Page 154 of Castings & Curses

“Toss the ball of air.”

“I don’t want to damage anything.” As he focused on the growing, opaque ball on his palm, an ache formed behind his eyes and they fogged over. He stopped concentrating and the weird sensations retreated.

“Don’t worry, dear.” She scrubbed her hands together. “As time goes by, I’ll feed you more power to bolster your abilities, including my fire magic. Let’s go slow. Think and say the word ‘fly.’”

Spinning on his heel, he turned to an empty corner of the room and commanded, “Fly!”

The air ball soared off his hand to the far side of the room and blasted an empty ceramic vase off a black coffee table. The vase crashed to the floor in a million shards of silver ceramic and pinged the floor and walls.

Zelda clapped. “Oh, dear goddess. You’re amazing.”

“Sorry.” Rafael moved across the room, his stride slow. He swished his foot over the floor, sweeping the shards into a pile.

“Leave it for my cleaning staff.” Heading toward the front door, she motioned him to follow. “We must return to the festival.”

Two warlocks joined them, and they loaded up in Zelda’s gray SUV.

Everything inside Rafael turned airy. The small amount of witch-air he’d blasted didn’t make a dent in the magic prodding the gates of his insides.

Zelda faced him in the back seat. “Do you see your potential now?”

The elation in his heart felt like a caged bird, desperate to be released. “Yes. Thank you, Zelda.”

She leaned closer, propping her hand on his knee, and she forced his head closer to her. She kissed him, her lips imparting no warmth, only a cold desolation. Repulsed, he didn’t respond to the kiss, battling the motherly vibe toting a major ick factor.

Instead, all his desire focused on the beast she’d awakened inside him. When would his entire body awaken? When would those insidious memories banging the crypts of his mind pop through the doors? Would the heat of the bracelet stop burning his wrist and kill that intoxicating odor he’d smelled in the small room and now on the beads?

CHAPTER11

Sage delayedthe lottery until various witches excited for the show badgered her to begin. Some were raring to hit the road after three days of meetings, ceremonies, and parties.

How’d a night and morning of absolute bliss morph into a hot poker stabbing her middle? Her intuition never kicked her in the butt. Despair caused the connection she’d shared with Rafael to splinter every moment he didn’t appear. A bereft and decimated ice formed around her, despite the heat of her witch-fire.

After sweeping the room one last time, she caught Ricky’s eye. He lifted his hands, let them fall. One last fruitless check on her cell phone and she tapped two fingers on the microphone. The sound thumped to the open beam ceiling and quieted the excited tittering. The last standing witches took their seats. She needed this stupid-ass lottery over. She had chosen no other warlock, and she no longer had a stake.

“Greetings.” She bestowed a smile she didn’t feel on the unbonded warlocks standing to her left. Although the warlocks preened for attention, a nervousness rode the air. A new, exciting, and sometimes perilous life lay ahead of them.

Sage addressed the young men. “May the goddess bless you all with enlightenment in the choices you make. This role will change your life. It’s a great honor for a High Priestess to choose you to join her coven. You’ll enjoy a long life with magic, acceptance of your identity in the world at large, and a place to call home. You may find love”—she nearly choked on the word—“or a great companionship, as well as many new friendships.You will belong.” She read the preprinted words. “Do you all accept your choosing witch’s dominion and agree to live by the witchworld rules?” Each of the thirteen warlocks said, “I do.” The fourteenth glaringly missing. A few witches expressed concerns about his whereabouts and what’d happened to Zelda. Not one Helwig sat in the room, which meant no one would choose Joshua and the third warlock, unless by a Hail Mary from another coven.

“Each warlock will come to the podium in your pre-selected order. You know who is vying for you by the names on the sign-up sheet. Those witches will state their proposal in two minutes or less. You may ask questions, then make your choice all within two minutes. By now, you’ve spoken with each witch. The witches will provide a counteroffer within the allotted time, and you may change your mind.” Sage paused to recall the rules for a situation she didn’t think had ever occurred. “For warlocks selected by Zelda Helwig, you may decline the offer, or hold your decision until later. However, since she’s not here, she forfeits her rights to you, and another witch is free to choose you. Or you’re free to leave.” She perused the eager young men. “Understood?” They all assented by nodding and otherwise verbalizing their affirmative responses. Joshua and the other warlock Zelda had chosen stood next to each other, arms crossed over their chests, seething in silence. Their brows furrowed in tandem.

Energized by the upcoming fun, witches whooped and clapped. Warlock numbers had dwindled over the last several years, and this solstice festival marked the largest group of unbonded warlocks they’d seen in years. The warlocks were not born to any modern witch, but possessed witch blood in their bloodlines. The growth in numbers alone was cause for celebration.

Sage called warlock number one. Stepping to her seat behind the podium, she tuned out the room. Her sight kept drifting to the closed door. One part wistful, the other part a slow-building resentment thawing the ice encasing her.

The process continued until Joshua’s name hit the list. He approached the podium, and Sage joined him, standing closer than she wanted. He eased aside so as not to touch her. The heat of his anger sailed off him.

“Joshua. What do you want to do?” she asked. Despite what’d happened, he didn’t fit in her coven. Half-assed magic and the thirty seconds of sex told her nothing about his potential. Sage feared whoever bonded him may travel a long road to train him. He had handsome and brawn going for him. Well, that and his large, but sorely lacking-in-talent tool. None of which were enough. Sage had the feeling he thought his enormous prick made up for his expertise. She hid a smile behind her hand.

“I’d like him to join my coven,” Misty shouted, rising from her chair. “I have a young witch who needs a third warlock.”

Shock zipped up Sage’s spine. She didn’t realize Misty’s younger witches had multiple warlocks. Not unheard of, but junior witches had only one warlock unless they needed extra protection, especially with the recent dwindling warlock numbers.

“Do you want to join the Medeiros coven?” Sage asked Joshua. “Misty is the High Priestess of the large San Francisco Bay region. Very prestigious covens.”

Before Joshua uttered a word, a commotion redirected attention to the main doors, both sides rolled wide open. Zelda and her entourage had arrived in the nick of time.

“I believe Joshua is mine,” the older witch announced from the double doorway. Three warlocks flanked her. “If he so chooses, of course. Joshua, I stand by my promises. Promises I doubt being a third warlock to a mediocre witch could match.”

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