A wave of dizzying relief washed over her. It had been quite some time since she’d displayed power over the air like that, and she knew the slight exhaustion of using her magic would soon take its toll once the adrenaline wore off. But she wasn’t done with him, not yet.
“You dare,” Adriana spoke in a deadly calm tone, slowly stalking towards him with magic dancing between her fingers like small zaps of lightning. “You dare touch me again without my permission, and I will rip you apart.”
Alexander stared up at her as he swiftly jumped to his feet, an odd look of horror and awe painted across his face, before it vanished completely, as if he had placed a mask of indifference to hide his feelings. Holding his hands up to try to prove to her he was not a threat, he stepped forward, but as the wind began to whip around her skirts once more, he halted in his tracks.
“I am sorry,” he said, the truth of his apology sounded soft in his voice. “I did not know you were an Incantrix. I had no intention of hurting you. Please, call me Xander. And please know that you have nothing to fear from me.”
Adriana’s shoulders lifted in a silent chuckle. She smirked as she closed the distance between them, the wind dying down to its usual gentle breeze once again, her hands losing their sparks of magic.
She stood on her toes, leaning towards him to whisper, “I am not scared of you, Alexander Duran. I was not afraid of you as a child, and I am certainly not afraid of you now.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond, only spun on her heel and darted down the alley back towards the trees where her horse waited. As she made her way past the two carriages, she noticed a small group standing beside them, consisting of three childrenchasing one another in fits of giggles, and two men watching over them.
The smaller of the pair had pale rosy skin and hair so blonde it almost appeared white under the sun. His smile felt so welcoming, even from a distance, and his voice sounded like a soft lullaby as he beckoned the children towards him. The other was perhaps the tallest man she had ever seen. With short dark hair, a rich black complexion and muscles that seemed visible even through his fine suit—he was breathtaking to look at. His eyes caught hers as she ran past, an inquisitive look about him as he watched her, before he turned his attention back to the alleyway she had just appeared from.
Not wanting to check if Alexander was coming after her, she mounted and urged her horse to a fast run, speeding through the trees at a dangerously quick pace. Within minutes, she reached the lake that sat between Divina’s old manor and her own family’s home. As expected, a slight wave of fatigue began to overcome her, causing her knees to wobble and threaten to give out as she jumped down from her horse. She rested her forehead against the horse’s side, weaving her fingers through his short mane and whispering words of kindness to him.
The front door to her house flew open, interrupting her moment of tranquility, and she readied herself for the scolding lecture from one of the staff for going riding unaccompanied. But to her surprise, her great-grandmother appeared instead, carrying a huge stack of books in her tiny hands towards the carriage that awaited her by the lake.
“Where have you been?” she shouted as she hobbled down the path. “We have places to be, Adriana! People to see!”
“What are you talking about?” Adriana asked. She quickly tied her horse to a post by the side of the house before offering to take the small stack of books from Striga, who only swatted herhands away and proceeded to dump them in the carriage before clambering in herself.
“They will be arriving any moment now. I want to make sure everything is in order and you are ready to meet them.”
Before Adriana could even ask who she meant, movement from across the lake caught her eye. Her breath hitched as she watched two carriages trundle along the track that wound towards the imposing silhouette of the old manor house. There was no mistaking them, the lopsided tilt of the first from the haphazardly fixed wheel, even from this distance, was a damning confirmation.
A knot of dread tightened in her chest. Divina’s manor had been abandoned since she’d died, her family having disappeared after her funeral. So why now? Why Xander?
Her heart hammered against her chest as a figure clad entirely in black emerged from the first carriage and stepped onto the crumbling decking that stood over the lake’s edge. She waved her palm over the water, watching as a soft current began and stretched across the lake in soft ripples with the help of a small breeze she conjured. As the ripples reached the far side, she followed Striga into the carriage, closing the door behind her and tapping the roof to signal to the driver they were ready to go.
“What is going on, Great-grandmother?” Adriana asked impatiently.
Striga eyed her carefully as she forced a small smile onto her face. “It is time, my Adria.”
Xander
The soft breeze tickling his face and brushing his dark hair away from his forehead brought Xander out of his reverie. He often found himself lost in his thoughts, his Manipuli power providing him the ability to relive his memories in vivid details. Most would choose to imagine themselves in a fond memory, perhaps wanting to experience cherished moments of pure bliss. Xander always chose his darker ones.
He felt that by reliving his worst days, he could learn from his mistakes, learn how to become a better man. But the darkness he surrounded himself in was deeper than any of the shadows he could wield.
It was clear Deion worried for him, as did Edward who always accused him of not getting enough sleep. They knew Xander carried the weight of all their curses, even though it was not his to carry alone. But he wasn’t one to ask for help, not when he felt obliged to punish himself for his past actions. He would not allow anyone else to carry that burden.
This time, however, he wasn’t lost in an awful memory of blood and death. No, this time he was lost in the memory of the woman from town, the same woman that he had met eight years ago when she was only a girl, and had helped him through what was, without a doubt, one of the worst nights of his long existence. The strange Incantrix.
Xander stood unmoving, unblinking. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest the moment she stood close to him, the tremble in his fingers he only got when he was nervous. Even now, he could still smell her scent, the slight waft of lilies and lavender when the wind blew her hair, the saltiness of the bead of sweat that had run down the side of her temple when she’d thrown him to the ground. He suddenly wished he’d removed his gloves as he wondered what her skin would feel like beneath his fingertips, what her lips would taste like… what her moans would sound like.
It was wrong to think of such things. She clearly held no such feelings towards him, at least nothing like this odd infatuation he had for her. It was an unknown sensation to him, one that resided deep within his chest and seemed to warm his entire body. Xander had never reacted so strangely to anyone before, and it made him wonder what power the unknown Incantrix held.
He thought back to the night in the cellar eight years ago; even back then she had an unnatural effect of calming him during his unrelenting pain. She had been a mere ray of light in his dark night, a relief to the torment, but now this young woman was the hot blazing sun that seemed to burn within him.
He had no idea who she was, or where she came from. Striga had told him before that none of her family members had been gifted with her powers, and the young woman certainly did not resemble any of the Romilly family members he’d met over the years. He could only assume that she was a product of Malefica. The evil Incantrix had been known to pass her powers to mortals before she died—a desperate and futile attempt to create an army of her own to fight alongside Caligo’s. Fortunately, Xander had disposed of her before she could attempt to control her descendents, and they had instead been left to figure out their magic for themselves.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the house across the lake, the one he knew to be Striga’s home and where he had first met his strange Incantrix. He tried to ignore his shadows that seemed to pine after the mystery woman, as if they were dark ribbons attached to him that begged him to find her again. It was as if something seemed to call out to him, reaching across the water in soft ripples as the wind continued to brush his face, inviting him to journey across it and find whoever was beckoning him. For a moment, it almost reminded him of the way Lilith had called to him all those years ago, the way itseemed to fill all of his senses, but he knew this was different. This wasn’t a luring spell, nor controlling magic. This was a warm caress against his cheek, a small greeting.
A hand slapped down on his shoulder, pulling him back to reality once again.
“Wow,” Deion said with a low whistle as he squeezed Xander’s shoulder. “This is all ours, is it? It seems you have outdone yourself once again, Xander.”
