Page 2 of Stalked By Monsters

I huff out a breath of irritation, biting back the scathing remark that begs to slip from my lips as I stand, taking the dismissal for what it is.Thank the goddess. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to bear sitting there for another round of bullshit I already know.

“Part with the wisdom of your ancestors and the strength of your coven,” she chants, her eyes closing as glittering sparks of gold dance around her before dissipating into the air.

“May the goddess protect us all,” I answer in turn, pushing my power into the words and letting the spell of protection swirl around me. The gold flecks from my spell don’t dissipate though—they hang thickly, charging the space before they sink into the walls and floor. Energy thrums through the air and the room glows gold slightly until it too fades, leaving everything just as it was.

I don’t dare meet Glenda’s eyes, not wanting to see the spark of jealousy there, and turn to the door. I try hiding it the best I can, but whenever I evoke the name of the goddess my powers can’t help but answer. I hold far more power than my grandmother can ever hope to wield, more than any witch has held in thousands of years.

I stride for the door, refusing to quicken my pace despite the feeling of her eyes burning into my back. Her greed isn’t something I need to deal with right now, not when I have so many other things on my mind. But I know that if there were some way that she could take my power as her own, she would, regardless of me being her own flesh and blood. Grandma is a ruthless bitch, and that’s one fact I can’t afford to ever forget.

My hand closes around the brass knob and I almost let a sigh of relief slip from my lips at the comforting reassurance that I’m almost free. I calmly open the door, letting the cool air from the hallway wash over me as I step outside and close it behind me.

Pushing down the urge to lean back against the door and take a moment for myself, I keep walking, not wanting to take the chance of being caught in a vulnerable position. I glance around the seemingly empty corridor, the empty ancient oil paintings lining the walls, the eyes of the portraits seemingly following me. I honestly wouldn’t put it past Glenda to have spelled them to spy for her. Streams of sunlight filter in through the lead glass windows, bathing me in the sun’s warmth with each one I pass. Cold air washes over me in the next moment, reminding me of the darkness that truly lives within the castle walls as I pass the sections of royal blue wallpaper.

The past four years were a blessing, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to the continued distance the post-graduate academy would afford me from Glenda. Endcliffe Academy, my one last chance to be on my own, independent from the responsibilities looming just over the horizon. But with every opportunity comes a downside, and I’m really not looking forward to seeing that walking mistake again.

Pausing by the staircase, I pull in a deep breath and steel myself for what’s about to come while attempting to ignore how my body thrums with just the thought of seeing him.Fuck. I’m seriously treading on thin ice right now.My every move will be watched at the academy, and I’m sure the headmistress isn’t the only person Glenda has who will be surveying me like a hawk. At twenty-two years old, I really thought I’d have a bit more freedom, but not in this family apparently.

I can’t afford to be seen with the likes of him, not if I want to avoid being locked away in a tower, because there’s no way we can be together, and there’s absolutely no way in Hell that my grandmother would ever take a chance of another heir potentially running away, especially for a reason as foolhardy as love. It really doesn’t help that he’s not the only temptation I’ll have either, and the second is just as forbidden as the first.

Beams of red, blue, yellow, and green light shimmer against the hardwood landing and I glance up at the stained glass window just above me. My chest deflates at the scene depicted there, the one I used to admire countless times as a child. The historic moment of the first Hart witch of Endcliffe, raising her bloody sword in triumph. My ancestors built this town, saved the witches and shifters from the prying eyes and persecution of the humans who didn’t understand our magic so they chose to slaughter and hunt us instead. It’s easier to hide amongst them in today’s world, but centuries ago, this town was our only hope at survival.

I’ve always wished to be like her, Isabella Hart. To help my coven, and keep them safe, to be the protector that she was. Straightening my shoulders, I send another tendril of protective magic into the castle, and watch the warm golden glow illuminate the panes of colored glass. I’ll be what my coven needs me to be, I’ll protect them with my dying breath. With that final pledge, I descend the stairs and push any lingering thoughts of the two forbidden men from my mind. I won’t be like my mother, I won’t abandon my people for a love as fleeting and changing as the seasons. I am Aria Hart—the next coven leader of the Hart witches—and nothing will stand in the way of claiming my birthright.

Chapter Two

Aria

“Youlookridiculous,”Cartersnorts, eyes glinting with amusement as I descend the last few stairs. He shakes his head, unable to wipe the smirk from his face despite the snarl of irritation that slips from my lips.

“Look who’s talking, dipshit,” I fling back at him as my hand slips from the varnished wood railing, my brow lifting in a challenging look.

My black Louboutin heels click on the hardwood and I pause just at the bottom of the stairs, my eyes scanning up the man before me. He leans casually against the antique royal blue wallpaper, his shoulder brushing precariously against the ornate wooden frame of one of Glenda’s favorite oil paintings. Sure, this uniform may be as ridiculous as he has so aptly pointed out, but I’m not the only one wearing one right now. The sunlight gleams off his designer leather loafers, and his black dress pants are perfectly pressed. The dark green coat looks as if it too was just returned from the drycleaners, and there isn’t a wrinkle to be found on the white dress shirt or black tie.

“At least I’ve accepted it,” he says smugly, as though conforming is something to be proud of. “You know they’re going to make you take those chokers off, right?”

“Sure, leaning into the preppy boy bullshit is something to be oh so proud of,” I huff out on a breath of amusement. “And we’ll see about that.”

The academy might be forcing me to wear this absurdly short black pleated skirt, dark green jacket, and white dress shirt as a uniform, but that doesn’t mean that I have to fade into the crowd. I’ll be keeping my black chokers and black stiletto nails no matter what. Sometimes it’s the little things in life that keep you from pulling your hair out with frustration.

“Of course, Coven Leader Aria is at the academy now,” he snarks back. “Uniform rules beware.”

“Can you shut the hell up and give your sister a hug you asshole?” I huff out, annoyed with the fact that he hasn’t even moved a muscle yet. I mean, I love to bother him, that’s my duty as a little sister, but I still have the entire car ride and the next year at the academy to get under his skin.

“Fine,” he groans dramatically, pushing off the wall. His shoulder brushes against the frame again, almost knocking the battle painting of Isabella Hart to the floor. The swaying frame makes the bloody battle that was fought to secure our town seem to resume for a second. Human bodies litter the ground, slain by the magic and brute force of our ancestors.

Taking a step forward, I move to meet him in the middle of the grand foyer, but I pause as he too walks forward. My breath catches in my throat as the beam of sunlight sparks on his golden hair.I’m five years old and my father’s pouring me an imaginary cup of tea in the garden, the sun beaming down on him, lighting up his golden hair like a halo.Little did I know, a week later he would be taken from us—his life snatched away by a stray bullet.

I still can’t decide if it was a warning from the goddess or not, and every time Carter’s hair lights like that, it freezes my blood in my veins. I can normally ignore his resemblance to our father, but sometimes it just catches me off guard, especially when the sun gleams off his golden locks like it is now.

“Aria,” Carter exclaims, his voice breaking through the repressed memories rushing to the surface. He grips my shoulders roughly, forcing me to look up into his blue-green eyes, a mirror to my own, our grandmother’s and our mother’s. That thought shocks me the rest of the way from my thoughts, crashing over me like a bucket of ice-water.

“I’m fine,” I groan, attempting to step out of his hold, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. “It was just your hair,” I mutter, knowing he won’t let this go until I give him something.

“I missed you, sis,” he breathes, his hands shifting to envelop me in a tight embrace. And that’s what I love about my brother. I don’t need to offer any other explanation other than that, he just knows. Both of us had trouble at first—he’s the spitting image of my father, while I look just like my mother—but we were both able to work past that, to see each other for the people we are and not who we resemble.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, attempting to seem unfazed as I return his hug. We both stay like this for a moment, neither of us wanting to move away too soon. It’s always been us against the world, and the handful of times I’ve seen my brother in the last year weren’t nearly enough. “If you missed me so much you would’ve visited in the last month I’ve been back,” I tease, hoping to shift the attention back to him. But I know I’ve said the wrong thing by the way he stiffens, his spine going ramrod straight.

“You know why I stayed away,” Carter mumbles. He takes a step back and I do the same, the moment broken by the reminder of where we are and who waits upstairs. “Besides, it will be like the old days now that we’re at the same school again. You’ll be sick of me in no time.”

---