Night Witch (Weatherstone College, #2)(56)

“My magic killed Logan’s mom?” My rasps grew louder. “He’s never going to forgive me.”

Mom was around to my side of the table in seconds, her hands on my face, a lick of her power caressing my skin. “No! Paisley Hallistar, you will cease that line of thought immediately. Firstly, there’s no fault with you. You were four years old, for goddess’s sake. And secondly, magic is strange and volatile, and the elders should never have allowed an affinity as powerful as yours to be struck from our world. The fault lies with the magical community. Not those of us who were victims of their genocide centuries ago.”

Dad stared at Mom and there was no mistaking the haze in his eyes. I’d never seen him cry, not that I could remember, but he was fighting back tears. “You’re going to use your magic again, Beth.” It wasn’t a question.

Mom hugged me one last time, then straightened, stumbling until she fell into her husband’s lap. He wrapped her up tightly, and I knew I wasn’t the only uncomfortable one. If they got any closer . . . we’d all need a shit ton of therapy.

“I’m going to use my magic again,” she confirmed, voice stronger than I’d heard in a long time. “I can’t ask Paisley to be brave and strong if I don’t show her the same in kind. I thought I was protecting everyone, but I understand now, I left us all at a disadvantage. One Hallistar short in our combined magical strength.”

“Do you still contain a streak of my magic?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “No. I’ve never felt that magic again after that day I released it, but in the fear that it would return, I cut off all magic. That day in the forest we were spooked by a huge bear, that part wasn’t a lie, and I reacted without thought. The power popped out of me, as if it were just waiting for the trigger to release. The shadowy creature was there for only a split second, long enough to slash through Isabel, who jumped between us, and then it was gone.”

“When I first started seeing the creatures,” I said, needing to explain even as my guilt weighed me down, “they flickered in and out of our plane before returning to Purgatory. My magic wasn’t strong enough to keep them here. That would be what happened that day in the forest.”

Mom straightened on Dad’s lap. “This is not your fault, Paisley.” It was the firmest tone I’d heard her use in a long time. “And Logan will not blame you.”

My phone rang before I could have the breakdown hovering on the edge of my consciousness—Logan’s name flashed across the screen. “Hey,” I croaked as I answered it.

“Precious?” His voice held a note of concern. “You okay?”

“Yes—yes.” I managed to sound almost normal. “Are you at his offices?”

There was a pause and it sounded as if he was walking. “Approaching now. I’m going to put you in my pocket for a second. Let me know if you can hear us okay.”

Static sounded through the speaker, but it settled just as fast. Logan and Noah chatted quickly, as if in conversation, and while it was muffled, most of what they said was clear. Logan’s voice came back stronger when he lifted the phone again. “All good?”

“All good,” I confirmed. “Be careful.”

“Always,” he assured me, before he slid the phone back into his pocket. I hit the mute button on my phone, to ensure Rafael never picked up on our presence. It took a while for them to make it through the building, moving past multiple security checks, until I heard Logan say, “Hey, Lucille, is Dad ready for us?”

Lucille, who I could only assume was a receptionist or secretary, replied in what I would guess was Italian. Logan answered her in the same language, and I tried not to swoon at how sexy it was that he spoke multiple languages. Thank the goddess we weren’t measuring the survivability of this relationship based on the skills we each brought to the table. Because I was woefully behind in that regard.

Logan and Noah remained quiet as they waited for Rafael, and it wasn’t long before the voice I remembered from parents’ weekend crackled over the line. “Son,” he said, sounding thrilled to see Logan. “What brings you over here when you’re supposed to be at school? Is your little band performing again?”

Little band. Condescending bastard.

“No gigs booked at the moment,” Logan said, sounding bored and annoyed. It was a familiar tone I’d heard more than once last year, and as much as I hated it now, he was doing what was needed to play his part. “I’m here about Paisley.”

Rafael scoffed. “What did that little traitor do? I told you not to trust her, son. Your job was to get close to her and report back on the family. I’ve been worried that your loyalty to a child would cloud your judgment of the adult.”

Logan’s laughter was hard and cynical. “You know my judgment is never clouded, Dad. You taught me that the hard way. To never lose sight of the end goal. To always play the fucking game. But the game has changed, and I need more answers if you want me to continue.”

All of us leaned closer to the phone, not wanting to miss anything. “What changed with the game?” Rafael asked, and he wasn’t as good at hiding his interest.

“Paisley is sick. She’s collapsing at school, and when I’m close to her, her energy wanes. I didn’t do anything to make her sick, so why is she exhausted with low magic? If you expect me to keep up with the plan, I need more information.”