Night Witch (Weatherstone College #2)

Chapter 1

Music pumped around me. It was Eighties Night, and as Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” blasted through the

rink, I skated past a lilac-haired chick with heavy eyeliner, hip checking her in the side and sending her flying. “Bitch,”

she screeched, tumbling into the wall, but I didn’t look back. She’d been gunning for me all night; I just got the first decent

hit in.

Roller Derby was therapeutic, and I was all about keeping my temper in check these days. This was the perfect solution to

working off my frustrations.

When the event was over, and I’d been hit more than once myself, I dragged my sorry, exhausted ass off the floor and up to

the booth where I’d left my sneakers. Switching out of my skates, I hobbled over to my cubby to stash them, then made my way

to the counter to finish my shift. But before I got there, a shout grabbed my attention.

“Paisley Hallistar, you are fucking brutal.”

Spinning with a shriek, I threw myself at Sara Collier, one of my best friends from Weatherstone College. I wrapped my arms

around her, and she made happy noises as we rocked back and forth and hugged through “Like a Prayer” by Madonna.

My eyes were damp when I pulled away to look her over.

Dressed in her skinny jeans, a tight red sweater, and red heels, she looked gorgeous.

“You actually made it.” Swiping at my cheeks to catch any escaped tears, I was surprised to find a smile on my face.

A real smile. For the first time in a month.

“Of course I did. You needed me, girl, and now that I’m back from Romania, you’ve got me for as long as it takes.”

“Haley?” I asked, checking in on our other bestie, Haley Michaels, who’d been trying to make this trip as well.

The three of us had been separated since the end of the school year, during which I’d had everything I knew about myself and

my life torn apart.

Sara shook her head, and a fraction of my excitement faded. “Her dad’s injury is worse than they thought. She’s going to stay

and help out for a few more days. But she’ll meet us in the city for your dad’s trial.”

Haley’s dad had broken his right leg, left arm, and a few ribs at his job on the docks. A cable had snapped, sending heavy

boxes tumbling down around him. They didn’t have money for healers, so he was going to have to go about it the human way,

which meant a fairly extensive recovery process.

“I’ll send another care package,” I said, lifting my long hair off my sweaty neck in search of a cool breeze. Winter might

be approaching, but this room was always packed and stifling during derby nights.

“I’ll go halves,” Sara said, before she grabbed my hand again. “I’m so excited to finally be here. Sleepover at Paisley’s. After you tell me all the news, of course.”

Technically, I was still on shift, but my boss wouldn’t care with the night winding down, so I dragged Sara over to the chairs

in the corner and we collapsed together. “I have so much to tell you,” I said as we faced each other. “I’ve been scared to

text details because this is crazy shit.”

Sara didn’t look surprised—I might have been cagey in texts and calls, but she knew the basics from last year and what I’d managed to convey in cryptic messages. “I’ve got the rest of winter break, so spill everything.”

Taking a deep breath, I attempted to organize my thoughts before deciding there was no making sense of what had happened.

Lowering my voice to a sliver above a whisper, I said, “I’m the one who created the monsters.”

Might as well hit her with the biggie and hope her first instinct wasn’t to punch—or hex—me. Or worse, report me to the High

Council of Magic.

I trusted my friends, but after Belle—the fourth of our friendship group, and the one I was trying my best not to think about—spilled

my secrets to her father last year, it was hard to not have doubts. Even if I was fairly sure that particular friend had innocently dropped my ass in the fire.

To Sara’s credit, she didn’t freak out. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted, but she remained silent.

“I didn’t know,” I hurried to add. “It’s to do with my affinity, and what I think is a recessive gene that allows me to touch

previously off-limit planes of existence. I don’t know if it means I’m just a beefed-up necromancer or what, but there’s a

difference in my magic.”

A magic I still knew very little about and that wasn’t under my control.

Sara’s eyes grew even wider, until she resembled an anime character. “It killed someone,” she blurted as the color drained

from her pretty features.

I closed my eyes, forcing panic and disgust back inside the box where I’d been shoving them for weeks. Knowing I was directly

to blame for the death of a student had given me a new set of nightmares to add to the old ones, making me wake up screaming

more than once.

“I’m trying to figure out how to live with that,” I said when I could face her again. My emotions were locked down hard because I couldn’t lose it. Not ever again. “I don’t know what to do once the monsters are here. I can’t get angry or upset, because it could trigger another event,

and I’m not sure I can even go back to Weatherstone next year.”

That had Sara jerking upright and grabbing my arm, and to my surprise, she showed no hesitance or fear in touching me. “You

have to come back! How else will you learn to control it unless you’re at the best magic school in the country?”

“I don’t think Weatherstone can help me. If this is the recessive gene, it was wiped out centuries ago.” Though clearly some

of us had slipped through the cracks. Like Gran.

“Start at the beginning,” Sara said, still holding me. “Tell me everything.”

Fuck. This was not going to be a short conversation, but with Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill” blaring as the perfect background

track, I decided I couldn’t keep trying to navigate this alone. My parents had promised to tell me everything they knew, but

it turned out, outside of the book they’d given me and the letters from Gran, they didn’t know much. My affinity had taken

all of us by surprise.

The two biggest changes were Gran’s letters providing a potion that would suppress the magic and the loss of my crystals.

All forms of crystal amplified my powers, which was a big no at the moment.

Oh, and Mom had also made me promise never to talk about my abilities to anyone. Not to my siblings. Not to my friends.

I’d tried to keep my promise, but I was breaking apart in ways that I feared I couldn’t come back from. I had to talk to someone

about it, and Sara hadn’t run screaming . . .

“Logan and I got into a fight . . . that night on All Hallows’ Eve . . . right after you left me in the graveyard. It was about Dad, and the suspension from school, and he basically implied that Belle was the one who got Dad into trouble by spilling everything to Elder Monroe.”

Sara didn’t look shocked by this either. “I’ve been thinking this over and drew the same conclusion about Belle’s new relationship

with her dad being half of our trouble. In a bid to get him to love her, she revealed everything. She wouldn’t expect he’d

use that information to try to hurt her friend.”

“Yep, and considering I’ve barely heard from her . . . She doesn’t answer my calls, and her return texts are so short that

they might as well be a fucking thumbs-up emoji.”

“Me and Haley too.” Sara’s face fell. “She’s cut us all off.”

“Or her dad cut her off from us.”

We exchanged a dark stare, but there was nothing we could do to help Belle at the moment. I’d be seeing her father in the

city in a few days, when Dad’s trial got underway.

I’d hopefully get some answers then.

“Okay, so you had a fight . . .” Sara prodded me along.

“Right, we had a fight, and I was so pissed off. He riled me up until I wanted to punch him in the fucking junk.”

Sara gave a shrugging nod. “I bet that’s not all you want to do with his junk. It’s impressive junk. You don’t damage the

goods unless you’ve used them first.”

It felt weird to laugh, but she wasn’t completely wrong. “Keep it in your pants, witch. Logan is most likely an evil bastard,

no matter how sexy he looks.”

Sara didn’t appear convinced.

I continued. “When we fought, the blanket suppressing Weatherstone was gone, and with the All Hallows’ energy beating down on me, my own power was swirling like crazy.

Then the monsters started to appear. I was jabbing my finger at Logan, and with each one, another creature showed up.

” My voice shook as I recalled the moment I realized it had been me all along.

“I couldn’t really deny my involvement after that. ”

“We felt the energy,” she told me, her voice softening. “Everyone in the whole school did. When we couldn’t find you in the

graveyard, we freaked the fuck out and raced for the headmaster, only to find him on the phone with your dad, who said he’d

stopped by to grab you early. Not that we fucking believed him, but we couldn’t do much until we called you the next day.”

When Sara and Haley called, I’d barely managed more than a couple of awkward sentences, since I couldn’t reveal any secrets

over the phone. Mom had made me promise—she might not have answers, but she did have new rules. She’d lose her shit if she

knew I was spilling all of this to Sara.

“Do you think I’m a monster too?” One of my greatest fears was that by the time the dust settled on everyone learning who

I was, I’d be completely alone. “Now that you know the truth?”

Sara’s face crumpled and a tear escaped as she threw herself forward, hugging me as tightly as she could. “Paisley Hallistar,”

she rasped against my shoulder. “I should smack you. I would never think you were a monster.” She pulled away and I stared

into the depths of her dark eyes. “Magic is volatile, and you’re dealing with a recessive gene of energy that was wiped out

years ago. This is not your fault. You’re one of the best witches I’ve ever known, and you risked your life to try to kill

that monster.”

The irony of battling a monster that I’d conjured wasn’t lost on me, and my mind drifted to the book. The Reapers of Purgatory was the only book I’d found that contained information about my affinity. Night witch.

Night witches were said to exist in the shadows and consume the darkness. We were vilified as demon-witches by the very council who had wiped every one of us they could find from existence. In the book, we were also referred to as reapers, but it wasn’t clear why.

The book itself wasn’t particularly long, but it detailed a maternally-passed-on affinity that was so terrifying to the magical

community that in the late 1800s they tested every witch and destroyed the ones who were reapers. Then they cast a spell to

wipe them from the memories of every other magical being.

But a few survived.

A few like my gran, who smuggled these books with them so they could let their daughters know what to expect. Only select

witches inherited the gene. Neither of my sisters had or my mom—but I did. Mom had come for me that night after reading the

letters Gran left her, letters she’d ignored for decades, only to feel the pull to read them that night. She’d felt my explosion

of magic as well, the way a mother had a sixth sense when their children were in danger.

Gran had stepped in.

I knew it with every part of the magical essence inside me.

Are you a reaper? I’d asked Mom the next morning, and she shook her head.

I’m not a reaper, she’d whispered, face wreathed in anguish. It was clear she’d slept as little as me. I know you’re wondering if one of these monsters destroyed Logan’s mom, and I wish I could tell you it wasn’t, but I truly

don’t know what happened that day.

I couldn’t get more information out of her, and now we were silent strangers in a house filled with tension.

“So, what’s the plan?” Sara asked as she leaned back in the uncomfortable vinyl chairs, which creaked every time one of us shifted.

“How are you going to learn about your magic if you can’t use it?

Have you heard from Logan? He’s clearly kept your secret, since the council isn’t smashing your door down. He might be a good one to help us.”

Logan Kingston. The spellcaster who was one of the most powerful warlocks in the world. His deep rumbling voice was never far from my mind . . .

Paisley belongs to me. You know that, and I’ll kill anyone that takes her from me.

I’d asked Mom what he meant by that statement he’d made in the graveyard, and she’d waved me off. He’s acted as if he’s had a claim on you since you were born. You should stay away from him. The last thing you need is to

get attached to Rafael’s son.

It was excellent advice, and there was no fucking way I was taking it. My fascination with Logan wasn’t going anywhere. If anything, it was stronger than ever. He owed me answers. I would not

rest until I had them.

“Not a single word,” I said with a huff. “Bastard claimed me and then ghosted.”

It was Logan’s modus operandi, so why it pissed me off so much was anyone’s guess. To be fair, though, he had said he’d give

Mom one month before he came for me. A timeline that ended tonight.

As Eighties Night started to wrap up, the lights grew brighter and it was time to start packing up. That part they wouldn’t

let me skip. “Let me clean up and clock out so we can get out of here. Mom said it was fine for you to take the spare room.

Fair warning, it’s no bigger than a closet.”

Sara waved me off. “I’d sleep on the floor if it meant hanging with you, girl. Do your job. I’ll wait here.”

The relief at having my friend back, and the fact she hadn’t run screaming from me when I confessed that I was responsible for the monsters who’d roamed Weatherstone last year, put extra pep in my step.

I rushed through the last of the closing duties, zeroed out the cash register, and waved to James, my manager, as I walked out the door with Sara.

“Come on,” I said, heading for my Jeep Wrangler. Well, Mom’s Jeep that she let me borrow for work. My phone buzzed in my pocket

as I pulled out of the rink’s lot and headed for home, but I ignored it and asked Sara about her time in Romania.

“I have forty-two cousins,” she said with a snort. “It was fucking chaos, even though I enjoyed catching up with them all.

My Romanian is rusty though. They kept laughing at my accent.”

By the time we got home, it was after midnight, and I was wrecked. Sara got settled in the guest room downstairs, and it was

only when I crawled into bed after a quick shower that I remembered the buzz of my phone earlier.

Hoping like Hel it was Belle, I swiped the screen and tiredly squinted at the message.

Unknown number: Nice skating tonight, Precious.

Every iota of sleepiness fled my body as I tightened my hold on my phone, staring at the screen. Had Logan been at the rink

tonight?