Crave

Besides the fact that I seemed to have created a scary new fan club and my friends couldn’t stand it when I looked them in the eye? “Nope.”

“Okay. Well, I’d better go help your grandma get dinner ready. I’m glad you had a good day.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll be out in a minute.” My stomach, already knotted and rolling with acid, cramped at the idea of eating. Lying could make a really good diet plan for me, if it didn’t kill me first.

She left the room, shutting the door behind her, and I found I could suddenly breathe again.

Now all I had to do was pray that tomorrow would prove none of us had anything to worry about in the first place.

Tristan

I took a deep breath at his study door then knocked. “Come in,” Dad’s voice boomed out. Inside, I was surprised to find Emily already there. She gave him a hug.

“Thanks for listening, Daddy,” she said as she walked toward me and the door.

“Anytime, Princess,” he replied, a big smile barely visible beneath his bushy silver beard.

Huh? I searched Emily’s face, trying to figure out why she was here. She never came to Dad’s study, preferring to chat with him either at the dinner table or while they played golf together.

She gave me a sneaky two thumbs-up before she passed me and left the room. She was up to something. I’d have to trust that it was helpful somehow.

“Hello, son. Come and have a seat.” He sounded stern, his smile gone now.

Trying to act relaxed, I sat in one of the two leather chairs before his massive oak desk.

“Dressed for sports?” He loosened his tie and sat back down in his desk chair.

I glanced down at the hoodie and sweatpants I’d changed into. “Yeah, training practice.”

“Hmm. Yes. Well, that reminds me. I’m glad you came in here. I heard you had a bit of trouble today at school?”

My hands nearly clenched up before I could stop them. What had Emily told him? “Yeah, a little.”

“She also said you needed her help?”

Emily wouldn’t have ratted on me about our conversation in the car. Would she?

“I see.” He must have misunderstood my silence for an answer. “So the grounding training hasn’t helped?”

Oh. So Emily had told him about my power spikes instead. “Well, sort of. She told me how to ground by using a tree at school. And it helped.”

“Mmm-hmm. But it sounds like you still have a lot of excess energy?” He took another sip of his drink, picked up a letter on his desk and began to read it in silence.

I was losing his attention already. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, sir. I’ve still got a lot of energy sometimes, even with the grounding. And I was thinking today that maybe it keeps building up because I’m not putting it to good use.”

His sharp green eyes bored into me. He dropped the letter and set down his drink on his desk blotter, the dull thud loud in the too-quiet room. “Go on.”

Had I already messed up? “So I was thinking … maybe it’s time for me to really focus on my training. Emily said the powers won’t go away by ignoring them. But if I could learn how to use them—”

“Stop right there.”

Crap, I’d already screwed up somehow. I held my breath.

He rose from his chair and came around the desk toward me. “You’re saying that, after months of refusing to work on your training, now you’re ready to buckle down and learn?”

I cleared my throat, waited a beat, then nodded.

A slow smile spread across his face before he clapped a huge paw of a hand on my shoulder. “Well, all right, then, let’s get started! You’re already dressed for training. That’s good. Have you eaten? If you grounded at school today, you’re gonna need to fortify the body and fuel the energy, you know.”

I grinned with relief and rose to my feet. “Yeah, Dad. I just had a couple of sandwiches and some milk.”

“Good, good, good. Then let’s head to the backyard and get going. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

I glanced down at the slacks and dress shirt he still wore. “Uh, don’t you need to change?”

“Why waste time? I’ve got a million suits.”

As we stepped out the patio door to the backyard barely visible in the dusk, I took another chance. “Hey, Dad, do you think we could start with some self-defense training?”

“Problems at school?”

I forced a laugh. “Oh, you know, nothing a good right hook wouldn’t take care of. But you know Mom and how much she wants me to go to college.”

He chuckled. “I understand completely. Gotta go the subtle route this time, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, sure, we can start with some defensive training. Although if you ever get ready for a real fight …”

“You’ll be the first to know, Dad, I promise.”

“All right. Have a seat there on the grass while I pull up a chair.” He grabbed a wicker chair from the back patio, brought it onto the lawn and sat down, muttering, “Getting too old to sit on the ground.”

I sat in front of him, legs crossed kid-style as he’d taught me for grounding training even though it seemed stupid. I felt like a kindergartner getting ready for story time.

“Okay, so here’s the basics of casting a spell. Every witch starts off at the beginner level of spellcasting by saying a word and using a small hand gesture. This helps you focus and control when the spell is actually cast, until you learn how to discipline your mind. Someday, when you’re ready, I’ll teach you how to cast a spell even if you’re tied up with your mouth taped shut, just by thinking the word and using your willpower. Eventually you’ll learn to cast a spell even without a word at all, just by thinking about the results you want to create. Like you do when you create fire or ground your energy.”

As much as I hated magic, I had to admit, throwing a spell with just my mind would be kind of cool.

He continued. “The first thing you need to know is, when someone is coming at you, you’ve gotta react fast. So we’ll start with the word and hand gesture to cast a blocking spell. Just remember, though, no spell’s going to work until you really want it to.

“Now, are you feeling confident?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then stand up.” I obeyed.

“And come at me.”

“Sir?”

“Go on. Try to come at me like you’re gonna tackle me.”

I took two slow steps toward him. And found myself ten yards away, walking in the opposite direction, and a million tiny stabs of pain racing over my neck and arms.

I muttered a curse and shook my head, rubbing the sensation from my skin. Was this how all the descendants felt when a Coleman used magic near them? No wonder the descendants hated it when I had power spikes at school.

“See how it works?” he said as I walked back. “It just moves you away and turns you around. Really good for fighting in hard-to-see situations, because it can confuse your attacker and give you time to get away.”

I nodded and paid close attention as he taught me the word and wrist flick. But when I tried it for myself, nothing happened.

“Ah, but you’ve really got to want it to happen, son. Your will is the key to it all. Now try again. This time, I’ll come at you.”

He walked toward me. I said the word and performed the hand gesture. And … nothing.

He glared at me. “Tristan Glenn Coleman. You can do better than that. Boy, I’m gonna tan your backside if you don’t get it in gear!” He came at me, his long legs eating up the distance between us despite his huge gut. I’d never realized he could move that fast.

Fear rammed through me, making me feel like a little kid about to get a serious butt whipping. I whispered the spell. Then he was at the end of the backyard and facing the opposite direction.

“All right! You did it!” He walked toward me, beaming. “I thought I might have to give you some motivation there.”

He was faking it? “Well, it worked.” My laugh sounded shaky even to my own ears.

The garden lights kicked on, flooding the yard and reminding me that time was running out fast.

“Okay, what’s next?” I said.

“Whoa, slow down, Tristan. Don’t you think you ought to practice that one a few more times?”

I reached for the energy within. Closing my eyes, I mentally whispered the word to that energy. When I opened my eyes, I focused on Dad and visualized myself performing the wrist flick at him. He reappeared at the other end of the yard.

He strolled back, shaking his head. His eyes, green copies of mine but wrinkled at the corners, were wide beneath his thick eyebrows. “Wow, son. You didn’t even use the word or hand gesture!”

“I did, just in my mind instead.”

“Impressive. That’s not usually something we teach until the fourth or fifth year of training. Remember, though, you can use the silent casting method, but you’ve gotta be extra careful if you’re only considering casting the spell. You have to keep your will out of it. Otherwise as soon as you think of the spell, you’ll end up casting it. That’s why we usually start off with the verbal method first. It gives you better control.”

“I understand.”

He shook his head one more time then grinned at me. “Should’ve known my son would be more advanced at this stuff than normal.”

“Of course. I’m a Coleman, right?”

“Right!”

I smiled back at him, but guilt made it tough to pull off. He looked so proud of me, so happy that I’d decided to focus on my training. But the truth was I still wasn’t the slightest bit interested in leading the Clann someday like he wanted me to. I just needed a spell or two so I could help Savannah. Then I could go back to trying to be normal.

“Uh, Dad? Can we … “

“Right, right. Back to work. Okay, so what other defensive spells might be useful?”

I remembered Emily’s advice. “How about a memory confusion spell? You know, so I could block someone from messing with something.”

“Ah, yes. Emily likes to use that spell to get rid of punks who bug her too much.”

“How long would a spell like that last?”

“If your sister cast it, a couple days at best. She’s too softhearted to will anyone to stay away longer than that. If I made it …” His face darkened. “A few months. Maybe years.”

“And if I made one?”

“Thinking of Christmas presents for your sister already?”

I laughed with him. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, like I said, it would depend on how often the boy tried to go near her. And how much you wanted him to stay away. But for one of Emily’s normal punks, I’d say at least a month if you cast it.”

The Creepy Three seemed pretty obsessed today. They might wear out a spell quicker than one of Emily’s usual fans. Then again … I thought of how much I wanted them to leave Savannah alone. I bet I could make my spells last at least a couple months bare minimum. Maybe by then they would move on to someone else to obsess over.

“Okay, what do I do?”

He grinned at me. “Well, you know your sister. She hates to feel like she can’t handle her own problems. So it’s best if she doesn’t know what you’re doing.”

“So I’d need to know who the creeps are without asking her, then find objects to charm that she’d carry around without suspecting?”

“Exactly!”

That last part might be tough. What could I give Savannah that she would keep with her at all times and not suspect? She’d question anything I gave her.

Unless she didn’t know about it. Emily said I should put a small charm in Savannah’s backpack. Maybe I could manage to sneak something small in there without her noticing.

“Okay, what else do I have to do?”

He taught me what to say and how to tap a finger on the object to load it with the memory confusion spell. “Every time you tap it, you’ve got to sort of push your will into the object. Every push should equal one memory block.”

“Should?”

He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “Well, I’ve never been able to ask your sister or mother how many times certain people we know have started to approach them then ended up walking away confused.”

Ah. So he had been doing a little secret protection work of his own. Mom and Emily would go nuts if they ever learned what he had been up to. I grinned. “I see your point.”

“All right, let’s try it. I’ll turn my back, and you charm one of the lawn chairs. Then I’ll try to approach each one. That way when I get confused, you’ll know it really worked.”

“Sounds good.”

We practiced for a while to make sure I had the spell down. Then he had to call it a night. “Sorry, son, but I’m worn-out and have a board meeting early in the morning.”

“No problem, Dad. Mind if I stay out here and keep practicing awhile?” I held my breath, expecting him to say that I couldn’t keep casting without his supervision according to Clann rules.

Instead, he nodded and headed for the patio door. Then he hesitated and looked back. “You know, I really am proud of you today. Feels like I’m seeing my little boy becoming a man right in front of me.”

My throat suddenly tightened. I managed a nod.

“Let’s train again tomorrow night,” he suggested with a grin.

Before I could think it through, I found myself nodding in agreement. He was still grinning as he entered the house. Great. Now he probably thought I’d changed my mind about following in his footsteps for the Clann leadership. If so, I’d have to figure out a way to let him down gently. Later. Right now, I had some serious memory confusion to create.

CHAPTER 5

Tristan

I ran up to my room and looked around. What could I put the spells in? Pens? Pencils? Paper clips? Nah, Savannah was always loaning out stuff like that in algebra. Maybe Emily had something I could use.

I had a sudden image of my sister handing me tampons just to torture me, and shuddered. No, I’d better not ask Emily. I glanced at my bedside clock. Eight fifty-six. Not too late to call for some insider advice. I grabbed a telephone book and my cordless phone.

“Hello, may I speak with Anne, please?” I said when a woman answered.

“Who is calling?” It was probably Anne’s mother, who worked in the accounting department at Coleman BioMed, Dad’s company. Not good. If she mentioned to any coworkers that I was calling Savannah’s best friend at home …

Thinking fast, I replied, “Arthur.”

“Arthur, it’s a little late for phone calls.”

At eight fifty-seven? Now I knew where Anne got her personality from. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry for the late phone call, but it’s a math emergency.” That wasn’t too much of a stretch on the truth.

“One moment.”

I heard murmuring in the background. Then Anne picked up the phone. “Why, hello, Arthur. Having trouble with that warty little problem we ran into today?” Her voice dripped with smug satisfaction.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I am. I need to know what types of things S—I mean, your friend usually carries around in her backpack.” I barely stopped myself from saying Savannah’s name out loud. Knowing my parents, they’d probably put a spell on my room to warn them if I ever said her name again.

“What doesn’t she have in there? The girl never cleans anything. Not her backpack, not her locker, not even her bedroom. Every time I sleep over at her house, I end up spending half the time cleaning her room just so I have some space to breathe. Drives me crazy!”

I pictured lacy scraps of underwear and bras lying around a sleeping Savannah, and fought to exhale. “Uh, not to interrupt the venting here, but I could use your help now.”

“Ha! I knew you couldn’t handle it on your own.” She sighed. “All right, what do you want?”

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