Page 32 of Reckless Witch

Chapter Twelve

ETHAN

Moody Vampires

I reach Raith’s office to find him sitting behind his desk, cell phone pressed to his ear as if he hasn’t just practically challenged Ciarah to a death match.

I don’t wait for him to get off the phone. “What the hell was that all about?”

“We look forward to seeing you, Carter,” he says into the phone. “Someone just came in.” A pause. “Yeah, it’s Ethan. I’ll talk to you later.” Raith disconnects the call and places the phone on his desk. “That was Carter. He’ll be here for the War Games next week.”

“Forget Carter,” I snap.

“She’s out of control,” he replies before I can say more. His tone is colder than ice. A warning if ever I’ve heard one.

I stare. “What are you talking about?”

Raith isn’t one to give in easily. So, of course, he waits a long moment before saying, “You know it’s true. Her last few lifetimes, she’s become more and more volatile. Now she’s a street witch. She’s going to get herself killed, or worse, and take down others with her.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” I say.

He shakes his head. “It’s undeniable.”

“If you push her like this, she’ll let us strip her powers.”

His face remains an unreadable mask. “That’s the preferable solution.”

“What?” I can scarcely believe my ears. “She’s wielded magic her entire existence. She—”

“Look what it’s gotten her,” he cuts in. “In the fifteenth century, she was burned as a witch in Great Britain and again in Salem. Remember?”

I remember. We hadn’t reached her in time to stop the English burning. When witch mania reached the New World, all five of us knew Ciarah would show up. She did.

“Remember, Persia?” I ask. “She was revered as an oracle.”

“It seems she hasn’t learned a thing since then.”

The anger behind his glare startles me. Something is dreadfully wrong.

I recall my sigil on her hand. The magic had burned her. I should have seen to the wound. I’ll have Lacy look at it.

“She used her magic on you,” I say. “She’s never been this powerful. Name another student who’s ever conjured magic while wearing my sigil.”

He shrugs. “That only proves my point. She’s dangerous.”

“I’m not buying it,” I shoot back. Then I understand. I sink down into the chair to my left and say in a gentler voice, “Stripping her of her power won’t protect her.”

His eyes darken and I see part of the old, vicious vampire lurking close to the surface.

“The last thing we want is for her to be vulnerable, especially if The Shadows return,” I say.

“If?” His lips curl in derision. “There’s no ‘if.’ Damien won’t rest until he’s found his Demon Bride. You never did like facing the hard truths.”

It’s my turn to scowl. “Not true. I’m just not a fatalist like you.”

“Realist,” he corrects. “She’s going to get herself killed. She needs a lifetime or two without magic.”

“Are you forgetting those early years?” I ask.