Wicked Magic: Harper Shadow Academy (Book Three) Read online

  “Mad? Why would I be?”

  I shrug. “Angry, jealous, any of those?”

  He shakes his head. “No, Will. I think it’s safe to say we all have some super-secret silent agreement of whatever this is, and somehow, we’re all on the same page. For me, and probably everyone else included, we just care about you. Want the best for you. And if that involves all or none of us, that’s what goes. Although we’d prefer the former. We’ve been through a lot together, all of us. No sense in breaking that up over territorial issues. If they’re treating you right, that’s what matters to me. I’m good, no, I’m great, with what we have, our tiny group of superheroes.”

  My heart seems to swell with emotion. I’ll never be able to comprehend how I got so fucking lucky with the four of them. They all have rare and wonderful qualities I adore and have grown fond of. I can’t imagine a life without the guys in it, and from what Deghan is saying, maybe I won’t ever have to.

  With all the crazy shit going on for me, how can I be so sure that they’re getting what they deserve from me, though? I need to pay more attention to their individual needs and leave them feeling as loved and cared for as I do. Maybe this will help me focus on something other than the ticking clock until I can use the Reperio stone again to try to locate my mom and dad.

  “You’re too good to me, you really are.” I make my way across the dorm, stepping close to Deghan.

  He cups my chin in his hand. “You’re worth it, little one.”

  “What’re we eatin’?” I say without taking my eyes off his.

  His grin beams wider. “Are we talking about food now?”

  I laugh and shove him.

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. Speaking of Cam, though.” He flinches in anticipation for another swing. “He’s made us sandwiches, and we’re eating in Sydney’s room.”

  That has to mean that Silas is not joining us. Where could he have run off to? Maybe he’s feeding in his own style.

  We make our way from my place, heading across the common area, walking next to the glass floor of the garden below. I tense and step somewhat away.

  Deghan pulls me close to him in response.

  “One of these days, that thing is going to bust.” I eyeball the greenery and it’s encasement suspiciously.

  “You afraid of heights?” he asks.

  “I’m more skeptical of unexpected thirty-foot drops onto a tree.”

  “At least it would break your fall.”

  “Not helping.”

  “That thing is rock-solid and probably spelled with magic. How else do you think those plants flourish so well in there?”

  I have always wondered about the complexities of the garden and all its glory. Magic does make sense to how it’s possible.

  Without knocking, Deghan opens Sydney’s door and waltzes inside like he owns the place. “’Sup?” He heads straight to the food splayed out on the small table.

  Sydney looks up from the book in his hand and waves, going right back to the text.

  “Hey, Wills.” Cam blushes and averts his gaze.

  “Oh, righttttt,” Deghan says with a mouthful. “You two haven’t seen each other since…”

  At this, Sydney perks up. “Since what?”

  “She fell down the stairs,” Cameron speaks up.

  I internally thank him for not letting Syd in on our library shenanigans.

  “You did?” Syd furrows his brows.

  I nod. “Yeah, but I’m fine.” I eye the selection of food and take one of the sandwiches that Cam was kind enough to make. I settle into one of the chairs and dig in, thoroughly enjoying the deliciousness. How can someone take something so ordinary and make it taste so good? “Is this another one of those sauces you’re experimenting with?” I glance over to Cam and catch Deghan’s wide stare boring into me.

  I roll my eyes at him.

  “My own spin on honey mustard,” Cameron confirms.

  “It’s quite tasty.” I take another bite and reach for the pitcher of tea. “You guys don’t have to suffer through unsweet on my behalf.”

  “I prefer it,” Sydney chimes in.

  “Really?”

  “Yep.” He closes and sets aside his work, coming over to sit with me. “What are you doing after you eat?” Sydney peeks at me while he sips from his cup.

  I make eye contact with Deghan briefly. “Degs wanted to study in the library.”

  “Oh cool, mind if I join you two? I have a few things I need to research and was going to see if you wanted to come along.”

  “The more the merrier,” Deghan answers.

  We finish our lunch and help Cameron clean up until he insists he has it under control.

  “Watch your footing on your way down,” he whispers to me. He takes the trash out of my hands. “Seriously, be careful.”

  “Right, of course.” I bob my head up and down in understanding.

  “Can we… can we talk later?”

  I swallow, the uncertainty of the situation growing. Does he regret kissing me? Here I thought I was living on cloud nine with the guys, but maybe Cameron doesn’t feel the same. I should have never assumed any of them did.

  “I’m going to make a cup of coffee. Do either of you want one?” Sydney looks to me and then points to Deghan.

  “Sure,” I say, but it ends up answering both of the questions at hand.

  “My man.” Deghan slaps Sydney on the back in a bro kind of way. “Here.” He holds his arm out for Sydney’s bag. “I’ll take that for you and meet you in the library.”

  I use the opportunity to mutter to Cam, “When we’re done studying?”

  “Okay.” His expression is unreadable.

  It’s everything I can do to not assume the worst.

  “Will, do you need to stop by your room, or are you good?” Deghan stands near the door.

  “No, I left everything down there.” I exchange one last look with Cam and leave his side.

  The burning analyzation consumes me to the point that it’s all I can think about on our way downstairs.

  Deghan said we are all on the same page, but maybe we aren’t?

  Chapter Three

  I manage to get to the basement without almost falling on my face, which is a huge improvement from earlier. I let Deghan lead the way since he has a better understanding than I do of where the room that Abigail secured for me is.

  Usually, I have the beacon on me, but this time it’s sitting on my nightstand next to the book Silas loaned me that I haven’t had the chance to read yet.

  Deghan is unusually quiet, so I break the silence. “What are you working on today?”

  We funnel into the room, and he places Syd’s belongings on a nearby chair. “Wolf stuff.”

  Is he more shut down than normal? “Do you need any help?”

  “Nope.” He smiles. “But I’ll be right back. I have to get a couple books from a different section.”

  “Okay…”

  He leaves, and my loneliness grows super noticeable. I’m becoming too damn dependent on the guys and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. It’s not that I can’t handle being alone, it’s that there is such comfort with them around, that the void of their absences is that much more evident each time it happens.

  Luckily, though, Sydney comes strolling in at the same time I’m trying to find a book to occupy my thoughts.

  The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and vanilla fills the air.

  I take one of the three cups he holds tightly in a triangle. “Thank you.”

  He sets the one on the table and takes the lid off the other, blowing lightly on the steamy liquid.

  I can’t help but stare at his lips and reminisce on our time here not too long ago.

  Apparently, I have an itch that needs to be scratched, because every time I glance at any of my guys, I want to pounce. I need to stay focused and not so consumed with physicalities.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Sydney asks.

  Shit. Am I that
obvious?

  “Umm…” Come on Willow, think of something. “Nothing. Zoning out.” Good one, idiot.

  “You’re lying.” He brings the mug to his mouth, testing to see how hot the drink still is.

  I have to look away to stop myself from gawking.

  For once, I force my mind to think about my mom, the endless curse, anything other than what I’d rather be doing at this very moment. Typically, that’s all that’s on the brain—my mother and how to end this living nightmare—but with Sydney giving off copious amounts of sex appeal doing barely nothing, it’s a growing challenge.

  “You zoning out again?”

  I snatch a book off the tall stack in front of me. “Yep.”

  Flipping it open, I resolve into a chair, eager to escape my own mind.

  For a while, I read about cosmic witches and how they use celestial things to fuel their powers. Some of them use the entire cosmos, while others practice specifically with the stars or moon or certain planets. For each type of emphasis, it’s broken down even further to types based on exclusive constellations, or planets, like Pluto or Saturn. Apparently, the ones that deal with Jupiter are deemed Jovian witches, and their emphasis is on good fortune, prosperity, and luck.

  Seems I could use some Jovian magic in my life.

  I turn the page, glancing over at Sydney and Deghan, both faces down in their books. I hadn’t detected Deghan had come in.

  Next up is green witches. Something that Abigail and Walker have said that I am. A witch that uses natural and living things. They think that because I have a connection with flowers, that they speak to me, or offer me guidance, that I am one with the earth.

  If that is a hereditary trait, it would make sense, considering my mother always had a garden and often put a lot of emphasis on maintaining its success.

  According to the text, if I am in fact a green witch, it would help me to start bottling rain and snow and bits of soil to use for casting more powerful spells I can’t conjure on my own. I should be on the lookout for rocks and animal fossils, too.

  “Whoa,” I accidentally say out loud.

  “What’s wrong?” Sydney says.

  “Are fairies real?” The words exit my mouth, and I can’t help but feel silly for asking.

  Sydney leans back. “Well, according to legends, yes.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Vampires are real. So are witches and werewolves. Why wouldn’t you believe in the fae folk?”

  “I guess if you put it that way.” I pause. “But you haven’t seen one? Or heard of any instances?”

  “My family is more traditional, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s a green witch specialty.”

  But they think I’m a green witch.

  “I’ve heard rumors,” Deghan adds. “Talk in the pack is that they’re randomly making appearances here and there.”

  “What?” I say to him.

  “I thought it was a joke.” He shrugs. “But maybe with all this curse business and the fact that you’re potentially green and all.” He rubs his chin. “Maybe they’re coming back for you, to help you or something.”

  First the angels, and now fairies. What else could I possibly be tied to?

  I let my gaze fall onto the book, on the following page. The image sends chills down my spine. Black horns attached to a floating creature with even darker wings, nothing comparable to those flowy powder-white angel wings I’m so familiar with. To this figure’s right is another creature, one with a goat-shaped head and a long wavy beard. It resembles the form of a man but with half animalistic features. In its arms is a limp baby, a haze going toward the being like it’s sucking the life out of the infant.

  The words demonic witch come into my line of sight. Descended from the Devil himself, these types of witches are fueled by stealing the power of others. They perform wicked magic, often to gain more influence and clout to take advantage of weaker witches. Over time, their spell work became more sophisticated, and they better learned to disguise themselves from others. Most of the time, hiding in plain sight.

  For a short period, there were demonic witch hunts, and ordinary witches were falsely accused and executed. On only a few occasions were actual demon witches found and exterminated.

  Elizabeth Howe and Susannah Martin were two of the innocents who were taken and killed. A few months later, it was found out that they were wrongly killed. At that point, the hunts stopped, in fear that more harmless people would die.

  Over the many years to follow, occasions of withering crops and plague-type illnesses were tied to demonic witches, but because they were always one step ahead, they were never found and punished. To stay undetected, they prey upon witches who want to convert, to gain the kind of strength the demonic one’s harbor, and have them do their bidding.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Wills,” Deghan says calmly, concern lining his voice.

  I shake my head to rid myself of the nasty images. “Was reading about some terrible things that happened.”

  “Why don’t you call it quits for the day? You’re a little pale.”

  My mind wanders to those angel wings that often pop up in my vision.

  Angel wings.

  Silas had told me that he thought I was descended from the angels. And that other witches were descended from all sorts of other things… including the Devil.

  And these demonic witches steal the power of others.

  I’m cursed, and with that, demons are trying to take my power. The Oliver witches have had their power suppressed and stolen for decades.

  I’ve been going in circles trying to figure out how and why, and never once getting close to who… but maybe, just maybe, we’re cursed by a coven of demonic witches.

  That would make sense, especially with how they’re able to channel and tap into our powers. They’ve had that ability for as long as they have been in creation.

  All along, I never considered the drastic opposite of what being created by the angels meant.

  This is a blood feud.

  A blood feud between the angels and the Devil.

  And here I am, my birthright that I have to fight the battle to free my kind.

  I thought this was strictly an Oliver witch thing, but no, this is much bigger than that.

  “Yeah, good idea.” I grab the now cold coffee off the table and tip it back. The lid buckles, flopping to the floor, and the rest of the contents dump all down the front of my shirt. Jumping up, I mutter obscenities and shove the books away so they don’t get soaked, too.

  Deghan and Sydney are at my side in an instant.

  “Here, let me take those,” Sydney offers.

  Deghan rips his shirt off and dabs mine to help clean me up.

  It’s all I can do to not stop and stare at his chiseled form.

  “I’m fine, really. Don’t ruin your clothes on account of me.”

  “I’m not a huge fan of this shirt anyway.” Deghan winks and continues to wipe me down, ridding my arms of the coffee mess.

  First, falling down the stairs, and now spilling my drink all over myself? What is my day?

  Sydney gets all the texts to another table and somehow found a roll of paper towels. “Why don’t you go get a shower? I have this under control.”

  “Are you sure? I’m sorry I’m so clumsy.” My shirt sticks to my chest in a sticky and totally uncomfortable way.

  “Yes, Will, go.” He does another pass over my chair.

  I scan him for any irritation but all I sense are good intentions.

  “I’ll walk you back,” Deghan adds.

  We make our way out of the library in awkward silence until I glance over at him.

  “Are you going to stroll through the school topless?”

  “Is that a problem for you?” He grins and nudges my arm.

  “Maybe,” I mutter.

  I get across the foyer in a hurry, not wanting any to draw any more attention than normal. I jog up the west dorm stairs, Deghan following close behind.<
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  We enter my room, and I head straight to the shower, turning the water on to heat up.

  “You good in there?” Deghan calls through the half-open bathroom door. “I’m going to head out.”

  A bolt of uncertainty flows through me. “Umm.”

  “What is it?” He pokes his head inside. “What’s wrong?”

  I avert my gaze to the floor—for some reason, a heavy nervousness devours me. “Do you mind staying?”

  “Yeah, sure, absolutely. Whatever you need.” He steps into the room. “Want some help?” He points toward the coffee-soaked shirt clinging to my body.

  I nod, and he strides toward me.

  He places his hands at the hem of my top and looks into my eyes for approval.

  I raise my arms in response, letting him remove the ruined garment.

  It gets tangled in my hair, and we both have to squirm around a little for it to come free.

  When it does, we accidentally fall into each other, both of us giggling.

  The steam from the hot water fills the room and attaches to our bodies.

  Both of us go quiet.

  Without thinking, I reach out and lay my hand on his chest, over his heart. The rapid thudding matches my own pulse.

  He trails my face with his gaze, hesitating on my lips, and making his way back to my eyes. Deghan runs his fingers up my arm, along my shoulder, landing on the side of my face, gripping it firmly. His thumb rubs a small spot on my cheek, and he whispers, “Oh, Willow.”

  His words are my undoing. I give in to the stress of life, the stupidness of the day, the unending desire I have raging through me. I stand on my tiptoes to reach him, and he leans down to meet me.

  His luscious lips weave their way onto mine, and our breath becomes one.

  All at once, he lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his torso.

  How is it possible to have so much fucking chemistry with each of my guys?

  Deghan sets me on the counter, and I go to unbutton his pants.

  He pulls back. “Are you sure?”

  I reel him in without skipping a beat. “Mmhm,” I mumble.

  He smirks against my lips and kisses me more intensely than a moment ago. His grip finds my waist, tugging my leggings and panties at the same time over my bottom and onto the floor.