Page 23 of The Spell Caster

Oliver chewed his lip, hedging. “We haven’t exactly chosen them yet.”

My eyebrows rose. None of them? They would have graduated at the same time I did, months ago, but they hadn’t formed teams yet?

“Well,” said Sativa, cutting me off before I could ask about it. “Give it a shot, newbie.”

I sighed. “Don’t expect too much. I’ve already tried a hundred times.”

Closing my eyes against the stuffy, noisy room, I ran through the mental sequence to invoke my familiar. It was an ancient rite, different from casting spells or working circles. I felt the source of the magic inside me surge as I called forth my bonded familiar—but when I opened my eyes, I was still alone.

I swallowed around a tight throat, forcing my chin up. I wouldn’t cry in front of these witches.

Oliver and Datura were frowning, Sativa was pensive, looking around me as if maybe the familiar was hiding in my hair.

“Did you do it?” Sativa asked.

“Did you do it right?” Datura added.

“Do it again,” said Oliver.

I tried again, and again, while they watched.

“This is so messed-up,” said Sativa.

Datura shrugged. “I told you she was a screwup like us.”

“D, seriously. Try pulling some magic in when you do it,” Oliver suggested. “Maybe you need extra oomph?”

I pulled in a little, not wanting to make myself sick since I had no way of pushing it back out. Except for whatever happened during the attack, and I wasn’t about to pull in that much magic—I would seriously hurt myself.

The pressure of the magic hurt my head as I tried and failed a fourth time. Tears of frustration pricked my eyes.

“Layla.” Costi rolled in like a storm in full uniform, a tall spell caster trailing behind him. He took in my face and then snapped his narrowed eyes to my companions as if they had done something to me.

“I’m fine,” I murmured automatically, squinting against the skylights that were now irritatingly bright, creating a halo around everything. I had pulled more magic than I realized. A little had always been tricky for me.

“Hey, Calamus,” Sativa said to the spell caster. “Is this your new guardian?”

My already queasy stomach lurched. I met Costi’s gaze. It shouldn’t be shocking—we needed functional teams, now more than ever.

But I was supposed to be his spell caster.

“Hello, Sativa. Hello, Mountain Thunder,” my replacement, Calamus, said with a polite smile, turning a curious eye on me. He looked to be around my age and classically handsome, with an athletic build and bright blue eyes. His glossy black hair was neatly trimmed around his ears. He was wearing formal crimson spell caster robes, finely tailored and immaculate. My mother would love him.

“This is Constantine Blackthorn,” Calamus introduced Costi to the coven, who suddenly seemed to be on their best behavior as they greeted him.

“I can see why Blackthorn wanted to come over so urgently,” he continued with a smile directed at me. “You’re Layla, right?”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said without thought. My head began to throb.

“I’ve been hoping I’d run into you. You’re the talk of the Circle,” Calamus said as he took my hand in his and shook it. “The spell caster who defeated a whole squadron of angels.”

“That was you?” Oliver hopped back and forth. “The super spell? But how—”

Ignoring my covenmate, Costi cut a dark look at Calamus as I extracted my hand and murmured an incoherent thanks for the compliment. “Why is she all pale?” he snapped at Sativa. Her familiar—Inky—hissed at him, showing its rows of sharp teeth.

“I didn’t do anything to her,” Sativa protested, widening her eyes and then looking to Inky in alarm.

“That’s interesting,” Calamus said, frowning at Inky. “I’ve never seen a familiar do that before.”

---