It's hard being the most powerful witch on the planet. It's even harder when you're a twenty-five year old virgin who'll lose all of that power the moment you sleep with someone ... that's why Elena's never slept with her best friend and flatmate, Karl, despite the true feelings they harbour for each other.
Elena's about to discover that there are even more difficult things in life to deal with. One of them comes in the form of a pen she discovers one day, a pen that allows anything she writes to come to pass...
Suddenly, it's not just her powers or her heart that's at stake but her very soul, as a dream demon with a seductive pull uses the pen to try and turn her away from her reality, and from Karl.
But the pen is just the beginning. Everything Elena has believed in is a lie, and her world is about to fall apart...
Read Reviews:
by Bookaholics Book Club
by Romance Novel Junkies
by Bitten By Paranormal Romance
by author, Bonnie Lamer
by Urban Fantasy Reviews
by What Book Is That?
Theme song for book one:
I did not make this video - I am sharing it from YouTube.
Read the whole of chapter one below:
Chapter One
“Feeeel everything around you
… go into it … become one with it...”
It was at these
moments Elena had to try really hard to feign interest. It wasn't
Amy's fault. Amy was just … well, she was Amy, and this was a Wicca
group.
Yeah, everyone's
a Wiccan.
Except Elena. Elena
was not a Wiccan, but she couldn't tell anyone what she really was: a
thirteenth generation witch. Her lineage granted her powers that
other fellow witches, whether Wiccan or not, did not have – Elena
was the real deal. For the hundredth time, she had to remind herself
that the reason she came to these sessions was to connect with
others, to make friends. The fact that she already knew how to do
what Amy was trying to teach (and knew how to do it using actual
magic) was completely beside the point. Elena, although mostly happy
with her own company, occasionally felt alone – too alone and too
different.
Closing her eyes
and trying hard to go with it, Elena let herself feeeel her
surroundings. It was like slipping into a warm favourite coat and it
came far too easily to her.
Elena, hold back
– don't get carried away. It was her own voice of reason saving
her. No one needs to see what happens to you when you lose
yourself in meditation...
At that thankful
moment, Amy's stopwatch beeped.
“Okay everyone –
great session today. Don't forget your glamour spells for next week,”
she called out as people filed out the door and others hung back in
the hope of gaining advice, maybe praise, from the group leader. They
were all of mixed ages, anything from eighteen to sixty.
“Elena, can I
have a quick word with you?”
Oh crap, not
good...
Elena always tried
very hard to stay out of everyone's way, she tried especially hard
not to engage in conversation with anyone. It wasn't that she
disliked people, but people invariably ended up disliking her … or
at least afraid of her. But she knew that her distance wasn't helping
her cause to make friends and curb her loneliness, so instead, she
put on her best I'm-one-of-the-crowd-voice, and said, “Sure.”
“Elena, you've
been coming here for three months now and you haven't led a session
yet. I think you should, or at least think about it.”
“Sure,” she
said again. No way – unless you're all prepared to see me
floating off the ground and accept it as reality.
“Okay … well,
how about next week? It's the full moon – you could lead the
glamour session.”
“Er—”
“Great! That's
settled.” Amy beamed a smile through her immaculate, white teeth
that left no room for compromise, and swiftly turned away from her to
talk to her avid followers.
She had tried
really hard to like Amy, but no matter which way she looked at it,
she couldn't help but think of her as fake. Not a fake witch – no,
Amy exuded magic – more like a fake human being. She feigned
compassion, Elena was sure of it.
With a slight
smile, she reached into her bag as soon as she was outside the
meeting room, and pulled out a pen. It was nothing special to look at
– a standard fountain pen, with a dark blue, metallic surround. She
could have bought it at the local newsagents, but she hadn't – no,
she'd found it in the middle of the suspension bridge that hung over
the river. She would never even have picked it up were it not for the
fact that at that second, she had been on the phone, with notepad in
one hand, needing to write down a name her mum was spelling out for
her. Her other hand had been rummaging around her rucksack for a pen
she didn't have … and then the sun had bounced off this one...
Knowing she really
shouldn't, but itching to let out some real magic, Elena pulled out
her notepad and started to write...
Suddenly
and completely out of the blue,
Amy
Langdon's skirt fell from her hips
and pooled
around her ankles.
From behind her,
back in the room she'd just walked out of, Amy let out a squeal of
horror as a few hushed giggles floated on the air.
“Okay, so I'm
officially a bad witch,” muttered Elena, “but that was so
much fun!”
~*~
The smell of roast pork greeted her as
she walked into her flat. Karl was cooking roast?
“Hey! I'm home!”
“In the
kitchen!”
“You're cooking
roast?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“It's Saturday.”
“So? Is Saturday
roast against the law?”
“No, it's just,
you don't cook roast – I cook roast. You cook cheese on toast.”
“Well, maybe
there are a few things you don't know about me,” he teased. “How
was your fake witch group?”
She groaned.
“Don't. Amy wants me to lead the session next week.”
Karl hooted his
laughter, which was met with a slap on the arm from Elena.
“Does she know
you'll scare away her little band of followers if you're allowed to
do such a thing?”
“No. I don't
know how to get out of it. It's crazy – I'm twenty-five years old,
and yet the woman reduced me to feeling like a clumsy, mute
teenager.”
“Just magic your
way out of it.”
“Not
something I want to resort to. Come on, you know the rules.”
“Rules are there
to be broken.”
“Hmm – spoken
like a true non-thirteenth generation witch.”
“Well, if you'd
do me the honour of making mad, passionate love to me, I'd be a witch
just like you.”
Elena sighed. Of
course this wouldn't be the last time they had this conversation.
Elena had known
Karl, “the boy from across the street”, since she was five and he
was seven. By his declaration, he'd been in love with her ever since
he was ten years old and saw her bring a butterfly back from the
dead, an act which had shocked her mother into an eerie silence.
Elena had never reciprocated his love – at least, she didn't think
she loved him. Loved him as a best friend, undoubtedly, but not in
love with him. It was in fact possible, that by the sheer
impossibility of her ever being able to be with anyone at all, she'd
simply denied any feelings she may have had – after all, that was
better than admitting the truth. The truth would lead only to grief.
“You don't want
me, you just want my powers.” She knew she shouldn't play this
game, but she desperately wanted to make light of the situation. Karl
was the least power-hungry person she knew.
“Yep, okay,
yes, you win – I want your powers, you're absolutely right … now
give them to me!”
She squealed, half
in frustration and half in delight, as he catapulted her over his
shoulder and ran for the living room couch.
“Put me down!”
“Not until you
submit, woman!”
“Never! Never,
never, never!”
Regardless, he
still dropped her onto the couch. She was not a large woman, but she
was taller than average, with Karl only half a head taller than her.
“You out of
breath?”
“You kidding me?
You're a waif.” He knelt on the floor and laid his head on her lap.
“Elena?”
“Yes?”
“What are your
plans for the future?”
A silence filled
the air, growing heavier with every heartbeat.
“Aren't you
going to burn the pork?”
“It's on a
timer. And don't change the subject. I know you don't want to talk
about me, or us, but there's still you. What are you going to
do?”
“Karl...” She
really didn't want to talk about this.
“You're a
twenty-five year old virgin.”
“Hey!”
“Hey yourself –
it's true. I know it's not your fault, but … is that it? You're
never going to give yourself to anyone because of a condition?”
“My lineage is
not a condition.”
“It is if it
means you can never have sex … or never show your love to someone.”
“And you're
hoping that someone is you, right?” It was a bit of a sneer and she
knew she was hitting below the belt, but her irritability levels had
shot right up since he'd mentioned the V-word. Yes, she was a virgin.
She had no choice in the matter. If she decided to sleep with
someone...
“I'm hoping you
end up happily married to the man of your dreams and have a hoard of
beautiful kids that'll keep you on your toes by turning your
neighbours into various types of pond-life.” He then shot her his
signature grin. “But if it happens to be me, then I wouldn't say
no.”
His grin was truly
infectious. As a boy, it was the first thing she'd noticed about him
– that grin had gotten them both out of trouble on many occasions –
and it was framed by a face that had never lost its boyish looks,
from the dimples in his cheeks, to his unkempt, sandy blond hair and
his sea blue eyes. He was your typical boy next door – the one your
mum would want you to marry, unless, of course, you were Elena's mum.
Never the social butterfly, Katherine Green, Elena's mother, had
never taken to any boy that Elena had found remotely interesting.
When she was fifteen, Elena had begun to talk about Karl more –
maybe she'd given away something in her eyes, because that was when
Katherine had sat her down and told her the awful truth of her
magical inheritance...
“I need to talk to you, Elena,
about sex.”
“Eeew, Mum—”
“No
interruptions, please. I've been dreading this day...” Her mother
sat down next to her at the breakfast table and took her hand. “Elena
… you're special. Being the thirteenth in our family line makes
you special … with that comes certain responsibilities.”
Elena rolled
her eyes. “Mum, I know about condoms and stuff.”
“Well you
don't know about this … you can't ever be in a
relationship.”
“What?”
“Sex is a
powerful thing for any witch, just like a first bleed is, but for
you, it's ten times more potent.”
She remembered
her first period. She'd been thirteen and the moment she'd felt that
first trickle down her inner-thigh, unearthly storm clouds had drawn
in and the sky had been torn apart by thunder – an “April shower
of unexpectedly large proportions” is how it was reported on the
news, but she had known otherwise. That tingle at the back of her
neck always told her when something magical was afoot. The next two
weeks had seen her fending off men – all men and any man –
apparently she'd become some kind of “fuck me” beacon, wafting
magical pheromones all over the place. The only person who'd seemed
completely oblivious to her change was Karl. It had crossed her mind
that maybe he was gay.
Thankfully the
whole ordeal had lasted for just her first cycle, with no other
problems in subsequent months.
“Elena,”
her mother squeezed her hand, drawing her back to the present. “If
you have sex, you'll be giving away your power – literally. The man
you sleep with will take on your magic and you will be left barren of
it. You will no longer have any powers and you will never be able to
get them back.”
“It's sort of like, when Arwen in
Lord Of The Rings gives up her immortality to be with the man
she loves...” She looked down at Karl. His grin was gone.
“You're a
beautiful person, Elena, and you deserve a man you love. It may be
worth considering giving up your witchcraft for a lifetime of
happiness … for a future family.”
“You think I
haven't considered it?” she smiled, sadly. “To lead a normal life
… and then I think about someone else having this magic inside them
and what a huge responsibility it would be. I grew up with it – I
was prepared for it – someone else … how would they wield all
this power? I barely can. There are rules they'd have to follow,
entire scripts they'd have to learn … I'd be changing them forever;
Karl, I'd be tearing their lives apart. How can I do that to someone
… how could I do that to you?”
She hadn't meant to
cry, but there they were, those tiny, salty rivers carving their way
down her face.
Karl kissed her
knee. His hands were rubbing her thighs in comfort and not for the
first time, she cursed her life – cursed that she couldn't just sit
back and give into this, relax into another man's affections.
“You shouldn't do
this to yourself,” she whispered, tasting her tears on her lips
now. “I don't know how you can stand it, being around me all the
time, knowing how you feel about me, knowing what you can never
have...”
“Ssshhh, baby,
it's all right.” He got up, shuffled onto the sofa beside her and
draped her legs over his lap. “I know you, Elena – better than
anyone. I know what you can and can't do, in every area of your life.
I know you suck at gardening—”
She snorted.
“But if you ever
decide that you've had enough, that you no longer want your magical
nature, I'm here. I've seen what your powers can do, hell, I've even
helped you with a few spells – you can trust me with them.”
She studied him,
letting herself drown in the blue of his eyes, something she almost
never did, ever since her mother had had the sex talk with her. He
really was beautiful. She found herself reaching out and stroking his
cheek.
“Are you gay?”
“What? Gay?”
His confusion
quickly turned to irritation – he actually looked a little pissed
off. Elena tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle at his expression.
It wasn't often that Karl was caught off guard.
Catching her eye
again, he raised an eyebrow. “You think I'm gay?”
“I wondered just
once, a long time ago—”
He grabbed her hips
and pulled her down onto her back. His grin turned wicked as he
pinned her to the sofa with the weight of his body. Her laughter died
in her throat and for a moment, there was only Karl, his eyes dancing
like the waves of the sea, his hair the colour of a golden beach. His
nose brushed hers, her lips parted, he leaned down—
Beep … beep …
beeeeeeeeeep.
They froze, then
Karl winked – the moment was gone.
“Pork's done.”
~*~
Down on the street below, a shadow
solidified. It took on the shape of a man, tall and muscular. But he
was not a man. His cracked face, grey and hard like stone was turned
towards a window two storeys up, his eyes – the clearest green
you'll ever see – completely focused on the activities on the other
side of the window.
If his solid body
could grow harder still, it did. Rage shone in his emerald eyes.
How dare he –
how dare he touch what's mine.
Somewhere, a dog
barked. He silenced it with his mind, his thoughts strangling the
animal until only a pitiful whimper travelled the air. There – he
felt better now.
His body began to
fade away once more. He could never stay in this world for too long
at a time, but before he became one with the shadows again, he
breathed out a tiny word, making sure it clung to the air as the
breeze carried it to the window that shielded him from the witch –
his witch...
“Elena...”
