Harley Merlin and the Secret Coven Read online

  “And after that?” I asked, not sure I was liking my post-trial-period prospects if they involved compulsory joining.

  “Think of it this way. You’ll learn to control and develop your abilities, you’ll get a better understanding of the magical culture, and you’ll get to meet other witches and warlocks while you’re here,” Alton explained. “All we need you to do is work with us and obey the rules. Consider this trial period a stepping stone to something better. We need to assess you in the long term, and this is the best way. It’ll teach you a few things about self-control, and you’ll better understand why we need to stick together.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” I replied.

  “No, it doesn’t. I’ll be honest—your options will be limited at the end of this trial. You either join the coven or leave town and go somewhere where other covens will accept you as unaffiliated, though your chances are slim on that one. We cannot have it any other way. This coven is young, and it has been through years of neglect. In order for us to turn it around, we have to be strict. The one thing we don’t want to do is encourage rogues. There are a lot of eyes on us right now, and we can’t afford any mistakes. Plus, I’m confident that, by the end of this trial period, you’ll want to stay with us. The coven is like a big family. While we don’t carry a blood connection, we’re tied by something much deeper, and far more powerful.”

  “So, it’s either join or get out, as long as it doesn’t affect your public image, right?” I concluded, my stomach aching with the prospects. Their attitude toward rogues sounded pretty shallow from where I stood, particularly after they’d been so adamant in describing their desire to keep humans safe from harmful magic. It seemed as though they were more worried about their reputation than anything else.

  I was an independent creature, and I’d been through a lot to get to this point. My freedom was my most precious asset, and I had no intention of handing it over to anyone, not even a coven. On the other hand, I didn’t want to skip town, either. This city was everything I knew. I had roots here, no matter how skinny they were.

  “As an unaffiliated rogue, you’ll just end up going through the same hoops with different covens. Nobody wants a magical who can’t be registered or controlled, not after what our people went through during the past four centuries. However, there is a third option, of you making a solid case for yourself as a Neutral and gaining permission to keep living in San Diego, as long as you don’t use your magic on humans. And that will come with a lot of monitoring and potential imprisonment, if you break the rules of such an accord. But the decision will not be made by the coven. It will be made by California’s Council of Mages,” Alton said. “And if you want them on your side, you need to help them get to know you better. Which brings us back to—”

  “The one-month trial period,” I said, nodding slowly.

  Okay, it wasn’t too bad. At least there were options. I could spend the next month assessing the coven, in return. This was a serious, life-changing commitment, and I hadn’t even decided what college I wanted to go to.

  “That sounds reasonable,” I added. “Though, I wouldn’t hold my breath, if I were you.”

  “That’s fine, Harley.” Alton chuckled. “I don’t expect you to even consider a decision yet. But you should know that the trial period is the only way I can give you time to think things through. The Council… let’s just say they’re not easy to deal with.”

  We reached the end of the hallway, where a set of double doors awaited. He pushed them open and went in. I followed, gawking at the sheer size of the room, which was shaped like a dome. A massive chandelier poured down from the ceiling in swirls of brass and tear-shaped crystals. The walls were a slate gray, with gilded details, and four giant bronze dragons gazed at me from symmetrical points around the room.

  Ten rows of individual desks were placed in a semicircular pattern, facing a floor-to-ceiling blackboard and a solid oak table loaded with books and various study objects, including a gorgeous, hand-painted globe with a map of the world.

  Three large French windows covered the walls to my left and right, providing a healthy amount of natural light. Six magicals stood in front of the oak table, watching and smiling as we walked toward them.

  “This is one of the six classrooms we provide for our young magicals,” Alton said. “You’ll be expected to attend lessons with the rest of the kids. You’ll be the oldest, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem. And these are our six preceptors.”

  “Preceptors?” I replied, quickly scanning the three men and three women patiently waiting for us at the end of the narrow corridor between study desks.

  “Trainers. Instructors. Teachers.” Alton offered synonyms, prompting me to purse my lips. I may have gone through two years of prep school, but it didn’t mean that everything they’d taught me had actually stuck. “They are here to help magicals control and develop their abilities, to teach them history and spells, and to provide guidance whenever necessary. Most of them were already here when I joined, but I’ve established two more subjects for the kids, as part of the upgrade of the coven.”

  “Welcome to the San Diego Coven, Harley,” one of the witches said, offering a broad smile, while the others quietly measured me from head to toe, already forming their own opinions about me. The common emotion between them was curiosity. They all wanted to find out more about me, and it was a weird feeling, given that I’d spent most of my life trying my best not to stand out.

  “Harley Smith, this is Jacintha Parks,” Alton said. “She’s the preceptor of Alchemy and Occult Chemistry. Her title is somewhat self-explanatory; I trust you don’t need me to explain anything at this point. She’s also our resident… pharmacist.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why the pause, though?”

  “Because they’ve yet to figure out another term for the health services that I provide.” Jacintha grinned. “Thing is, aside from what I teach, I also procure medication and healing herbs for the magicals of this coven. I work closely with Adley de la Barthe on this, but neither of us is a medical professional, so our paperwork is a little vague.”

  I nodded slowly, taking in every detail of her appearance. Jacintha was slightly taller than me, and slender, poured into a dark green velvet suit complete with a snug waistcoat and white shirt. The gold cufflinks and buttons brought out her amber eyes, and she kept her long black hair in a tight bun. Her features offered hints of Spanish heritage.

  “This is Hiro Nomura, preceptor of Physical Magic. Everything related to attack and defense spells belongs to Hiro. He’s also a master swordsman, well-versed in human forms of combat,” Alton continued, introducing one of the warlocks. This guy looked like he’d been in a war or two, with several slim scars crossing the left side of his face. He wore a black tunic, simple and elegant, with broad sleeves. His name and features betrayed his Japanese origins, his black hair cut short, and his cheekbones sharp enough to slice a mango in half. I was particularly fascinated by the color of his eyes, as one was blue, and the other an almost reddish orange. I’d never seen such a combination before.

  “It is an honor,” Hiro said, bowing curtly before me. I responded with a brief nod.

  “Our athletics and combat instructors report to Hiro,” Alton explained. “Including O’Halloran, whom I believe you’ve already met?”

  “Yeah, sort of. He said he wants to see what I’m made of later, though I’m not sure I like the thought of that,” I murmured.

  Alton chuckled, while the others, including Hiro, smiled. I wasn’t sure if they were laughing at me or O’Halloran.

  “O’Halloran is quite a firecracker,” Alton replied. “But he’s a very good instructor, and a friend of Hiro’s.”

  “I take it you’re all tight here,” I said, noticing the warmth exuding from all of them at once. There was a bond between them, something profound and far more powerful than that between siblings—a deep affection that probably had more to do with their abilities as magicals, rather than a
nything else.

  “Like I said, we’re a family here,” Alton replied. “We stick together.”

  “How do you know how ‘tight’ we are?” another witch asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

  She was just as fascinating as Hiro, mainly because she was atypical, and had nothing to point out her profession as a preceptor. Her pale blonde hair was short, a smooth buzzcut that brought out her big eyes—a peculiarly bright shade of amber with flakes of gold. She looked more like a goth band groupie, with a swath of tattoos covering the left side of her face and neck, and I assumed there were more beneath the layers of black leather she’d tucked herself into. Metal accents and piercings jingled whenever she moved.

  “Harley, meet Sloane Bellmore, preceptor of Charms and Hexes. It’s a new subject we’re teaching in the coven, as there is a lot to cover beyond the boundaries of Occult Chemistry. Sloane will teach you how to cast them and, most importantly, how to break them, covering everything from charmed objects to curses. Not all magicals are good, and that’s where we come in,” Alton said, then smiled at Sloane. “You should all know that Harley here is an Empath. She tends to know things that we don’t normally share with the world.”

  “Yeah, I know what an Empath is, Alton. I just didn’t know she was one of them,” Sloane replied, somewhat irritated as she glanced at me. I couldn’t read her, though, just like I couldn’t read O’Halloran or the platinum-haired guy back at the living quarters. I’d yet to figure out why, but that was only a matter of time. Chances were that she was putting on the tough-girl act, just to keep others from getting too friendly.

  Sound like someone you know?

  “Nice to meet you,” I replied with a nod, which she briskly returned.

  “And this is Oswald Redmont,” Alton continued, introducing a short but spry middle-aged man with sprinkles of white in his light brown hair.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harley,” Oswald replied. “I’m the preceptor of International Magic Cultures. I teach crafts from across the world, both binding and unbinding. And before you ask, yes, that includes voodoo, hoodoo, Santeria, and all the real, good stuff. Not what you find on the Internet these days.”

  “The key to this course is for our magicals to understand, recognize, and counteract magic from all over the world,” Alton explained. “America is a melting pot, after all, of so many different cultures. It would be difficult to do our jobs without knowing what we’re dealing with.”

  “And the stuff you find on the Internet?” I replied. “Any of it real?”

  “Have you tried it?” Oswald smirked, crossing his arms.

  “Nope.”

  “Good. Don’t. It’s all a waste of time. None of it works. We just put a lot of bogus lore out there to keep the humans busy. Not that they’d be able to perform any of it, anyway, but we’ve been deceiving humanity with made-up magic rituals for millennia. That’s something you’ll better understand once you start attending Mr. Ickes’s classes,” replied Oswald. He nodded at the warlock standing next to him.

  “Speaking of which, Harley, meet Lasher Ickes.” Alton continued with the introductions. “The preceptor of Coven and Magical History. He’s in charge of all our archives and historical documents and teaches our culture from its earliest days to the present, including our brushes with mankind.”

  “Like the Salem witch trials and so on?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Lasher nodded. He was slightly taller than me and wiry, with pale blond hair, watery blue eyes, and glasses, looking like the typical nerd you’d find in the Sunday newspaper cartoons.

  “Not a man of many words, I see,” I murmured, as he smiled and shook my hand.

  “Lasher is shy by nature,” Alton replied with amusement, “but he’s also very strict and an accomplished historian. I think he’ll have a lot of answers for you, Harley. And last, but certainly not least, meet Marianne Gracelyn, preceptor of Herbalism.”

  Marianne was a beautiful young witch with long red hair. Her bell-shaped jeans, loose cotton shirt, and plethora of colored beads and feathers reminded me of a hippie thrift store, in a good way. There was just something positive beaming out of her, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Hi, Harley.” Marianne smiled, and we shook hands. The moment my skin touched hers, I was inundated with a sense of calm and serenity—like Ryann times a hundred. If there was one word I could use to describe Marianne, it was “good.” Just good, and kind, and decent. Rarely did I form an opinion about someone so quickly, but when that happened, it was set in stone. I was never wrong.

  “So, herbalism, huh?” I asked.

  “Mm-hm,” she said with a wink. “It’s mostly stuff of Wiccan origin, healing potions, growth spells with herbs and crystals. The whole worship-Mother-Earth thing, basically. It might sound romantic, but we have a rich culture of herbalism, and everything I teach is bound to come in handy sooner or later. I’m directly connected to the earth.”

  We all looked at each other for a few moments, as if they were giving me some time to adjust to all the new faces and names. I got a positive vibe out of all of this. Alton was right—if I was looking for someone who could provide me with answers, these preceptors were the people to talk to.

  “Now, to clarify, we need to bring your life in order,” Alton said, while the preceptors listened with interest. “All our students take part-time or full-time jobs at the Science Center, as part of an adjustment period. We’ve recently filled all our reception positions, but we do have a couple of open spots in the Archives and Library. One is yours.”

  “I already have a job,” I said, frowning slightly.

  “Spotting cheaters in a casino?” Alton replied, raising an eyebrow. “Surely we can put your gifts to better use here, Harley.”

  “In the Archives and Library?” I shot back.

  “No, that will be your cover. Working a human job in the beginning is an essential way of helping a magical fully integrate into human society. It’s also a steady source of income, especially since I’ve gotten the Center to increase its salaries,” Alton said. “You’ll only be working for three to four hours, four days a week, and it will be enough to keep you financially satisfied.”

  “Dude, I’ve got rent to pay. On a good night at the casino I walk out with three grand,” I replied, shaking my head. “I’m saving up for college. How well does your museum job pay, for me to give up on the casino?”

  “It’s only for a month, to begin with. Just to see how you would fare with a job at the Center,” Alton explained. “Whatever you make in a month at the casino, on average, I will make sure to pay through the Archives and Library. You have my word on that. After the trial period is over, we can assess everything and see what the best options are, for you and for us. I doubt the casino would refuse to take you back in a month. I understand you’re quite skilled.”

  His appreciative smile succeeded in tickling my little ego. I thrived on validation, anyway. Whenever Malcolm told me I did a good job, I was over the moon and eager to start the next shift. And, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, Alton was right. The casino would have no problem with taking me back.

  “I’d also like for you to move in here for the trial month,” Alton continued, and I instantly shook my head.

  That wasn’t going to happen, for two reasons. First, I needed to give a three-month notice if I planned to move—I’d signed a crappy lease. And second, I didn’t want the coven to have that much control over my life. It was enough that they were going to employ me and teach me, and basically feed me. I didn’t feel comfortable with them putting a roof over my head. After all my foster experiences, that was just a big fat no.

  “I can’t just move out of my apartment that easily,” I replied. “And besides, we need to get to know each other a little better before I give the coven that much control over my life.”

  Alton thought about it for a couple of seconds, then pursed his lips and nodded in agreement.

  “Fair enough. I’ll let you t
hink about it some more, then,” he said, scratching his chin. “I need to do an in-depth assessment in the meantime. There’s something about you, a few inconsistencies I need to figure out.”

  “What inconsistencies?” I felt something tug at my stomach.

  “Nothing to worry about,” he replied. “I’m just curious about your abilities versus your magical strength. It’s just never happened before, not with a full Elemental, anyway. We’ll look into it later, not to worry.”

  “What are you talking about, Alton?” Jacintha asked.

  “Harley here has control of all four elements, plus Telekinesis and Empathy.” Alton beamed with pride, then frowned. “But the power inside her… it’s stifled. Reduced. She’s a Mediocre.”

  “How on earth did that happen?” Oswald exclaimed, surprised.

  Alton shrugged. “No idea whatsoever.”

  “What about her parents?” Marianne asked.

  “I don’t have a family. I was in the foster system my whole life. The closest thing I had to a family were the Smiths, my last foster parents. I’m an orphan.” I sighed. It wasn’t something I could ever say with ease. My throat closed up whenever the word “orphan” rolled off my tongue. It still hurt, even after all those years.

  A thought crossed my mind then—that I could maybe find a way to dig into the archives and find out who my parents were. I’d considered it before, but I never knew where to start, given that my parents’ names were unknown. At least now I had the confirmation that they were magical. Surely, the coven must’ve kept records. It was an extra reason to at least stick around for that month and find a way to access those archives. Alton had said that I had limited access to this place, so I either had to convince him to help me, or find a way to sneak in.

  The only problem was that I didn’t even know where to start my search. All I had from my parents was the note, and even that didn’t yield any useful information, just the same words that kept blaring in the back of my head.