“I came here five years ago, around the same time as Garrett, but of my own volition,” Wade replied.
“Why? I mean, from what you’re all telling me, the San Diego Coven isn’t exactly illustrious.”
“It isn’t, but it has potential,” he explained. “Halifax was running the show when I got here, and we didn’t get along very well. I raised flags with the Mage Council, and eventually had him removed. I believe that the magical society is only as good as its lowest-rated coven, and San Diego is very close to the bottom line. I took it as a challenge, and I’ve been working to improve it ever since.”
I grinned. “So, you are eyeing a leadership position in the future.”
“It would be foolish not to.” Wade cocked his head to the side, a smile flickering across his face. “Alton won’t live forever, and I am of noble descent, after all. My name means something in this world, and I’m expected to achieve great things—which, of course, I intend to do.”
“Oh, noble descent!” I said, feigning a British accent. “Shall I call you Sire?”
He didn’t immediately respond. Instead, his deep green eyes drilled through me, while I sensed amusement and pride emanating from him. “Have you ever heard of Aleister Crowley, Harley?”
“The name rings a bell.”
Given my murky state of mind after the gargoyle attack, my synapses weren’t functioning as smoothly as I would’ve wanted. The name did sound familiar, but, for the life of me, I couldn’t find its origins.
“He was a famed English occultist in the first half of the twentieth century,” Wade said, as I started remembering what I’d read on the subject. “His public life, the one known to humans, that is, was mostly a hoax. He founded a religion, experimented with drugs, and fathered three children. He’s known mostly for his writings.”
“But the magical world remembers him differently?”
Wade nodded. “Beyond the façade of the ceremonial magician, ‘the wickedest man in the world’ was, in fact, one of the most accomplished warlocks in modern history. He dedicated his life to portraying that whimsical, dysfunctional man, while his surviving children continued his work. He lived during a time when wars were tearing through our world, and magicals were risking exposure, particularly in times of such disputes between nations.”
“Why were war times extra risky?” I asked, struggling to make a connection to the history I knew.
“There were magicals who sought to profit from their presence on the battlefield.” He shook his head in disdain. “The World Wars weren’t just a matter of humans versus humans. We had to get involved, too, trying to protect our society from discovery, because of those terrible few. Crowley’s persona did the job and managed to discredit many who tried to come forward as magicals.”
“I take it you’re related to Aleister Crowley, then?” And happy to brag about it…
“Lola, one of his daughters, was my great-grandmother. I never met her, though,” Wade replied. “You’ll learn all about the Crowleys in your Coven History class, but just to finish my point here: yes, I am related to him. And yes, I plan to continue honoring the name as best as I can. Though, I’m not a fan of such theatrical deceit as Aleister Crowley’s.”
“Yeah, you don’t strike me as charismatic enough to pull off such a persona.” I giggled. For a second, I worried he might’ve gotten offended, judging by his straight face. But all I was getting from him was a gentle chuckle on the inside. “What about your parents?”
“My mother is the director of the Houston Coven, and my father is on the Texas Mage Council,” he replied, a tinge of pride in his tone.
“Ah, that’s why you know about Garrett’s troubled past.”
“My father is friends with Garrett’s dad, although he avoids telling me any interesting secrets,” Wade said, and I could sense he felt sorry for Garrett, in a way. There was probably more to this story, but I was too tired and shaken to pursue it further. Dinner first, then hot shower, then sleep. Maybe five more minutes and our food would be ready. I could already smell the fried rice from the kitchen.
“So, about the points system,” I said, trying to sort the various questions in my mind by order of importance.
“If we manage to increase our score by the end of this year, it’ll pave the way for next year’s efforts. Once we start getting the bonuses, the other covens won’t look down on us anymore,” Wade said. “The bottom line is that this coven deserves better funding. Our magicals are good people, just jaded and undervalued.”
“How does the scoring work, though?” I asked. “What’s the criteria? Save a cat from a tree, get ten points? Park illegally, lose five?”
He smirked. “Something like that. The greater the deed, the higher the number of points awarded to the coven. We run a number of missions, mostly focused on discovering and registering new magicals, educating the ones we get in, maintaining the secrecy of our society, and helping humans when rogue magicals attempt to hurt or influence their world.”
“How would a magical influence the human world? I mean, other than standing on top of the Empire State Building and announcing a new world order?”
“Some sneak into government and military positions. Out of all the spells and potions we’ve gathered over eons, the one thing we don’t have is a ‘magical detector’ of sorts. We rely on investigation and observation. We cannot feel other magicals. If you put a magical in a room full of people, he won’t be able to point out other magicals unless he pays attention and catches them while performing spells. I hold hope that someday we will come up with such a spell, but until then, it’s good ol’ fashioned detective work for the covens to identify new magicals. To be honest, most of the time it’s easy. As children, we have little to no control over our abilities. Accidents happen.”
“What about Adley de la Barthe? She did that Reading on me. Can’t you work on mainstreaming that particular process?”
“She is working on something, but the Reading requires the subject’s consent. You were reluctant, for example, but eventually allowed her to Read your blood. If you were to adamantly say no, she wouldn’t have been able to see a thing. She’s researching ways to bypass that, but it takes time and plenty of tests. With sufficient funding, Adley might find a detection method within the next decade.”
The bell above the main entrance door jingled, prompting both Wade and me to turn our heads. To my surprise and, based on what I was feeling, Wade’s, too, Garrett walked in. He was absently swiping through his phone as he headed toward the counter. He looked up, his lips stretching into a grin as he saw us.
“Crap.” Wade watched as Garrett made his way between several tables to stop by ours, first. Only then did I notice sadness, somewhere deep inside him. Using logic and the information I’d gathered so far, I understood why. Their dads were friends; it stood to reason that Wade and Garrett had once been friends, too. Something had clearly changed, to put them at such opposite poles now. Something Wade felt sorry about.
“Funny running into you two here,” Garrett said, though he didn’t sound amused. I really disliked not being able to feel him. He narrowed his eyes at Wade. “I see you didn’t waste any time trying to get into the new girl’s pants.”
“Watch your mouth, Garrett. This is human territory, and you don’t want to set her off,” Wade warned him, and I wasn’t sure whether I should feel flattered or offended. For the first time ever—and much to my surprise—I decided to keep my mouth shut and watch their dynamic unfold.
“So, what, I’m not interrupting a date?” Garrett raised an eyebrow at me.
I simply shook my head in response, ignoring the flames in my cheeks. My stomach tightened, but that wasn’t me. That was Wade.
“No, we’re just waiting for food,” Wade replied. “I’m guessing you haven’t heard yet.”
“Heard what?” Garrett frowned, his gaze darting between Wade and me.
“There was another gargoyle attack,” Wade said. “Three of them came after Harley in her apartment.”
I showed him the smoky jar on the table, next to the condiments basket. His jaw nearly dropped, his eyes wide with shock.
“Only one made it,” I added. “We had to kill the other two before they hurt people.”
“Are you okay?” Garrett looked at me, sounding concerned. I didn’t see that coming, so all I managed to think of in response was a shrug. He then scowled at Wade. “Why wasn’t I notified?”
“I don’t know,” Wade replied, slightly amused. “I texted Alton about it. He decides who is privy to this information.”
“And you didn’t think to call me, too? You know, since I’m leading the investigative team? Or are you that jealous that you’re willing to sabotage the actual investigation just to spite me?” Garrett spat.
“Tone it down, Sherlock. I’m sure Alton will call you soon enough,” Wade said. His fingers tapped the wooden surface of the table in no particular rhythm, but his rings were giving off a faint, warm white glow. I wasn’t sure what that meant, given how little I knew about an Esprit, but I had trouble looking away—the delicate light cast elegant shadows over his long, piano-player fingers. “It happened less than half an hour ago.”
As if summoned, Garrett’s phone rang, and I caught a glimpse of Alton’s name on the screen before he picked up. “Yes, sir?”
“Sir?” I mouthed, looking at Wade with slight confusion. Garrett had been quite disrespectful earlier during the assembly, so “sir” sounded alien coming out of his mouth. Wade stifled a grin, as he patiently waited for Garrett to finish his phone call. I found myself fascinated by the fine line forming at the corner of Wade’s mouth whenever he smiled. He didn’t have Garrett’s dimpled cuteness. There was something more mature and… masculine about his expression.