Wade shook his head. “I found her, so she’s kind of my responsibility. At least until she gets her induction. Then she’s on her own.”
“We both know that’s not true, Wade,” I replied with a smirk. He was worried about me—it was an underlying feeling that I could’ve missed, had I not paid extra attention. He was an interesting bundle of emotions, from what I’d gathered so far. I frustrated the hell out of him, and yet, he couldn’t stay away. And the fact that I could read him made him extra nervous. I was going to burn in hell for how much I was enjoying that state of mind.
“Whatever you think you’re reading, you’re wrong,” he shot back. “You can barely hold it together in a crowd, so I doubt you’re that good at this whole Empath nonsense.”
“Holy crap, you’re an Empath?” Tatyana gasped, and I could almost feel her closing off—or elegantly trying, anyway.
I was already exhausted, and knowing that the more they tried to hide from me the louder their emotions blared through me, I let out a heavy sigh and decided to address the problem. “Listen, yeah, I’m an Empath. I feel you all, and the more you try to keep stuff from me, the heavier I feel it. I strongly recommend that you all just relax when I’m around. I won’t tell anyone what I’m experiencing, unless asked, and only if it’s for a good cause. I’m not comfortable with it either, and I’m still learning to keep it under control, but today has been kind of crazy and my control buttons are all… glitchy. Just don’t worry about me feeling you. I can. And that’s cool. I won’t judge, I promise. Chances are I won’t even pay attention,” I said in one long breath, then turned to look at Wade. “As for you, Mr. High and Mighty, my sensors are quite attuned after all these years, so yeah, I know exactly what you’re going through whenever you’re around me. We both know that I annoy you, and that I make you uncomfortable. And that’s cool. I like making you uncomfortable.”
I ended my statement with a grin. Raffe stifled a chuckle, then pretended to drink from his coffee mug when he noticed my gaze shifting to him. He was a peculiar creature indeed, and I had a hard time putting my finger on what was off, exactly.
“What’s up with you? What’s your story?” I asked him.
He blinked, as if taken by surprise without his pocket notes handy for quick answers. “What… Um, what do you mean?”
“Why are you here? I hear your dad’s the big kahuna in the Council, and this is a coven of Mediocres and jaded rejects,” I replied, giving Wade an intentional sideways glance—instantly feeling his wrath boiling through my veins. My inner devil giggled. “So, how’d you end up here?”
Raffe was a little worried, choosing his words carefully. Anxiety was creeping up, too, along with what sounded like maniacal laughter in the back of my head. This was all kinds of weird, and I was fascinated.
“Can we just call it ‘difference of opinions’ when referring to why I got transferred here?” he replied with an impish smile.
“That doesn’t clear anything up,” I said.
“What you need to do is fill out the damn form, so I can pass it to HR by the end of the day,” Wade interjected.
I gave him a brief scowl, then continued writing my bogus birthday into one of the boxes, followed by my current address and social security number.
“My dad and I don’t get along,” Raffe conceded. “At all. He’s a very powerful warlock, and everybody looks up to him. Some even fear him. I’m very different from the rest of my family. That’s pretty much the whole gist. And they’re all traditionalists, while I’m more of a… liberal.”
“Yeah, I get the whole different-from-the-rest-of-the-family part,” Dylan said. “My mom thought I was going to take up a football scholarship at Yale. Instead I’m here, and I’m signed up for community college so I can stay close to the coven.”
“Why didn’t you go to Yale?” I replied. “Surely there’s a coven in New Haven.”
“I thought about it. Thing is, my magical abilities have a lot to do with my athleticism,” Dylan said, his shoulders dropping. “I’m what they call a Herculean. And the New Haven coven is currently under investigation. The last thing they needed was a raw, late-blooming magical who was bound to stand out on the Yale football team, and not in a good way.”
“A raw magical is kind of like letting a wildfire loose,” Tatyana explained. “Dylan needs constant monitoring in the first year as a coven magical, mainly because he’s just found his Esprit and he has to learn to control it. Right now, he’s like a nuclear warhead, without any safety measures. One wrong nudge, and boom, all of New Haven will witness one hell of a… football game.”
I frowned. “I thought the Esprit was meant to control one’s power, not make it worse.”
“It does. Once you get used to it. And that takes time and practice,” Dylan replied. “Trust me, I know!”
“What’s your Esprit?” I asked.
Dylan showed me his high school graduation ring, cast in silver, with a football encrusted in mother of pearl against a black enamel backdrop, and smiled. “I love football, and I got this from my coach when I graduated high school. It means the world to me. It reminds me of what my life could’ve been, had I been born a human.”
“You don’t sound too excited to be a warlock,” I said.
“Honestly, I’m not.” He sighed. “But it’s kind of growing on me. I’m in an adjustment period, I guess. They want me to spend less time with my college buddies, but that’s not going to happen. Those are my boys.”
I had a feeling he’d spent his whole life pushing his magical abilities back, fighting his nature with everything he had, until one day he went, like Tatyana had so eloquently put it, “boom,” and was detected by the San Diego Coven. My mojo had come in gradually. I’d already had my adjustment period, and I’d never denied my true nature. I hadn’t embraced it, but I’d learned to make good use of whatever I could, to navigate my existence in the “normal world.”
“Have you found your Esprit yet?” Santana asked me, apparently uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed. No one seemed to like hearing Dylan’s longing for his human life. Their magical existence was a reason for pride, and they loved it, while Dylan was still struggling with the whole concept.
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head.
“Don’t worry, you’ll find it,” Santana replied, and showed me hers. It was a keychain shaped like a guitar, with intricate and colorful detailing engraved around a Mexican sugar skull in the middle. “I found this in a small souvenir shop in Catemaco, my hometown back in Mexico, two years ago. We just clicked. The moment I touched it, I knew.”
Tatyana then showed me hers, a beautiful sterling silver bracelet with a single, round sapphire. Its crystalline blue was almost hypnotizing. “My mother gave this to me when I turned fourteen. It’s one of the few good things I ever got from the Vasilis clan.”
There was sadness in her voice, uncharacteristic of her otherwise icy demeanor, and I could feel it deep in the pit of my stomach. Wade noticed my expression, but didn’t bother to fill in any blanks, like before. Instead, he pointed at the form.
“Finish that.”
“I hate you,” I replied dryly.
“I’m not here to be liked.”
“Then why are you here?” I retorted.
“He’s one of the best warlocks in this city, and probably the whole state of California,” Astrid said, beaming at me. “He’s not the most likable character in this coven, but his heart’s in the right place and he’s less of a jerk than, say, Garrett and his evil sidekick, Finch.”
They all chuckled, and even Wade allowed himself a half-smile in response to Astrid’s attempt at a compliment. I liked her. She was sweet but blunt. Like a sugar-coated hammer.
“What’s up with Garrett, by the way? I can’t read him. I can’t read Finch, either. And a few other people in this place. I don’t usually get that,” I said, then looked up at Wade.
He didn’t have an answer, and neither did the others. All I got in return were heads slowly shaking and mild shrugs. Raffe seemed interested, though. “Have you tried feeling them? Like, reach out, instead of letting their emotions come to you?”
“That’s not how Empathy works.” I pursed my lips. “I don’t have to try anything. I automatically feel them. The only thing I need to work on is blocking certain or all emotions. I’m like a cellphone tower. Whatever signal comes out, I catch it.”
“I’ve never met an actual Empath. I’ve only read about them in books. You people are so rare,” Raffe replied, fascinated. “I guess they don’t have accurate info on your ability.”
“Or maybe it varies from one Empath to another. Beats me!” I shrugged. “Point is, there are some magicals I can’t read. Five I know of for sure. Garret, Finch, O’Halloran, Preceptor Bellmore, and Imogene Whitehall. There were others in the assembly hall, but I don’t know who they are.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, if I were you,” Raffe said. “Some magicals might have natural barriers. I can look into it, if you’d like. I could also suggest some light reading for you, to brush up on your Empathy knowledge.”
“That would be great, thanks!” I smiled. “Seriously, I appreciate it.”
“Like I said, you’re rare.” Raffe nodded respectfully. “Empaths used to be regarded with great reverence in the Middle Ages. They helped witches avoid the angry villagers and the religious zealots. Today, there are maybe three hundred Empaths in the entire world.”
“Oh, hell, that is rare,” I said, suddenly feeling like a white tiger. Or a white rhino, depending on the amount of carbs I consumed throughout the week.