Harley Merlin and the Secret Coven Read online

  Judging by the look on Sloane’s face, she wasn’t all that happy, probably because she didn’t like people, in general. My kindred spirit. Wade sensed my gradual relaxation and let go of my arm. I was thankful that the crowd’s emotions came in waves—or maybe my body had some kind of defense mechanism, automatically shutting them out, just to give me a few minutes’ worth of breathing room. I wasn’t sure how to control my Empath skills within big crowds just yet. Sweat trickled down my temples and neck as I inhaled deeply and regained my composure.

  “If you’re a good girl, I might even recommend you for the investigative team,” Wade muttered, and I noticed a smirk stretching his lips. “Given your newbie status, Alton will want you on the cleanup team, to start you off easy. But that’s lower-level stuff, for Mediocres and below.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I am a Mediocre.”

  “And you’re just going to be okay with that?” he asked.

  He had a point. Being labeled a Mediocre didn’t mean I couldn’t try to do better.

  “So, what, does that mean you get the lead in the investigative team, and I’m supposed to be nice to you if I want to get in, too?” I replied.

  “That’s the way the cookie crumbles, Harley,” Wade said. “I’m the best at what I do. Of course I’ll lead.”

  “Garrett Kyteler, I’ll give you a shot at leading the investigative team,” Alton said. I glanced behind me and saw Garrett beaming with satisfaction, then giving Wade one of the most arrogant smirks I’d ever witnessed. Cute, but damn, gives me the urge to punch him. “It’s time you make something of yourself in this place.”

  “Wait, what?” Wade blurted, his eyes wide as the shock settled on his face. “How… Why him? He’s an arrogant idiot with no respect for authority and something bad to say about absolutely everything and everyone!”

  “And does your offensive description of a fellow magical make you worthier of the position?” Alton replied, pursing his lips. “Besides, Garrett is an exceptional warlock, with great intuition and a set of skills that will most certainly come in handy in this endeavor. And it’s time for him to shine. I believe he’s already paid his dues for his bad mouth in previous covens, despite his earlier slip-ups. He deserves a chance.”

  Wade blinked several times, struggling to find the right words to express his outrage. I could barely stifle a chuckle at the sight of his dismay. “It’s not fair! I’m far more equipped, and I’m an actual professional, unlike him! I don’t care what his skills are. He’s done nothing but piss you off since he first set foot in this coven!”

  “And right now, you’re the one pissing me off,” Alton retorted. “I’m putting you in charge of cleanup, then.”

  Wade gasped, his mouth wide open. He would probably have an aneurysm if someone handed him a broom in that moment. I instinctively looked around for one, just to mess with him, until I realized that my chances of getting onto the investigative team had dropped below zero, without Wade’s recommendation.

  But do I really want that? Do I even want to be involved?

  I kind of did. There was nothing good about monsters being let loose in the city. It put Ryann and her parents at risk, not to mention Father Thomas, from the orphanage, and Malcolm, and another handful of people I didn’t completely dislike. Innocent lives were at risk, and, for the first time, I felt like I could actually do something about that.

  “Hah, Crowley’s got the Rag Team.” Garrett chuckled, then walked toward the podium, the crowd parting before him. He passed by us, and gave me a brief sideways glance and a wink—what was that about? It looked flirtatious, but I wasn’t getting any emotions from him. I now counted five people I couldn’t read: Garrett, O’Halloran, Bellmore, the platinum-haired guy, and Imogene Whitehall. As I scanned the crowd, I noticed there were others whom I couldn’t feel. Not many, but still, enough to confirm that my Empathy didn’t work with absolutely everyone. I saved the question of why for later.

  “What can I say, Crowley? I really am very good at what I do, and, as much as it probably kills you to admit it, you know it, too, deep down. Despite my premature departure from my previous covens, I was the top scorer there,” Garrett added, mocking Wade. “You should stick to what you’re good at. You know, lighting up candles and being the rule-abiding goodie two-shoes nobody likes. It suits you better.”

  Based on the confidence exuding from his tone, and the frustration boiling through Wade, Garrett was telling the truth. His verbal stings were just a façade for his grand warlock skills. Several warlocks and witches chuckled, including the platinum-haired guy, whose eyes glimmered with blue, hateful fires. He definitely didn’t like Wade. The brief glance he gave me announced that he wasn’t too fond of me, either.

  “I suggest you tone it down, Kyteler,” Alton interjected, prompting Garrett to abandon that smug grin. “I’m giving you a chance here. Don’t blow it. Focus on your talents, not your personal dislike of certain highly skilled magicals in this coven. Now, get your team in place. I trust you’ll pick capable people to work with.”

  “Oh, yeah, absolutely. My apologies, Director Waterhouse.” Garrett nodded, then pointed at the platinum-haired guy. “Finch Anker, you’re with me.”

  I had a name for the guy, at last. He was pleased with the nomination, smiling as he advanced through the crowd and joined Garrett, Alton, and Tobe on the podium. Garrett then pointed at five more magicals behind us, inviting them onto his team. “Rowena Sparks, Lincoln Mont-Noir, Poe Dexter, Ruby Presley, and Niklas Jones. Time to show whoever’s messing with our Bestiary what we’re made of,” Garrett announced.

  “I do appreciate the enthusiasm, but you’re investigating the Bestiary, not leading an assault on the ancient Kingdom of Troy,” Alton said, smiling. “However, you’ve done well with your choice of teammates. Thank you for not making me already regret this decision.” He chuckled, then switched back to his more serious self. “You’ll now be liaising with Nomura and Tobe on the next steps, and you’ll be reporting to me on a daily basis. Are we clear?”

  They all nodded while doing secret high fives. They were all young, in their twenties, with a shared taste for smart jackets and starchy cream pants—like snotty Ivy League undergrads with magical abilities. Briefly reminded of the obnoxious characters I’d dealt with back in prep school, I shifted my focus back to Wade, who was watching the whole scene unfold like a horror movie. He seemed seconds away from a heartfelt bellow of pure rage. A feeling of helplessness poisoned me—it was Wade’s, as he watched what I assumed to be a coveted position get occupied by someone whom he considered unworthy.

  It’ll be a constant battle of the egos in this place.

  “As for the cleanup team—”

  “You mean the Rag Team,” Garrett interrupted Alton, who rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. Garrett’s lips were forcibly pressed into a thin line, his eyes nearly popping out from shock. He tried to open his mouth, but couldn’t. Alton had magically shut him up.

  “As for the cleanup team, Wade, come up here and choose the people you want to work with,” Alton continued, undisturbed, while Garrett boiled at his side.

  Wade let out a sigh, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. Alton quickly spotted my reaction and raised an eyebrow in response, as Wade joined him on the podium with a defeated look on his face.

  “Congratulations, Wade, I just found you your first team member,” Alton announced, patting Wade on the shoulder. “Harley Smith, come up here. It’s time to start your practical induction.”

  Ah, crap.

  All eyes were on me, a flurry of emotions pummeling me again. After a couple of deep breaths, I slowly made my way up onto the podium, focusing on counting my steps, in a desperate attempt not to let myself be overrun by the feelings of two hundred magicals. Amusement flickered in most of them, as I was another example of how karma worked—you only get as good as you give. I shouldn’t have taken such amusement in Wade’s misery.

  “Deep breaths,” Wade whispered, then searched the crow
d for certain faces.

  Even after I’d laughed at him, he was still nice enough to try and comfort me, knowing how overwhelmed I was in that moment, as an Empath. I was confused. Wade seemed to have achieved the perfect balance between being a smug jerk and a kind, supportive friend. So confused right now.

  “Santana Catemaco,” Wade said, nodding at the girl with curly black hair and chocolate-brown eyes I’d seen earlier in the living quarters. He briefly explained his choice to me, while the crowd murmured, and Santana made her way to the podium. “Santana is a Santeria practitioner. She’s quite antisocial because of how most magicals view the Santeria culture, but she’s fierce and rather easy to work with.”

  “You find her easy to work with,” Alton said under his breath. “Personally, I’m glad you chose her. It’ll keep her busy enough to not bicker with the other magicals.”

  “Wait, Santeria… Like dead chickens and blood and all that creepy stuff?” I asked, trying to dig through the memories of what I’d read on the subject during my long hours of Internet research.

  “That’s not what Santeria is about,” Santana replied as she joined us on the podium. “You’re too green and gullible to understand the intricacies of Santeria. These magicals love using the humans’ fictional lore to taunt me, but you’ll soon learn what it’s all about. They laugh now, but they all grovel when they realize they need my help to free people from brujeria curses.”

  I caught her subtle Mexican accent, along with a subtle sense of irritation. She was frequently misjudged and sort of used to it, from what I could tell, but it didn’t mean she liked it.

  “It’s true,” Wade murmured. “She’s one of the few Santeria practitioners in California, and most of them are—”

  “Bad hombres.” Santana smirked, taking her place next to Wade and me, then gave me a subtle nudge. “Don’t worry, newbie. It might not look like it now, but you’re better off on the Rag Team than with those mouth-breathers,” she said, nodding at Garrett and his team, who were sneering at us. I was tempted to agree with her.

  “Tatyana Vasilisa!” Wade called out, squinting at the crowd as he looked for her. Soon enough, a tall and slender figure with long, pale blonde hair and icy blue eyes emerged, walking toward the podium. She was gorgeous, with all the cover-girl features, including the perfectly glossed lips and impeccable sense of fashion. Based on the style of her jeans and iridescent silk shirt, she was into the high-end brands.

  “Her parents run the Moscow Coven together,” Santana explained, slightly amused. “Don’t let her fabulous looks scare you. She’s a misfit like the rest of us. Terrible people skills, loves drilling holes into Alton’s patience. She’s new here, too, by the way.”

  “And you?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off Tatyana as she glided onto the podium with a slightly dissatisfied expression.

  “Six months.” Santana shrugged. “I bet Wade will use newbies for the Rag Team. We need to be given some magical stuff to do anyway, and the other departments aren’t all that keen to work with us.”

  “Why not?” I replied, trying to understand what stigmas hung over their heads.

  “Because we’re very adept at telling people the uncomfortable truth, including what we think about them.” Tatyana joined the conversation, her Slavic accent making her stand out even more. “Californians are too politically correct for my taste, but I think we’ll break them in by the end of the decade. Especially the ones who are so insecure and frustrated that they pick on witches they simply can’t handle.”

  Both Tatyana and Santana chuckled as they glanced at Garrett and his team, who didn’t look happy to see what the Rag Team was becoming. I couldn’t feel Garrett or Finch, but the others were definitely uncomfortable. There was history between these seemingly opposite sides, but neither came across as part of a classic “good versus bad” formula, but rather “unsociable misfits versus smug, preppy jerks.”

  “Dylan Blight.” Wade continued with his selections. “Get over here. You’re new, too. You need some practice.”

  Dylan didn’t look like he belonged there. He seemed like the typical all-American heartthrob, with plenty of muscles beneath his red-and-cream varsity football jacket, short brown hair, caramel eyes, and a cleft chin that further made the overall image of him scream “mundane.” He belonged on a football field, not in a coven—or, at least, that was my first impression.

  “He’s been here a couple of months, like Tatyana,” Santana told me, as we watched him make his way through the crowd to join us. “Comes across as a good guy. Too good, if you ask me. Garrett keeps trying to get him on his side, but the boy prefers football and his human friends. He’ll take some time to assimilate.”

  Ah, another kindred spirit! At least I wasn’t the only one trying to ease into this whole magical business.

  Dylan gave us a broad smile, then stood next to Tatyana, whom he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off, until she gave him a brief glance and he instantly looked away—he liked her. She made him nervous, I could feel it. Other than that, there was just a consistent conflict brewing inside him, something I’d experienced myself when trying to reconcile my abilities with the human world I’d been raised into.

  “Raffe Levi! Get up here, brother!” Wade called out.

  A tall, wiry dude with olive skin, short black hair, and the most peculiar dark, gray-blue eyes stepped forward. His last name sounded familiar, and his features echoed someone I’d seen before, too. “He looks familiar,” I said.

  “He’s Leonidas Levi’s son,” Wade replied.

  “Oh.” Who could forget the overly pompous and mean Leonidas, the “deciding vote” in the California Mage Council?

  “He’s nothing like his father,” Wade said, as if reading my mind. “He’s different.”

  Raffe smiled and shook his hand, and I realized that Wade was absolutely right. Raffe was different, in more than one way. On the outside, he seemed peaceful, calm, and sweet. On the inside, however, I could feel the eye of a dark storm, a hundred varieties of rage and malice whirling through him, all of which he kept to himself, desperate not to affect anyone.

  He didn’t come across as… evil, but there was something unsettling beneath that kind expression. Even more interesting was the look on his face, particularly when our eyes met for the first time. He stared at me, and he knew. I could feel that he knew exactly what I was. He was aware that I could feel him.

  “The Rag Team is better than no magical work at all. Thanks, Wade,” Raffe said.

  “Any time, man,” Wade replied, patting him on the shoulder, visibly thrilled to have Raffe on board. I could feel the bond between them, too. They were close friends, a fact also confirmed by Santana.

  “Raffe has a troubled history with his father,” she explained, keeping her voice low. “He was sent here about three years ago as a form of punishment, but it doesn’t look like the Levi clan will take him back anytime soon. Which is cool. We like him better here, surrounded by people who actually care about him.”

  There was something in the way she spoke that left room for follow-up questions, but I saved them for later, as Wade called out to one more team member. “Astrid Hepler!”

  “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Santana chuckled.

  A young African-American girl came forward. Her brown eyes had specks of emerald green, and her hair was a medium curly Afro. She pushed her black-rimmed glasses up the blade of her nose with one finger, then stepped up on the podium, giving Wade a brief nod before she moved to our side.

  “Hi, I’m Astrid.” She beamed at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back. She was full of light and warmth, just like Ryann, and I was relieved to be able to focus on her emotions, instead of the crowd before us. It dawned on me then that, as long as I had someone as an anchor, I could focus enough to get by without losing my mind between so many people in one room.

  “Harley. Nice to meet you,” I replied, and we shook hands.

  “Astrid here is human,” Santana said with a w
ink.

  “I thought we’re supposed to keep our magic away from them,” I said, confused.

  “Astrid is special,” Santana replied. “She’s been with the coven for a while, helping on the IT side, mostly. She also serves as a bridge between us and the human authorities.”

  “I’m the perfect witness in cases of unexplained phenomena.” Astrid giggled.

  “Keep her out of trouble, Wade,” Alton said, a frown drawing a shadow between his eyebrows. “She had enough excitement during her last mission.”

  “We’re doing cleanup. That’ll be, what? Scrapping CCTV footage, wiping any memories that weren’t cleaned after the gargoyle incidents, and clearing out whatever slipped through the cracks since.” Wade shrugged. “It doesn’t get more uneventful than that.”

  “You’ll also be looking out for monster activity. I told you, keep an eye out for energy residue,” Alton said, crossing his arms. He was concerned about Astrid. I figured she’d helped the coven a lot, for them to let her work here when they were all so fearful of human discovery.

  “I’ll pack the scanners, then, no biggie!” Astrid quipped. “I’m just happy to get out in the field again.”

  “I’m not comfortable with that,” Alton grumbled. There was something endearing about him, reminding me of Mr. Smith after I got my driver’s license. He wasn’t comfortable with letting me drive on my own, either.

  Santana smirked. “Don’t worry, Alton, we’ll take good care of her.”

  “You’re a terrible influence, in general, but I do appreciate your survival skills,” Alton replied, jokingly. “Just bring her back alive.”

  Finch, Garrett, and the others on their team were standing next to him. They heard everything, while exchanging amused glances and the occasional mean joke.

  “Bunch of bleeding hearts,” Finch snapped at us. “No wonder you’re stuck on the Rag Team. And no wonder we’ve had low ratings compared to other covens. Less feelings, more magic. Let’s be professional about things, okay?”