  Kalen pushed her behind him. “Over my dead body.”

  “Actually, it wouldn’t.”

  One of the fae grabbed her from behind. It happened so fast, she didn’t even think to fight him off. She hadn’t even noticed that he was no longer standing with the others.

  “If you harm her, I’ll execute you all on the spot. You’ll have committed treason against your Crown Prince.”

  No one moved, but she felt the soldier holding her lightly loosen his grip as a flare of fear lit up his aura.

  “Your uncle granted us permission to do anything necessary.”

  Before the fae restraining her could tighten his grip again, she murmured a spell, immobilizing him and the other soldiers while also blinding their senses.

  Cassandra stood in front of her husband and held his face in her hands. “If your kingdom needs you, I think you should go, Kalen.”

  He took her hands in his own and squeezed. “What are you saying? I’m not leaving you behind. Especially not our future child.”

  “Daughter,” she corrected, now that the unwelcome visitors couldn’t hear them.

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “It’s part of being a Belgrave witch.”

  “I’m not leaving you, my love and wife, and our unborn daughter alone and unprotected. Even if I wasn’t here, witches are often targeted by humans and Hunters alike. I could help protect you.”

  She shook her head. “If you stay, I’ll be forced to either flee and always worry about fae coming after me to ensure your compliance, or I’ll have to do my best to protect my daughter. And if it came down to that, I would kill fae soldiers, which would not only ruin your relationship with your people, but also inflame relationships between witches and fae. And we both know that wouldn’t be good for anyone.”

  “No,” he said, drawing her into his arms and hugging her tightly. “I refuse to accept that those are the only two options. We are smarter than that. We don’t have to bend to their will. And I won’t allow
them to blackmail a fae royal. They can’t threaten their Crown Prince without repercussions.”

  “You heard them. They’re taking orders from the king.” She searched his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me you were next in line? I thought we told each other everything, Kalen.”

  “I didn’t think it was necessary. As you heard Aeden point out, I was banished from fae court before I met you. I had no expectation my royal blood still mattered to the king, and no desire to return even if he had ever pardoned me.”

  “What did you do to be banished at all? I always understood fae to value family above all. You certainly do.”

  “We fundamentally disagree on many topics. He’s a blood purist, as is Cassius and many others, who believes the fae are superior to all other Supernaturals and refuses to mingle with them unless he needs something from another community. Like his agreement with the witches to keep our kind hidden from Hunters and reduce our existence to myth for humans in return for some fae knowledge of magic when he’s feeling generous, which is a rare occasion.”

  “That still doesn’t justify banishment.”

  “He didn’t take my dissent well and decided it best if I left to maintain unity.”

  Cassandra scoffed. “Of course.”

  “So, you see why I won’t be following his orders now that he’s suddenly dying.”

  She kissed him, imbuing the gesture with all the love she felt for him. “That doesn’t change that you still have to go back, Kalen. You can punish these guards when you’re king, if you want, but do you really want our daughter to be hunted by the fae because they’ll see her as a threat to the royal line you will have with another fae?”

  “I love you. I’m not marrying another, Cassandra.”

  “I can’t make you do anything, but please be reasonable about this. You can protect us much better by leaving now. And if we ever cross paths again, I will be overjoyed. But right now, you have a duty to your people and I have a duty to my legacy.”