Page 14 of My Blind Date is a Warlock

“Were the parties extra wild in 1965 or something?” He grabbed a bottle of water and washed down the hotdog. I’d warned him to steer clear of the moonshine until after the ritual, lest he cause havoc by using his powers while drunk.

“Don’t know. It’s just something Gran likes to say. You should get going; they’re about to start,” I told him, turning my back from the sight of the coven gathering around the guardian wisteria. I could already feel the air thickening with the cloying taste of magic, so potent that it was being shoved down my throat, scrubbing it raw and leaving me struggling to draw in breath.

“You’re not coming?” Jacob asked when he saw that I wasn’t following behind him.

“It’s not like she’d be of much use if she joined us. I am surprised and appalled that you actually dared to show your face here, Barnes,” Jerome’s smarmy voice hissed behind me. I didn’t even notice that he’d been standing nearby all this time. He and his friends had been so absorbed in their little clique all evening that I had started to relax and enjoy my not-date’s company. My mistake.

“Keep walking, Jerome,” I warned him, backing up into the picnic table when he came to stand in front of me, blocking my view of Jacob and the coven gathering around the tree. It should not have been possible, but everything in my peripheral view blurred and faded away and all I could see was the man in front of me. It had been six years since we graduated from Redwood and the jerk hadn’t changed much. It was such a shame that evil never wore an appearance that truly depreciated how ugly they were on the inside.

Jerome had the face of an angel and the heart of a devil. The cunning of one too. All these years, he had our coven fooled into thinking he had a shred of decency. I knew that he coveted the position of coven leader. I’d been quietly keeping an eye on that front. If ever Catherine Hawthorne decided to hand the mantle over to him, I doubted that I’d ever set foot in Mystic Cove again.

“My wife begged me not to say anything, and I was going to keep my opinions to myself out of respect for the Barnes Clan, but that’s never been my style. How dare you disrespect the goddess by showing your face at this holy site when you are unable to give your thanks and pay the tithe that is due to our most sacred Mother? We do not need fraudsters disturbing the peace. I remember you being a smart girl despite your many, many shortcomings. So why don’t you make the smart choice here and leave?”

“Hey, man, if anyone’s disturbing the peace here, it’s you. Apologize to Sophia and walk away before I turn you into a flea-bitten rodent,” Jacob growled, grabbing Jerome by the arm and pulling him back. He came to stand in front of me, glowering down at the shorter man.

“Jacob Buchanan. I’ve heard of you from shared acquaintances of ours and they’ve all spoken highly of you. Especially Headmaster Pritchard. He tells me that he hopes you’ll step into his shoes when he retires—”

“What does that have to do with disrespecting Sophia?”

“Which is why—” Jerome continued as if Jacob had not said a single word. “—I am shocked to see you sniffing around this failure of a witch like a lovesick dog in heat. A warlock of your stature, I thought you’d be more discerning in your taste and choice of mates. There are plenty more witches far more suited to you than this…this—” Whatever he was going to say ended in a choked yelp as he crumpled to the ground on his knees. Blood vessels popped in his bulging eyes and he clutched at his throat as he stared at Jacob with dawning terror.

“Jacob, you’re killing him!” I tugged at his arm, hoping to break his concentration so that he would stop mumbling the chant that was slowly suffocating Jerome. “Jacob!” I shook him even though a small part of me reveled in the panic and mortal fear painted all over Jerome’s face. The realization that he was not always the strongest warlock in the room. But I did not want a death on my conscience.

Someone blasted us with a raw wave of magic—Nicholas and Lucas. The power knocked me off my feet, but Jacob remained standing tall, a stalwart pillar of brute force in a chaotic wave of wild magic from the warlocks trying to defend their friend.

“Enough!” Catherine’s voice boomed throughout the clearing. The power she imbued to modulate her tone had me clenching my teeth and covering my ears, as did everyone else who was not at her level, which was almost everyone. Her voice was a clap of thunder, and then there was a ringing sound in my ears as I tried to focus on the commotion breaking out, but everything sounded muted. I saw Hailey rushing toward us, gesticulating wildly with her hands, her face a mask of fury directed at me and Jacob.

Something wet dripped down the sides of my face. I raised my hands to feel what it was and they came back strained red. I tried to make out what Hailey was yelling at me about. Jacob’s lips were moving too, and my family and a few others were descending on us with varying expressions coloring their ashen faces. But for the life of me I couldn’t focus on what anyone was saying or doing. A bout of nausea hit me out of nowhere and took my legs out from under me when I tried to stand up. I guess all those protective runes tattooed on my arm didn’t protect me as they should have. I was due to see my tattoo artist again so that she could recharge their protective magic.

“Soph! Are you okay?” Jacob helped me up before Mom or my sister could. His fingers grazed the thin trail of blood dripping from my ears and rubbed the red liquid between his fingers. His eyebrows were knitted in confusion, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. I understood his confusion. I was the only one whose eardrums had popped at the booming sound of our coven leader’s voice. Every witch and warlock in attendance had managed to protect themselves, their children, and their significant others for those who were mated to humans or shifters.

His hands hovered at the sides of my face, a soft blue glow emanating from the palms of his hands. Healing magic. It was limited in what it could do, but the injury was small enough that Jacob could heal it with a negligent use of power.

As the ringing and sharp burst of pain in my ear gradually decreased, I looked up at all the faces surrounding us. Mom, Piper, and Gran had their shoulders slumped in remorse and a sheen of tears over their eyes. They’d forgotten to extend their protective magic to cover me because, aside from the witchlings, little warlocks, and humans, everyone else should have been able to cover themselves.

Jerome and his wife had such loathing and revulsion in their eyes, I was sure they wanted to kill me at that moment. Ignoring them, I gave my family a shaky smile. “I’m fine, guys. Stop acting like I died. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed, see?” I motioned toward Jacob, my voice coming out a little louder than it needed to since I’d yet to regain my full hearing.

My reassurance did nothing to assuage the guilt I saw glimmering in the blue eyes that passed from one Barnes woman to the next. Piper gnawed on her lip, old memories haunting her—I could see the shadows in her eyes. She was thinking of all the times my lack of magic had slipped their minds and led to me getting hurt. Because in a household so attuned to using magic for practically everything, it had taken them all a long time to adjust to having to temper their power. Mom was married to a human, but after all those years living together, he’d learned how to look out for himself. He’d learned never to walk into a witch’s workshop unannounced lest he get hit by a spell that was not meant for him. He’d learned not to open certain books or drink anything around the house that he was unsure of lest he accidentally un-alive himself. I’d learned that too—but not fast enough to escape a multitude of near-death accidents.

“That should do it. I fixed the damage, but I am not sure when your hearing will get back to normal,” Jacob told me with exaggerated slowness, shaping every word carefully. He didn’t take his hands off me, cupping both sides of my face and caressing my cheeks. Without meaning to, I leaned into his warm, callous-roughened touch and fell into the crook of his neck. I wasn’t aware that I’d been shivering until he drew me in for a hug and the light shudders turned into teeth-chattering shudders. I think Jacob said something to me, but with the temporary hearing loss and the roar of blood past my ears, his words were lost to me.

I have no idea how long we remained locked in an embrace for all to see, but when I finally calmed down and we broke apart, I saw that Catherine and Jerome were standing away from the larger crowd. Surrounding them were his friends and my family, and it looked like they were engaged in a heated exchange. At least Jerome wasn’t pretending anymore and letting his true colors shine bright for all to see—that he was a classist bigot.

Jacob followed my gaze, clicking his tongue when he saw what arrested my attention. “I have a mind to go over there and finish what I started.”

Sinking my hand into the short strands of hair at the back of his head, I gave them a hard tug and forced him to look at me. “Don't go getting blood on your hands for my sake, Buchanan. I don’t need saving.” And because I could see that my words did nothing, that he was still aching to finish the fight Jerome started, I cradled his face in my hands and tilted mine up and rubbed my nose against his.

Caught off guard by my uncharacteristic show of affection, he left out a soft gasp. Garlic and onion scented breath from his earlier hotdog wafted across my nose. Normally I would have found that disgusting, but not with Jacob. The sky-high walls I’d been so determined to keep locked around my heart were starting to crack—thin, hairline fractures that could cause the entire structure to come crumbling down if the right amount of pressure was pressed on the right spot.

“I mean it, Jacob. I am no damsel in distress and I don’t need you to be my white knight.” I looked over his shoulder, taking pleasure in seeing Jerome’s face turn redder and redder with each passing second he squared off against Hawthorne and my grandmother. “I am not afraid of Jerome Clarke anymore,” I lied. Even though he’d just shown himself for the piece of trash that he was, there was nothing to stop him from coming after me.

“I am not looking to be a white knight, but you can’t expect me to just sit back and watch while some douchebag goes off on you for absolutely no reason.”

“Oh, he has his reasons all right. Stupid and totally unjustified reasons for despising the very sight of me—but reasons nonetheless,” I sneered. I could tell that Jacob wanted to ask me more about Jerome and our blatant dislike for each other, but did I dare trust him with the truth? I was at a crossroads. On one hand, his reaction to my being a witch with no magic would give me a clear and unfiltered glimpse into the kind of man he was. Whether or not he was a purist like the majority of warlocks who passed through the halls of Redwood Academy. After all, Pritchard was looking at him to take his role as headmaster, according to Jerome. On the other hand, I was scared to see the banked flames of interest in his eyes when he found out that I was a dud. From the little he’d said about his family, it sounded like they were old-school traditionalists. It was only reasonable to assume that he picked up some of those values, no matter how outdated many of them were.

But then again, there was that old adage about making assumptions. Heart in my throat, I grabbed his hand and led him away from the coven circle. Neither of us would be missed, and I had no desire to remain in the same place as Jerome and his posse.

“What about the solstice ritual?” Jacob looked back to the clearing over his shoulder but allowed me to drag him into the woods. The sun would be completely gone in the next thirty minutes or so. The coven needed to get started before they lost daylight. But that was their problem right now, not mine.

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