Page 40 of The Holy Academy of Witches

The music came to a crescendo before it ended, the crowd cheering and chanting: “Muses! Muses! Muses!” I giggled, what an obvious name. Still, as they left the stage I couldn’t help but agree that at least one of them was a God of music. Even if he was an arrogant pain in my ass, or at least my wrist. Man that Rum & Coke must have been strong.

I managed to pay the tab and make it out the door before a strong hand grasped my shoulder. I grabbed the wrist and twisted, ducking away to get a clear look. Cillian rubbed at his wrist, a pinched look on his face. Good, that wasn’t even close to the pain I’d felt earlier.

“What are you doing here, Miss Williams?” I paused at his formal title, “I haven’t got all night, did you follow me here?”

“No of course not, I’m not one of your groupies!” I hissed.

A smirk played across his face. Although I noticed there wasn’t anyone on his arm. Not that it would matter if there was.

“What brought you here then?” He asked smoothly, assured there could be no other answer.

“That,” I said, gesturing to his wrist.

“What?”

“Were you in any trouble recently? Before the set by any chance?”

His brow creased, “No, I wasn’t.”

“So nothing out of the ordinary happened?” I pressed.

“No, it was all very standard.” His eyes met mine, a question in them. “What?-”

“- Not here.” Was all I dared say before heading away from the bar.

“Sage, stop.” I turned at my name, confused again by his choice of title. “Wait here,” he instructed. He headed back into the bar before quickly re-emerging with a black motorcycle helmet. He was wearing a leather jacket and pointed to a cobalt blue motorcycle that looked very, very fast. “Hop on, I’ll try not to kill us both.” He said with a grin. I kept my smile as small as possible until it was hidden by the helmet he passed me. Okay, maybe he was a little less of an asshole than I thought. Or maybe I just didn’t mind it as much in this context.

Twenty-One

Sage

The ride was glorious, the open road blurring as he took us through the maze of trees like a practised blade. Taking turns and trails at a speed I’d never dare dream of taking. My heart was pounding as I bunched his buttery leather jacket in my fists. He came to a stop outside a small log cabin and I looked around in confusion. A stream flowed past and I spotted a watermill a bit further behind.

Cillian hung his helmet on the handlebar before turning to help me get off. We then walked the bike into a small shed. His hair was even more messed than before but I found the look just as confusing as the smile he was wearing.

“Why do you look like that?”

His smile faltered, “like what? A performer?”

“No…” I didn’t mean to speak the question aloud but now I felt like I needed the answer. Craved it. “You look…”

“Exhilarated? Overjoyed?” He mocked.

“Yes… but no, you look…” I took in the flush of his cheeks, his bright eyes. The smile that had slowly morphed into the smug line I was used to. “Oh forget it.” I sighed, leaning on the wall of the shed.

“Okay it’s forgotten. Come on in, I need to change.” He said, a bit of the light leaving his eyes before marching for the door. He opened it with a bit more force than necessary, flicking his hand at the fireplace as he stomped into the small kitchen.

The fireplace sizzled and guttered until Cillian came closer, bursting into flames at his glare. He handed me a bottle of water before shrugging off his leather jacket and making his way back to the only door on the far wall. I sat in the deep love seat in front of the fire, taking off the offensive tennis shoes to dig my toes into one of the lush rugs that littered the floor. Sipping my water, I hummed, my heart slowing as I leaned my head back. First a privileged asshole, then a music God, a motorcyclist, and now a cabin guy? Who was Cillian Lynch? Did Adeline know? Would she tell me? I definitely couldn’t ask him,could I?

The door opened with a creak and the man himself walked back into the room, his uniform firmly back in place, no hint of ink to be found.

“Alright then Sage, what were you doing at the bar?”

“After you left, the mark started burning and glowing, like a brand. It was excruciating, I thought you were in trouble, that this was an opportunity to pay you back so I just… found you. But when I got there you were only playing.”

“Just found me? Only playing?” He asked, trying to poke holes in my story.

“Well, yeah.” I said, tucking my feet under me.

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