Home > Harley Merlin and the Secret Coven (Harley Merlin #1)(17)

Harley Merlin and the Secret Coven (Harley Merlin #1)(17)
Author: Bella Forrest

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I replied.

“No, it doesn’t. I’ll be honest—your options will be limited at the end of this trial. You either join the coven or leave town and go somewhere where other covens will accept you as unaffiliated, though your chances are slim on that one. We cannot have it any other way. This coven is young, and it has been through years of neglect. In order for us to turn it around, we have to be strict. The one thing we don’t want to do is encourage rogues. There are a lot of eyes on us right now, and we can’t afford any mistakes. Plus, I’m confident that, by the end of this trial period, you’ll want to stay with us. The coven is like a big family. While we don’t carry a blood connection, we’re tied by something much deeper, and far more powerful.”

“So, it’s either join or get out, as long as it doesn’t affect your public image, right?” I concluded, my stomach aching with the prospects. Their attitude toward rogues sounded pretty shallow from where I stood, particularly after they’d been so adamant in describing their desire to keep humans safe from harmful magic. It seemed as though they were more worried about their reputation than anything else.

I was an independent creature, and I’d been through a lot to get to this point. My freedom was my most precious asset, and I had no intention of handing it over to anyone, not even a coven. On the other hand, I didn’t want to skip town, either. This city was everything I knew. I had roots here, no matter how skinny they were.

“As an unaffiliated rogue, you’ll just end up going through the same hoops with different covens. Nobody wants a magical who can’t be registered or controlled, not after what our people went through during the past four centuries. However, there is a third option, of you making a solid case for yourself as a Neutral and gaining permission to keep living in San Diego, as long as you don’t use your magic on humans. And that will come with a lot of monitoring and potential imprisonment, if you break the rules of such an accord. But the decision will not be made by the coven. It will be made by California’s Council of Mages,” Alton said. “And if you want them on your side, you need to help them get to know you better. Which brings us back to—”

“The one-month trial period,” I said, nodding slowly.

Okay, it wasn’t too bad. At least there were options. I could spend the next month assessing the coven, in return. This was a serious, life-changing commitment, and I hadn’t even decided what college I wanted to go to.

“That sounds reasonable,” I added. “Though, I wouldn’t hold my breath, if I were you.”

“That’s fine, Harley.” Alton chuckled. “I don’t expect you to even consider a decision yet. But you should know that the trial period is the only way I can give you time to think things through. The Council… let’s just say they’re not easy to deal with.”

We reached the end of the hallway, where a set of double doors awaited. He pushed them open and went in. I followed, gawking at the sheer size of the room, which was shaped like a dome. A massive chandelier poured down from the ceiling in swirls of brass and tear-shaped crystals. The walls were a slate gray, with gilded details, and four giant bronze dragons gazed at me from symmetrical points around the room.

Ten rows of individual desks were placed in a semicircular pattern, facing a floor-to-ceiling blackboard and a solid oak table loaded with books and various study objects, including a gorgeous, hand-painted globe with a map of the world.

Three large French windows covered the walls to my left and right, providing a healthy amount of natural light. Six magicals stood in front of the oak table, watching and smiling as we walked toward them.

“This is one of the six classrooms we provide for our young magicals,” Alton said. “You’ll be expected to attend lessons with the rest of the kids. You’ll be the oldest, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem. And these are our six preceptors.”

“Preceptors?” I replied, quickly scanning the three men and three women patiently waiting for us at the end of the narrow corridor between study desks.

“Trainers. Instructors. Teachers.” Alton offered synonyms, prompting me to purse my lips. I may have gone through two years of prep school, but it didn’t mean that everything they’d taught me had actually stuck. “They are here to help magicals control and develop their abilities, to teach them history and spells, and to provide guidance whenever necessary. Most of them were already here when I joined, but I’ve established two more subjects for the kids, as part of the upgrade of the coven.”

“Welcome to the San Diego Coven, Harley,” one of the witches said, offering a broad smile, while the others quietly measured me from head to toe, already forming their own opinions about me. The common emotion between them was curiosity. They all wanted to find out more about me, and it was a weird feeling, given that I’d spent most of my life trying my best not to stand out.

“Harley Smith, this is Jacintha Parks,” Alton said. “She’s the preceptor of Alchemy and Occult Chemistry. Her title is somewhat self-explanatory; I trust you don’t need me to explain anything at this point. She’s also our resident… pharmacist.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why the pause, though?”

“Because they’ve yet to figure out another term for the health services that I provide.” Jacintha grinned. “Thing is, aside from what I teach, I also procure medication and healing herbs for the magicals of this coven. I work closely with Adley de la Barthe on this, but neither of us is a medical professional, so our paperwork is a little vague.”

I nodded slowly, taking in every detail of her appearance. Jacintha was slightly taller than me, and slender, poured into a dark green velvet suit complete with a snug waistcoat and white shirt. The gold cufflinks and buttons brought out her amber eyes, and she kept her long black hair in a tight bun. Her features offered hints of Spanish heritage.

“This is Hiro Nomura, preceptor of Physical Magic. Everything related to attack and defense spells belongs to Hiro. He’s also a master swordsman, well-versed in human forms of combat,” Alton continued, introducing one of the warlocks. This guy looked like he’d been in a war or two, with several slim scars crossing the left side of his face. He wore a black tunic, simple and elegant, with broad sleeves. His name and features betrayed his Japanese origins, his black hair cut short, and his cheekbones sharp enough to slice a mango in half. I was particularly fascinated by the color of his eyes, as one was blue, and the other an almost reddish orange. I’d never seen such a combination before.

“It is an honor,” Hiro said, bowing curtly before me. I responded with a brief nod.

“Our athletics and combat instructors report to Hiro,” Alton explained. “Including O’Halloran, whom I believe you’ve already met?”

“Yeah, sort of. He said he wants to see what I’m made of later, though I’m not sure I like the thought of that,” I murmured.

Alton chuckled, while the others, including Hiro, smiled. I wasn’t sure if they were laughing at me or O’Halloran.

“O’Halloran is quite a firecracker,” Alton replied. “But he’s a very good instructor, and a friend of Hiro’s.”

“I take it you’re all tight here,” I said, noticing the warmth exuding from all of them at once. There was a bond between them, something profound and far more powerful than that between siblings—a deep affection that probably had more to do with their abilities as magicals, rather than anything else.

“Like I said, we’re a family here,” Alton replied. “We stick together.”

“How do you know how ‘tight’ we are?” another witch asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

She was just as fascinating as Hiro, mainly because she was atypical, and had nothing to point out her profession as a preceptor. Her pale blonde hair was short, a smooth buzzcut that brought out her big eyes—a peculiarly bright shade of amber with flakes of gold. She looked more like a goth band groupie, with a swath of tattoos covering the left side of her face and neck, and I assumed there were more beneath the layers of black leather she’d tucked herself into. Metal accents and piercings jingled whenever she moved.

“Harley, meet Sloane Bellmore, preceptor of Charms and Hexes. It’s a new subject we’re teaching in the coven, as there is a lot to cover beyond the boundaries of Occult Chemistry. Sloane will teach you how to cast them and, most importantly, how to break them, covering everything from charmed objects to curses. Not all magicals are good, and that’s where we come in,” Alton said, then smiled at Sloane. “You should all know that Harley here is an Empath. She tends to know things that we don’t normally share with the world.”

“Yeah, I know what an Empath is, Alton. I just didn’t know she was one of them,” Sloane replied, somewhat irritated as she glanced at me. I couldn’t read her, though, just like I couldn’t read O’Halloran or the platinum-haired guy back at the living quarters. I’d yet to figure out why, but that was only a matter of time. Chances were that she was putting on the tough-girl act, just to keep others from getting too friendly.

Sound like someone you know?

“Nice to meet you,” I replied with a nod, which she briskly returned.

“And this is Oswald Redmont,” Alton continued, introducing a short but spry middle-aged man with sprinkles of white in his light brown hair.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harley,” Oswald replied. “I’m the preceptor of International Magic Cultures. I teach crafts from across the world, both binding and unbinding. And before you ask, yes, that includes voodoo, hoodoo, Santeria, and all the real, good stuff. Not what you find on the Internet these days.”

“The key to this course is for our magicals to understand, recognize, and counteract magic from all over the world,” Alton explained. “America is a melting pot, after all, of so many different cultures. It would be difficult to do our jobs without knowing what we’re dealing with.”

   
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