The Discovered Read online

  Steph, Rena, and Nick’s shocked and fearful faces overwhelmed my mind’s eye. I let a tear slide down my cheek, where it was swept away by a stream of water from the showerhead. Daelon was right. I couldn’t go back. I didn’t know when—or even if—I would see my friends again. Through the waves of grief, of which I was well familiar… there was something else, lurking, like a sliver of light through a long tunnel or a line of dominoes lying in wait. It was a feeling I couldn’t put into words.

  As reluctant as I was to have anything to do with the realm of the people who murdered my mothers, I knew in my heart that my return was as inevitable as the sunrise. Not only did energy of this world seem more natural to me than the denser, colder flow on earth, but I also remembered my mothers’ words: One day you will return home and learn of who you are.

  Who was I? Daelon seemed to think I was one of the most powerful witches in the realm, and the ebb and flow of energy all around me seemed to suggest that he was right. It was as if I were tuned into a million different frequencies, and they all yearned to be broadcast at my will and direction.

  I turned over a palm, glancing at my slender fingers as they pulsated with electricity. Never in my life had I felt so alive—like I’d been living in a world without color since my mothers’ deaths. It felt wrong to think, but this newfound vitality shone much brighter than the deep wells of grief.

  No matter his true intentions, I could at least use Daelon as a way to learn about my power and the landscape of the witch realm. Because if I had to be in Aradia, with this uncontrollable, accursed power, the least I could do was use it to avenge my mothers. I took a breath, a certain determination bleeding from the cracks of my disorientation and sadness. Someone—or something—had now stolen two lives from me. Two sets of families. And that couldn’t go unpunished. This was what my mothers wanted. It had to be.

  After I was finished, I carefully stood up and turned off the water. The floor was slick. I wasn’t in the mood to fall again after the other night, so I let out a breath and sucked up my pride. “Daelon,” I called.

  “Yes, little witch?”

  I scrunched up my nose at this new nickname. He was awfully brazen for someone who knew what I was capable of.

  “I need your help. Eyes closed. And don’t call me that,” I snapped.

  He laughed lightly. My heart fluttered when he turned and strode toward me with his eyes shut tight. He handed me a towel, which I quickly wrapped and secured around myself before clinging to his arm once more. I rose to my feet, cursing as I slipped on the slick floor and tumbled into him.

  He caught and steadied me. “Can I open my eyes now?”

  “I suppose,” I sighed, eyeing him defensively.

  “Hold onto your towel,” he ordered, and I gasped as he lifted me into his arms bridal style.

  “Hey!” My cheeks heated up, and I focused all my strength not to lose control of my power. I couldn’t very well unleash it on the man who was holding me above the hard floor. I glared up at him instead. “Put me down,” I growled, squirming in his arms.

  He just shook his head, the corners of his lips turning down. “You’re very demanding.” He set me down on the edge of the bed. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “Demanding?” I repeated incredulously. “You’re the one who just manhandled me.”

  “That’s one interpretation,” he muttered, and the look on his face appeared a little too scolding for my taste. He opened up an intricately carved wooden wardrobe, his back to me. “What dress would you like to wear?”

  “Oh, I get a choice?” I said sarcastically.

  He smiled to himself, like he told a joke that I wasn’t privy to. He flipped through the articles of clothing lining the hangers.

  “A dress would be easier to put on and take off yourself, wouldn’t you say?”

  I was silent, still reeling from his off-putting, domineering attitude. This ankle needed to heal as soon as possible, and then I would reconsider shacking up with a mysterious stranger. At least there was a perk to being some kind of ultra-powerful witch.

  “Wait, how’d you get all of my stuff?” I asked, peering over at the familiar dress he was currently inspecting. I’d worn that one to my college graduation.

  “Magick.”

  I sighed. “The gray T-shirt dress will be fine,” I conceded.

  Daelon regarded it disapprovingly before handing it to me. “Not the one I would’ve picked.”

  I quirked a brow. Weirdo. He moved to the dresser, grabbing a black lace thong and simple nude bra from the top drawer. I glared at him in a stunned silence, anger bubbling up at the intrusion. That seemed very, very unnecessary. He tossed them onto the bed with a purely stoic expression and then exited the room, softly closing the door behind him.

  Daelon helped me sit down at a sleek, gray wooden table in the kitchen. As I took in my surroundings, I had to admit; wherever the hell I was, it was impeccably decorated and designed. The modern, black and gray kitchen bled into the chic and comfortable, yet slightly rustic living room, separated by the dining table at which I sat. The rug beneath me was white and soft under my bare toes, contrasting with the dark, hardwood floors. Opposite the kitchen to my right, two tall windows stretched floor-to-ceiling. The scenery outside—tall evergreen trees, mountains off into the distance, and the sun disappearing below the horizon—didn’t seem at all otherworldly.

  “This is your house?” I asked, unable to keep the awe out of my voice. If I was being held captive, at least it was in style, right? I watched Daelon move around the kitchen gracefully, pulling out various utensils and produce. He had all but dragged me out of my room to eat and to stop pouting. Which hardly seemed fair considering I was just forcefully dragged into a dimension I hadn’t been to since I was in the womb. A little pouting was surely in order.

  He glanced around nonchalantly and shrugged. “Suppose it is quite nice, isn’t it?” he murmured.

  That didn’t answer my question.

  “Are you okay with pasta?”

  “Sure,” I said. I fidgeted with my fingers, inspecting the painting across from me of an ocean with multi-colored sand and clear water. “It’s a real place?” I wondered aloud, remembering the beaches my mothers told me about as a child.

  More memory fragments swam to the surface like hauntings, coalescing into the scene of that primordial trauma. My mothers chanted power into my silver bracelet, and the door swung open—

  “Áine!”

  I snapped out of my daze to see flames leaping up from the stove in front of a very shocked Daelon. He set down the tray of chopped vegetables he was holding on the white marble island and strode to me.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, bending down to stare into my eyes. “Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Think of any time, place, or person that has made you feel calm. You need to get yourself on that frequency. You’ve felt that kind of peace with your clairsentience. Tap into it.”

  I swallowed, shutting my eyes and listening to him without protest. I combed through my memories, reaching out for the ones that felt serene. Visions flitted across my mind’s eye, some personal to me and some that felt more universal. Steph knitting on the sofa, a warm cup of tea, my mothers singing, light touches from a lover on my bare skin—

  “Good,” Daelon said. “Keep your eyes closed.” He tentatively touched my hand, pulling back when I flinched. “Sorry.”

  I had only flinched out of surprise, but I didn’t say anything.

  “Describe what you’re feeling now. The frequency. How does it taste, smell, or look to you?”

  I furrowed my brow, letting imagery pass through like a montage. Its energy traveled down the length of my body in waves.

  “Like warmth,” I said. “Shivers down the spine. Soft sweaters and blankets. The light of golden hour. Chamomile, pastels, ocean waves. The security of a mother’s love. Like belonging.” My voice faltered. I opened my eyes and looked away, flushed with embarrassment. Tapping into this energy with
Daelon—this stranger—felt intimate. It was also a rush, but a softer, more controllable form of power than the other bursts I’d felt while angry, scared, or overwhelmed. It was like I was in tune with a current that ran through the entire universe.

  A look resembling awe, or maybe just shock, brushed over Daelon’s features. He cocked his head, studying me for a few long seconds before clearing his throat.

  “Now let’s see if you can use that energy for something more constructive, rather than a knee jerk reaction from free-channeling at the whims of your emotions.” He offered me his arm and led me to the kitchen, the stove now bereft of angry, spitting flames.

  I took a deep breath, holding on to the pleasure of this so-called frequency. As wary as I was to dig into the power that my mothers feared—the power that for some reason made me and my loved ones so vulnerable to attack—I felt nearly giddy to wield the magick I felt now. Here in this place, it felt right. Like it was always meant to be.

  And like Daelon said, it was different than what coursed through me when I was backed into a corner. It filled a hollowness inside me I’d spent many years in the human realm ignoring and suppressing. I knew at its core that this energy was good in the truest sense of the word. It was transcendent and… connective. I sensed my mothers in this power.

  I smiled, maybe for the first time since I woke up in this foreign realm.

  Daelon’s eyes lit up, the corners of his mouth tipping upward. “I think we’re making progress already, little witch.”

  I feigned annoyance and scrunched my nose. “Whatever,” I said.

  He gestured to a pale purple candle on the kitchen island.

  “Let’s see if you can channel just a touch of this energy to light this candle. Emphasis on just a touch. I quite like this house, as do you, it would seem.” He narrowed his eyes at me, and I tried not to let his scolding tone mess with my buzz. “For all intentional magick, from the casual and small-scale to the more laborious spells and rituals, it’s best to visualize your intent as if it’s already occurred. You need to believe the candle is already lit, not that it will become lit. That’s where the true power lies.”

  I concentrated on the tingling in my skin, gathering it in the tips of my fingers to focus my intention. It was like I already knew on some level how to do this—and to do so much more. I followed this mental roadmap of instinct as I gathered up the energy I had channeled, calling on visions of fire in particular. I tried to be careful not to let too much rush out at once, but the power was harder to control than I thought as I let some pass through my fingers.

  I grinned. Sure enough, a flame encircled the candle’s wick and flickered wildly.

  Daelon sighed as light flowed in from the living room suddenly, a dull rumble of flames erupting. I peered over at the grand fireplace now alight, along with the line of tall white candles on the mantle above. The flames reached up emphatically.

  “Well, close enough,” he muttered, extinguishing the flames with a gesture.

  I couldn’t help the satisfied giggle that escaped my mouth. Daelon regarded me with bewilderment, as if surprised by the sound. He cocked his head ever so slightly, and the sudden intensity in his chiseled features made my stomach churn. I had to stop myself from getting lost in it.

  His eyes softened as I hobbled over to the bar stools behind the island, huffing when I realized they were too tall for me to climb without help. I was growing tired of this helplessness.

  Daelon let out a small breath and hoisted me up, his face frustratingly unreadable again. I tried to ignore the electricity of his hands on my waist.

  “Now that our impromptu training session is over, I’m going to need you to behave while I cook. Think happy thoughts,” he said. “You’ll need your strength to heal quicker.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, which he only met with an amused half-smile as he got back to cooking pasta. Funny that he thought he could talk to me this way when, from what I’ve gathered, I could destroy him with the flick of a wrist.

  Or could I?

  “Wait, you said you were a shield, and that’s why I can’t read your energy… so if I were to say, grow tired of you and want you to perish, would you be able to stop me?”

  Daelon paused for a moment and then laughed, nearly snorting. It was a laugh that made me want to laugh too, but I didn’t. It was fairly deflating that he didn’t even seem intimidated by my threats.

  “No,” Daelon finally said. “Rest assured that you have access to enough power to end me whenever you want. I’m just better trained than you, for now.” He turned from the stove to study my face, his eyes coaxing. His admittance reassured me. “You won’t ever need to test that out, though. Believe me when I say I have your best interests at heart. I’m here to help you.”

  “So you say,” I muttered. “Also, where exactly is Aradia? Like in relation to Earth? And how can we go between them?”

  “Full of questions, are we?”

  I scoffed. “How can I not be?” I had plenty more where those came from.

  Daelon dished up the now completed vegetable pasta wordlessly and slid the bowl in front of me. Staring down at the fusilli topped with tomatoes, onions, and fresh basil made my mouth water. I was suddenly aware of my ravenous hunger, lifting a forkful to my mouth self-consciously as Daelon stared.

  “Is it good?”

  “Yes,” I admitted, looking at him expectantly as he let my unanswered questions hang in the air between us.

  Daelon’s shoulders relaxed, seemingly satisfied. “Aradia isn’t exactly in a different place than Earth. It’s more like layers. They exist in the same space, at the same time, but the witch realm is on a higher frequency that humans simply can’t access. The human realm is made up of denser metaphysical matter than us. That’s why you probably feel like the energy of this world is lighter and more fluid. It’s where we belong and where we are most powerful. Witches have learned ways to go between, but it’s unnatural, and it requires a great deal of power.”

  I swallowed my mouthful of food and took a sip of water, still bursting with questions.

  Daelon ate standing up at the counter. He seemed to always be alert, scanning the room occasionally, as if looking for someone to appear out of thin air. The silence between us should have been awkward, but it wasn’t.

  I let my mind wander, stealing a glance at the painting to the right again, where the sand seemed to shimmer and glow in multifaceted iridescence. My mothers’ fairytales were coming to life before my eyes.

  “I can take you there sometime,” Daelon said quietly. “If you want.”

  I blinked out of my daze and turned my head to find Daelon staring intently at me. A flicker of vulnerability flashed in his eyes, but it was soon gone. I swallowed, surprised at the rush of emotions bubbling up. I felt closer to my mothers here in this place—more than I had in years.

  “Who am I? Why am I so powerful?” I asked quietly. I felt the pull of a rising tide, and shivers ran down the length of my spine. In my mind, faint voices joined in a song that rang painfully familiar. I braced myself, straining against the current of power threatening to overtake me.

  Daelon sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “You’re special, to put it mildly. I don’t know exactly why, but I know that you’re here to help the witches of this realm. I can just feel it—just as I know that I’m here to help you.”

  I heard my mothers’ voices echo in my mind as he spoke those words, telling me I was special and loved—so loved that people feared me—so loved that bad people were chasing us, unrelenting, until they burst into our home and—

  “Hey, deep breaths,” Daelon said. He reached out for the hand I was balling into a fist so tightly that my knuckles were white, but he stopped, seeming to remember my reaction to him touching me before. The wind howled outside, and the candle’s flame in front of me grew taller and violent.

  I relaxed my fist and took a deep breath, hesitating before slowly inching my hand closer to his in a silent granting
of permission. He looked at me then closed the gap, placing his hand over mine and giving me a slight squeeze. The shielded nature of his energy was soothing, and it distracted me from my traumatic flashbacks and ruminations. Its stability was a comfort to the turbulent nature of my own.

  “I will never lie to you, Áine. There is a lot you need to understand about this realm and the darkness that has overtaken it, but right now you’re completely untrained, uncontrolled, and unpredictable. I need to focus on teaching you how to control and harness this power before all else. Otherwise, your emotions will let the power consume you,” Daelon explained, his hand still on mine.

  I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to admit it. I knew that there was a terrifying amount of power available to me, and I sensed that it was completely dependent on my emotionality. I couldn’t avenge my mothers without some semblance of control.

  However, Daelon’s arrogance in acting like I couldn’t handle something when he didn’t even know me was frustrating.

  He’d now spoken both of common enemies and a darkness that had overtaken the realm, which meant he might know exactly who had been responsible for my mothers’ constant fear and eventual murder.

  “Fine,” I said finally, pulling my hand away from his. “We’ll do this your way.” I paused, narrowing my eyes to indicate I wasn’t just merely falling in line. “For now.”

  Daelon chuckled, yet again infuriatingly unaffected by my intimidation attempts. He looked bemused, but his lips tilted upward. “Are you threatening me?”