The Discovered Page 2

  You need to run now, the male voice said again.

  I lifted myself off the ground with my good hand, ignoring the police officer reaching out to me in protest. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to stay seated.”

  “Don’t touch me,” I yelped, adrenaline—and something far more potent—coursing through my veins. Sparks flew from the streetlamp above, making everyone jump back. I met each of my friends’ eyes before brushing dirt and debris from my suddenly far too revealing red dress.

  “I love you guys.” My voice caught in my throat. There was nothing else I could say to explain to them why I needed to go. I didn’t have enough time, and I refused to say goodbye. I didn’t want this to be goodbye.

  I took off running as my friends called out after me, and for some reason the police officer decided to follow—his heavy stride pounding on the pavement in unison with my labored breaths.

  “Fuck!” I muttered, my feet aching as I registered how impractical my high heels had become. He was going to catch up to me.

  I shot a confused look back at the slightly overweight officer on my tail, then threw up my unburned hand and shot a bolt of energy back at him on instinct. I needed him to stop.

  He grinned at me, and with a flick of his wrist he seemed to deflect the shot into a nearby car, shattering its windshield. I gulped. This was no cop, and I had absolutely no idea how to use my newly regained power.

  It only took that one second of inattention toward the ground in front of me for my heel to catch in a dip in the pavement, sending me tumbling. A shot of pain erupted from my ankle, and I heard some kind of popping sound. I cried out, catching myself on my forearms so I didn’t break a wrist too. The pain from my blistered wrist hitting the hard cement was nearly unbearable, causing my tears to overflow.

  The man came to a halt in front of me, his police uniform dissolving from him like a cloud of mist to reveal jeans and a plain black T-shirt. His face and body thinned out, and hair grew where he was once bald. I gasped at the emptiness of his icy, dark energy as it sent off a cacophony of warning bells through my system.

  “You feel… evil.” I let his aura snap back to him. I wanted nothing to do with it.

  He knelt down beside me, feigning shock. “Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?” He now spoke with an accent similar to a heavy Southern drawl.

  I attempted to crawl away from him, but he grabbed my injured ankle. I screamed, helpless and unable to keep more tears from streaming down my face. His grip tightened, and he closed his eyes. From his palm came a horrible pulling sensation against my skin, and soon a look of pure bliss washed over his features.

  He let out a gasp, his eyes fluttering open. “I’ve never felt anything like that. You’re the one they’ve been looking for, aren’t you?”

  I could hardly focus on his confusing words as unconsciousness threatened again. As my vision drifted in and out of focus, another man appeared from behind my attacker. His face was strong and angular, with steady brown eyes, and his dark hair had a slight wave to it. He swiftly locked his arms around the assailant’s neck and pulled him away from me.

  As he did, my head fell back onto the sidewalk, the pain from my injuries and sudden exhaustion overwhelming me. Lying there, I listened to the sound of muffled pleading, grunting, and then quiet.

  “Nice dress,” a familiar voice purred as I felt my body being lifted into the air. It was the same voice that had told me to run. “Sleep now.” Fingers brushed over my eyelids and the world went dark once again.

  Chapter 2

  When I was a young child, my mothers told me bedtime stories about the place they came from—a place filled with magick and wonder, where the colors were brighter, the trees were taller, and the people were kinder. They said there were beaches with sand made of shimmering crystals and water clearer than translucent glass. They told me I was a gift from the Goddess herself, and it was out of unconditional love and devotion that I grew in Momma Celeste’s belly.

  “You were so loved that people feared you,” Momma Jane whispered, stroking my deep copper locks of hair. “We had to take you away to keep you safe.”

  “But one day,” Momma Celeste whispered as a tear escaped her eye.

  “A very long time from now,” Momma Jane cut in. “When you are ready…”

  “You will go back home and learn of who you are.”

  I dreamt of them nearly every night. Whether it was the soft, delicate contours of their faces as they sang to me in the garden, or their frenzied panic as they chanted words in an ancient tongue, tracing shapes on my wrist where the silver band rested, when the front door to our cottage flew open and—

  I awoke in a cold sweat, sitting up quickly. I shuddered as I looked around at unfamiliar surroundings. I was in a bed with unbelievably soft sheets. I quickly looked down and saw I was still in the red dress that now clung to my damp skin. The walls were grayish purple, with a white bedside table and a dimmed lamp. The bedroom was lavish yet also looked barely lived in, with very few markers of personalization. It was far bigger than my bedroom in New York.

  I jumped when a tall figure appeared in the doorway, but as I shifted to get up, a searing pain in my ankle reminded me of my injury. I winced as I began to recollect all of the very strange events that took place on my twenty-second birthday.

  The man who saved me—whose voice told me to run after I destroyed my source of protection—approached me cautiously, his face pensive but relaxed. He appeared to be in his late twenties, an athletic build with striking features that seemed carefully controlled.

  I was able to hoist myself up to rest against the headboard, reaching an outstretched palm in the space between us. My power curled around me, like a snake poised to lash out and bite hard.

  He raised a brow but stopped his approach. “I’m not going to hurt you. I think you’d know by now if that was my intention.”

  “Who are you and where are we?” I cleared the hoarseness out of my voice as I assessed his every movement, from the way his fingers unclenched at his sides to his long exhale.

  “My name is Daelon. We’re in Aradia—the witch realm—in a remote cabin where you will be safe. You were asleep for about a day after we made the jump, I suspect because you weren’t used to channeling that kind of power.”

  “The witch realm,” I repeated dumbly. So it was all true. All of those stories my mothers told of the land from which they’d escaped came flooding back to me. They were fragmented into bits and pieces, scattered by the trauma of their deaths and time long passed. I was only a child then, and after so many years living a relatively normal human existence, they felt more like a mélange of dreams and mythic bedtime tales than reality.

  Not to mention, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with the realm my mothers’ murderers came from. Or the power I’d held inside me that led them to us.

  It had all been my fault.

  The deep, dark wound opened up and festered, and like a great tide, my power began to flood. The lamp beside us shook, and heavy rain began to pour and batter against the windows.

  Daelon watched me carefully. “Breathe,” he said. “Give me a deep breath in and out.”

  His tone was commanding enough to earn my narrowed gaze. I still had no idea who he was or what he wanted, and as I reached out to his energy, I realized there was nothing to feel. His aura was like a solid brick wall of impenetrability. In my moment of distraction, the furniture settled and stilled.

  “Why can’t I—feel you?” I stuttered.

  He raised his brows again, an amused grin taking shape. “Maybe buy me dinner first,” he said.

  I crossed my arms. “Your energy. Aura. Soul. Whatever you want to call it.”

  “You’re an energy reader,” he said, somewhere between a statement and a question. “Interesting.”

  “Well?”

  “That’s your gift, and mine is that I’m a shield. I can mask energy, power, and spells, and I’m more in tune with defensive magick. That’s why
you’re safe here. Witches like the one who attacked you, energy vampires, will be drawn to the enormity of your power like moths to a flame. And your flame burns much, much brighter than most.”

  I mulled over his words, looking through the windows to the rainy forest landscape below. Not being able to read him was going to be a problem. It was like losing one of my senses, leaving me vulnerable and shrouded in darkness.

  “Well, then how am I supposed to trust you?”

  He snorted, and the dirty look I gave him only seemed to make him more amused. “Maybe by judging my words and actions like everyone else?”

  Yeah, I wasn’t so sure about that.

  “Can I get more of an explanation on whatever the hell energy vampires are and why they’re after me?”

  He leaned against the wall by the windows as he faced me, mirroring my crossed arms. A flicker of disgust rolled through his features. “Well, they’re not after you, specifically. They’re just after power, and you have a lot of it. They take from others as a way of life, living on the outskirts of society and getting high off the act of stealing energy. Or some seek to use others as kinds of power batteries, because they weren’t born with much ability for channeling themselves. So they steal. Some of them were banished to the human realm for their crimes, so they prey on human energy instead. They’re the scum of Aradia and Earth.” He spat out the last words like they were spoiled.

  I thought of my friends, and anger swelled in my chest. “What happens to the humans?”

  “Fatigue. Depression. Insanity. They grow weak. Or ill,” he said softly. “To witches it’s a grave violation. Syphoning away power and gifts without one’s consent. I’d imagine many would seek to use you as an infinite power battery. Or the greatest high of all time.”

  My heartrate picked up, the tightness in my chest growing heavier. How did I know that wasn’t what Daelon was doing?

  “Well, thank you for saving me. But I can’t be here. I don’t want to be here. I want to go back,” I said.

  My mothers died protecting me from this realm. I wanted nothing to do with it. I was an orphan from Northern Ireland who lived in New York City with my friends, my anthropology degree, freelance writing, and doing normal, human things. This power suddenly felt like a sickness, pressing up against me from all angles and squeezing the air from my lungs.

  Daelon walked closer, his hands raised in the air in a silent don’t shoot. Wind bore down on the cabin’s foundations, the furniture beginning its haunting rattle once more. My palms grew hot, begging for release as I struggled to gulp down air.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “I need you to listen to me.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, his features hardening into the air of someone with authority. Someone who knew all the answers. “I know you’re scared. But I will prove to you every day that you can trust me. You can’t go back. Going back now would only put you and everyone around you in grave danger. You belong here. I know you can feel it.”

  He was right. The energy of this realm was different—less stifling, less rigid—like it was where I was always meant to be. Like it was home. But I wasn’t ready to admit any of it.

  I also knew I didn’t want to put my friends in danger, which meant I was stuck here with a stranger in a realm I knew nothing about.

  Daelon’s unwavering gaze and steady, assured voice pulled back my focus, enough to halt the panic for the moment. “Right now, you’re free-channeling. Your power is bound up to your emotions, which makes you kind of a wild card. It will burn you up from the inside out. But if you learn to detach your power from your impulses, urges, and feelings, you can use and direct it exactly how you want. I can help you.”

  “Why? Why do you want to?” This power felt like a storm, and I was caught in the eye of its hellish cyclone. The idea of control didn’t sound too bad at the moment, but I couldn’t let go of the feeling that it was more curse than gift. It had only brought me pain.

  It stole away my parents and now it had taken away my chosen family of friends, too. A tsunami of grief began to build in the periphery, reminding me that I was alone, again—just like the day I arrived in America—and maybe this power would mean I would always be alone in the end.

  He sighed, his jaw tensing. “Because I think we have common enemies. And… it’s just something I was called to do. I heard your cry for help, and I came. I can’t explain it.”

  Can’t or won’t? Common enemies… the image of the cottage door blasting open—a recurring nightmare reconstructed from memory—was still fresh in my mind’s eye, along with the cacophony of screams that followed.

  I shifted positions, wincing and gritting my teeth as pain shot through my ankle.

  “I set a couple pills for the pain on your nightstand,” he said. A flash of anger flitted across his features as he inspected the blue and black bruises on my swollen skin. “They’re more magick than medicine. And you’ll heal much quicker than a human now that you’re connected back to so much power.”

  I glanced down at my once-scabbed wrist, marveling at the healing that had already taken place. Only a faint red line encircled my skin now. I grabbed the two blue pills on the wooden table, noting the mark of their energetic makeup, as if they had a slight aura of their own. The aura of painlessness. I took them with a gulp of the accompanying glass of water, and the relief was instant.

  Daelon and I stared at each other for a few long seconds.

  “Okay. I will stay here. For now. But I’m going to need a lot more answers, and if I find out you’re lying to me in any way, I will unleash this untrained witch curse on you so fast,” I warned.

  He blinked. “You think being one of the most powerful witches in the realm is a curse?” he asked incredulously, ignoring my threat. “We’ll have to work on that.”

  I pursed my lips. I wasn’t ready to talk about my mothers with this stranger. “I just want to take a shower.” As my power simmered down like the hiss of steam from an extinguished fire, all I could feel now was exhaustion. My mind raced, but my body was as heavy as lead.

  “There’s a bathroom attached to your room there.” He gestured to the double doors across from the bed. “But you need to stay off your ankle if you want it to heal right. Which means you need help. And I would be more than happy to oblige.”

  My stomach fluttered as his eyes moved from my ankle, up my body and back to my eyes. I might as well have been naked already given the state of my dress. I narrowed my eyes.

  “Áine,” he said. “Let me help you. I promise not to peek.” The faintest tinge of mischief clouded his eyes as he cocked his head.

  I let out a breath, the smirk he was biting back doing little to assuage my unease. It was hard not to get lost in his steady, controlled voice, which seemed to consistently teeter on the edge of commanding.

  I uncrossed my arms and shook my head. “Fine.” I paused. “How did you know my name?”

  “Sometimes, we witches just know things,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. “Come on, then, little witch.”

  I bristled at the patronizing pet name, but the tips of his mouth only shifted up. He rose, offering me his arm—taut muscles peeking out from beneath the black fabric of his T-shirt. I looked away quickly, grabbing ahold of him as he helped me to my feet.

  He led me into the spacious bathroom, which was white with gold accents and all kinds of elegant. A luxurious, free-standing bathtub sat against the far wall. The mirrors in the front were tall and meticulously clean, the counters a shimmering gold and white marble. A spacious shower with glass doors was in the right corner, with a detachable shower head and a shelf built into the wall at sitting height.

  “It’s nice, isn’t it?” he said softly.

  I nodded, assessing my best course of action as I leaned on him and hobbled to the shower.

  “I think I can take it from here,” I said curtly.

  He watched me for a few long seconds as I grabbed onto the towel rack for stability. He was so close I could smell the faintest woo
dsy, clean scent from his clothes, like fresh pine and soap.

  “Are you sure?” The half-smirk was back.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure.”

  He nodded, turning and moving to stand with his back to me at the front of the bathroom, leaning against the open doorway.

  “Maybe witch customs are different, but I prefer to shower in private,” I said, my eyes boring into the back of his head.

  “First of all, you are a witch. No amount of time with the humans could change that. Second, I don’t particularly trust you not to fall, and I’m not going to let you crack your skull open on my beautiful white marble floor. It would be terribly inconvenient to me.”

  I clenched and unclenched my fists, motionless until I finally decided this particular hill wouldn’t be the one I died on.

  “Fine. But any funny business and I will annihilate you.”

  Daelon laughed, and I was startled by the pleasant sound of it—nearly pulling an instinctive smile of my own to my lips. “I have no doubt.”

  I unzipped the side of my dress and pulled it up over my head, trying not to lose my shaky balance. I shimmied out of my panties and peeled off my adhesive bra. I cast glances to the double doors every once in a while, but Daelon stood motionless, eyes forward. I wished now more than ever I could break through his shield.

  I was surprised at how well the magick pills worked, coursing through my veins like a warm veil over my ankle’s throbbing. Medication on Earth never seemed to work right for me, which was just another reminder of just how much I didn’t belong.

  I stepped carefully into the shower and closed the glass door behind me. I balanced myself on the cool, white stone and grabbed the golden showerhead above me, facing it away from my body as I let the water warm. I cleared back the toiletries from the shelf and sat against it, sighing in relief as I was finally able to get clean.

  I stole a glance toward Daelon through the steamy glass. He still faced the bedroom, his arm outstretched to lean on the door frame. Despite my inability to use my clairsentience on his psyche, I couldn’t deny the calm and security his presence evoked. It was actually very soothing not to have an aura constantly reaching out to my line of perception. It was like he was surrounded by solid walls—a walking armory of security. I had no idea if I could trust this stranger, whose alleged abilities were conveniently exactly what I needed right now. Maybe he really was someone I could trust… or maybe it was all a mirage, a trick, or a trap.