Harley Merlin and the Secret Coven Read online

  “Can you just tell me where we’re going?” I snapped.

  On the other side of the “road,” there was a metallic board on which magnet letters had been mounted. Two kids were shuffling them around, and my attention was temporarily drawn to the letters’ bright colors, before I realized what they spelled: ordo ab chao. The kids both looked at me, two smiling boys, while I rummaged through my scarce knowledge of Latin. Unlike many, I had the chance to study some during high school.

  “From chaos comes order,” I muttered. Yup, add that to the list of weird.

  I didn’t get a chance to ask Wade about the letters, as a four-year-old girl clamped on to my leg, giggling and refusing to let go.

  “Play with me! Play with me!” she said, her curly brown hair framing her cute, round face.

  For some reason, this little girl actually liked me. I gave her a smile, then shook my head, while Wade watched the exchange with glimmering amusement.

  “I can’t, sweetie. This guy here wants me to go with him,” I replied gently.

  She looked up at Wade, then frowned.

  “Do you know him?” she asked, pouting.

  “Not really, no,” I said.

  “My mom says to never talk to strangers. Not even if they give you candy.”

  The shadow of a smile flickered over Wade’s face, and I shrugged in response.

  “He didn’t give me any candy.” I sighed.

  The little girl scowled at Wade, then got up and released my leg so she could ball her hands into little fists and rest them on her hips in a reprimanding posture. “You should give her candy!”

  “I will, I promise.” Wade nodded, trying hard to keep a straight face.

  “Oh, wow. Call me crazy, but you two would look great in an AMBER alert, Wade,” I said.

  Wade shook his head slowly, clearly displeased with my comment, then walked toward the emergency exit door to our left. I followed him through, and we reached a small corridor with a secondary staircase. There was another door right ahead, and Wade stopped in front of it.

  “I’m going to overlook the fact that you just basically called me a child abductor right now, and welcome you to the San Diego Coven,” he said, his tone flat as he placed his palms on the door at shoulder height.

  “We’re in Kid City, Wade. Did you forget to take your medication this morning, by any chance?” I retorted, still not sure what we were doing. At least there were several more feet between me and the kids now, and my nerve center was no longer controlled by the emotions of four-year-olds.

  “Aperi Portam,” Wade said quietly, and the ten rings on his fingers lit up red.

  He pushed the door open, on which there was a janitor sign, then walked through. There was nothing but darkness ahead. Things were getting weirder with each second that passed, but it was too late to turn back. I figured I could always kick him in the nuts if he tried something funny.

  I walked in after him and quickly came to a halt, as I realized that everything around me had suddenly changed. The janitor door closed behind us with a loud clang, and I stood in awe, smack in the middle of a massive hallway. It stretched far and wide, with dozens of large, black wooden doors on both sides. The ceiling was high, beautifully composed with interconnected arches, neo-Gothic relief sculptures, and gilded details, in eye-popping contrast to the creamy marble walls and dark blue floor. It was an architectural masterpiece all by itself, and I could only imagine what the other rooms looked like.

  One thing didn’t make sense, though.

  “Wade, what’s happening here?” I murmured, gawking at the dragon-like sculptures holding up the arches. “I’ve been all over this place, repeatedly, and this… this wasn’t here. It’s not supposed to be here.”

  “It isn’t,” Wade replied, turning to face me. “This, technically speaking, doesn’t exist in the real world. Welcome to the San Diego Coven, Harley Smith.”

  “This doesn’t exist, yet I’m standing right in the middle of it.”

  “Call it an interdimensional pocket,” he said with a shrug. “We couldn’t exactly build our coven where the humans could see it or easily access it, so we devised these… bubbles that exist between dimensions.”

  He motioned for me to follow him, pointing at the end of the hallway.

  “A world within our world,” I breathed, trying to take it all in.

  Fortunately, I’d been dealing with my otherworldly abilities since I was seven. I’d gone well past the stage at which something like this could shock me to the point where I’d crumble and lose my mind, simply rejecting this new reality. Nevertheless, it still wasn’t easy to digest.

  One too many questions fluttered through my head, but I held my tongue, knowing that I’d get my answers soon. Hopefully, I’d get them one at a time.

  “You’re probably wondering how this all works,” Wade said. “Space is not linear, nor is it finite. It can be bent to fit our needs, if we know how to do it. Most importantly, achieving such feats requires tremendous amounts of energy. Everything you see around you, in fact, is energy solidified into matter.”

  I walked over to the wall and touched it. Its surface felt smooth and cold, and my skin vibrated gently in response. I pushed a finger forward, but the marble didn’t budge. It was solid, indeed.

  “This is incredible,” I murmured. “So, you’re telling me that this space here… it can’t be seen at all from the outside. And no one can come in.”

  “Only those of us able to use magic. The coven is rigged to record and allow certain individuals in—those who belong here, those who belong to other covens, and those we approve to come in,” Wade explained, then motioned for me to follow him. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

  I nodded slowly, my mouth open, and reached his side. We walked forward, watching as doors opened and people moved around—all of them young and dressed like… normal people. They all stared at me for a while, before going back to whatever business they had behind various doors.

  “How does the coven recognize who’s who?” I asked.

  “Magic.” Wade smirked. “There are spells in place.”

  “Okay, you’ll have to be a little bit more specific than that.”

  “You’ll find out more soon enough, don’t worry. For now, just think of this structure as a massive, self-sustained organism that has a conscience and a memory. It knows who we are, what we do, and when we do it. It remembers our steps with photographic precision, and it can be set to deny access to those lacking the appropriate clearance.”

  We reached the end of the hallway, which split into two equally large corridors that went in opposite directions. On the wall in front of us, a giant plaque was mounted. It was made from stainless steel, and I could see myself and Wade reflected on its shiny surface. The words I’d seen earlier on the kids’ magnet board were clearly engraved at the top in elegant, swirly letters. Ordo Ab Chao. Below it, a block of text followed, also in Latin.

  “What’s that?” I asked, trying to read and failing to understand about 90 percent of it. Other than the words “mystic,” “courage,” and “virtue,” nothing seemed familiar.

  “A pledge of allegiance,” Wade replied. “It’s the oath we take when we join the coven. A promise that transcends time and space. Words of great importance that we can never go back on. You’ll learn it as well.”

  “Whoa there, buddy! I’m here to say hi, not join your weird cult. Though, I’ll have to admit, it looks cool and all,” I said.

  I followed Wade down the corridor to our right, constantly looking around, admiring the dragonesque sculptures and sharp arches stretching overhead, the brass chandeliers and chiaroscuro paintings. These things were probably worth a fortune, but the aesthetic was pretty weird. The artwork was more classical, while the arches and architectural details were neo-Gothic, and the walls and floors were simple, downright minimalistic.

  My two years with the Smiths had given me access to a private school education, and it was there that I finished high sch
ool. My teachers tended to look down on me, given my rough-around-the-edges attitude, but they had no other choice but to teach me the same as the ritzy kids in class—subjects that included art, architecture, and design. I was surprised to see I’d remembered some of it as I analyzed my surroundings.

  It all looked beautiful, but eerily different. It felt that way, too. For lack of a better word, I decided to stick to “otherworldly” when describing the overall look of the San Diego Coven. People passed by us, most of them nodding at Wade. The ladies, in particular, seemed thrilled to see him.

  “They’re all, uh, witches?” I asked, making eye contact with some of them. The vibe they gave me was a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. I was a stranger on their turf, after all, so that didn’t come as a surprise.

  “Witches, warlocks, yes,” Wade replied, then turned left into a stunning dining hall.

  It was enormous, with three long rows of white marble tables in the middle, covered with white porcelain and sterling silver tableware. Globe-shaped light pendants hung from the ridiculously high ceiling, and another table was set at the far end, perpendicular to the others.

  “This is the banquet hall,” Wade said. “It’s where we all eat. Designated staff handle preparation and service, of course. Some of our younger witches and warlocks are given part-time jobs here. Not that they need to pay to live here, but the human world can be expensive to navigate.”

  “You mean you people live here, too?”

  “Most of us, yes. Rarely does the coven allow its people to rent their own places in the city. It’s safer and easier to live here. It’s not like we lack the space,” he replied.

  “What does the coven do, exactly?”

  “A lot of things,” Wade said, smirking. Then he walked back out into the corridor, with me not far behind. “Magic is the result of powerful energy manifested through physical bodies. We are born magical, and never made. The energy itself is Chaos, the founding force of the universe itself, the power that fuels the world. However, from Chaos comes Order. It’s what we live by. There must be rules in place. We’re heavily outnumbered by humans, and we are peaceful by nature. You’re probably well aware of the fact that humans tend to destroy what they don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I’ve seen the movies,” I said.

  “You must’ve been called a freak more than a couple of times, too. Right?”

  Flashbacks to the first couple of times that my powers manifested knocked me over the head. “Among other terms, yes.”

  I’d been called a monster, too. A weirdo. An abomination. I could go on, but there was no point in dwelling on the past. I’d survived it.

  “Well, the covens are here to protect those of us through whom Chaos flows freely. Those of us capable of magic,” Wade replied. “In return, we adhere to the laws, we enforce them, and we do our best to make a positive impact on the world. Humans aren’t doing a very good job of taking care of this planet or themselves, which is where we come in—in moderation, of course. We’re not superheroes, nor do we have a duty to serve them. Our main purpose is to keep them out of magical harm’s way. There are things out there… creatures other than witches and warlocks, and phenomena that humans would never be able to understand. We keep them out of sight. We neutralize them, if needed.”

  Much like he did with the gargoyle the other night, I thought, nodding slowly.

  We reached another hall, this one three times as big as the dining room. Its walls were smooth and black, and there was a plethora of obstacles and training dummies, targets and barriers. This was a training area and, judging by the burn, frost, and tear marks on the wooden puppets, this was where the witches and warlocks basically let loose.

  A variety of medieval shields and weapons were mounted on the walls—swords in silver-plated scabbards with gemstones embedded into the hilts, bows and arrows of different sizes, lances and spears, hammers and hatchets, knives and daggers, and several clubs. This was a place for warriors. I was more of a Mustang and leather jacket kind of girl…

  There were about twelve witches and warlocks training, holding their hands out as they launched fireballs at wall-mounted targets. An instructor in a black, military-style uniform walked behind them, barking orders and criticizing their stances.

  “Spread those legs out, Rodriguez! If you’re a good shot, you won’t have to worry about someone getting close enough to kick you in the balls!”

  “Wow,” I breathed, feeling sorry for the Rodriguez boy, whose embarrassment was flushing my cheeks already.

  “This is where we train, as you can see. That’s O’Halloran, one of our instructors. You’ll like him, I think. He’s just as abrasive as you are,” Wade said.

  “If I’m abrasive, then that makes you what, exactly? Sulfuric acid?”

  “You know, that smart mouth of yours won’t get you anywhere good in this place,” Wade retorted, then stepped in front of me. I moved back, but he followed, maintaining a distance of a few inches. His face was too close to mine, his irritation setting me on fire—or was it just his presence that had that effect on me? I wasn’t sure, but his card trick still creeped me out six ways from Sunday, and his arrogance made me want to punch him. The farther I got away from him, the better.

  “Crowley!” O’Halloran shouted, prompting Wade to look over his shoulder. “Is that the new girl?”

  “Yeah,” Wade replied.

  “New girl? No. I’m just visiting!” I said, raising my voice to make sure O’Halloran heard me.

  When he didn’t respond to my statement, I tilted my whole upper body to the right, so I could see past Wade’s broad chest. O’Halloran was tall and massive, the typical soldier type, his features rough, his chin square, and his bluish eyes narrowed at me. Something about him made my blood chill—probably the fact that no emotions came through from him.

  He was either a master of self-control, or an android. My money was on the mechanical parts.

  “Bring her in later. I want to see what she can do,” O’Halloran replied, completely ignoring me.

  Wade looked at me, then exhaled sharply. He was genuinely frustrated, though I couldn’t tell why, exactly. I felt what he felt, but the why part belonged to his thoughts, which I didn’t have access to. Ironically, I’d spent half my life wishing I didn’t have these abilities. However, as I walked out after Wade, I was wishing I had more power, enough to be able to read his mind, and maybe even disappear.

  My conscience and my instincts were already at odds. Part of me was excited about this place. It felt good. It had a hint of home that I couldn’t ignore. But my father’s words kept blaring in my head. Stay safe. Stay smart.

  “Let me show you the living quarters,” Wade said, as we advanced through the corridor.

  A set of double doors covered in elegant mahogany relief sculptures awaited at the far end. He touched the brass door knobs and muttered something under his breath. It sounded like Latin, but I didn’t pay enough attention as I stared to my right, where an archway led into what looked like a courtyard, lush with trees and flowers. A small, round stone fountain stood in the middle, water trickling from an angel’s mouth into a fan of seashells.

  The term “otherworldly” came back to mind, and I felt as though I’d left the material plane, sincerely fascinated by the courtyard’s peacefulness.

  “Come on,” Wade said, snapping me back to reality.

  The living quarters were incredible. I had the feeling of being inside a luxury hotel, with three levels of rooms lining the circular arena and dozens of staircases connecting each floor. Potted magnolia trees stood in the middle, surrounded by black, forged iron benches with wooden backs. Witches and warlocks buzzed around, while several men dressed in black uniforms guarded the ground floor.

  “You guys have security here?” I asked, noticing the uniforms’ resemblance to what I’d seen on O’Halloran.

  “Not always,” Wade replied. “There’s been a string of, uh, peculiar incidents, and the coven decided t
o add some extra detail to the more vulnerable areas, just in case.”

  “Define ‘peculiar.’”

  “Out of the ordinary.”

  “Now you’re just pulling my leg,” I said. “Why is this area vulnerable, then?”

  “We live here. These are our homes. We sleep here. If anyone were to ever try and attack the coven, this is where they would come first,” Wade replied. “We’re relaxed here. We put our feet up; we close our eyes.”

  I nodded slowly. It made sense. If I were a bloodthirsty warlord, I’d definitely go for the tents first—at night, when the soldiers slept. The thought of that level of vulnerability made me uneasy. To be honest, if I were to follow my instincts to the letter, I would’ve ended up in a hole in the ground somewhere, sleeping with my eyes open and a string connecting my toe to a booby trap outside, in case of intruders. I did appreciate the risk in living, sometimes. But the coven was different. There was an antithesis between a feeling of home and a hint of danger, and I couldn’t really put my finger on the latter.

  Across the circular hall were floor-to-ceiling windows, three giants made of thick glass and framed in gilded wood. I held my breath as I walked over and realized that I was looking out into the real world. Right before me was Balboa Park, sprawling with its short grass and anemic trees, crude green buds popping all over the branches. The sky above was bright and blue, and people were out there, walking their dogs, watching their kids play, and taking selfies by the fountain—all of them completely unaware that we existed. That we were watching them.

  “It’s time for you to meet the director,” Wade said, startling me as he once again stood too close, his breath tickling my ear.

  “The… who… what now?” I spun around with a stutter.

  He made me nervous. I couldn’t tell why, exactly, but there was something about Wade, that electric feeling I’d felt before. It was rippling through me, and my brain wasn’t sure what it meant. I’d done my best to keep my distance from people, in general, with only a handful of exceptions. My social skills weren’t the greatest, and neither were my reactions to new people stepping into my personal space. Whenever Wade got too close, a shot of adrenaline coursed through me.