Now I’d had just about enough of his crap. “Don’t be such an infant.” I glared at Tran. “If you’ve got a problem with me, be a man and spit it out,” I growled, making Poe laugh.
The smile Tran gave me was truly feral. “Problem?” his smile widened. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do have a problem with you. I don’t trust you. You’re an outcast. You don’t have any friends in the community. Nobody likes you.”
I pressed my hands on my hips. “I like me.”
“Me too,” answered Poe.
Tran’s jaw clenched. “Witches like you can’t be trusted,” he added, his dark eyes gleaming with belligerence.
“You mean the pretty ones?” I took a challenging step towards the stage. The nerve of this guy. I couldn’t see his fingers. If he was starting up a dark curse, I was going to hex him.
“Tran. That’s enough of that,” ordered Darius, a hint of frustration in his voice. His gnarled hands were clenched into fists. “We’ve already discussed this. The matter is closed.”
The young witch glared at Darius. “It’s not.”
How did he get a seat on the dark witch court? I stood with my legs apart and tapped into the energy of my rings. Just in case.
“Out with it then, little witch. What’s gotten you all work up?” I flashed Tran a brilliant smile. “Is it because you like me? It’s not your fault. I’m irresistible.”
At that, Tran let out a long and spiteful laugh. Then another one.
Damn. I never thought I was that ugly.
A savage light lit Tran’s eyes, and his chin lifted. “You know nothing.”
“Well, then,” I said with a breath. “I’m not going anywhere. Tell me.”
With a sliding sound of wood, the young witch jumped up from his chair, and his expression became almost taunting. “You’re a pity hire.”
I stilled. “Excuse me?”
He let out a rough cackle. “You barely have any skills as it is. I wouldn’t even call you a witch. More like a human playing a witch.”
“I’ve got plenty of skills.” You black-haired bastard. “Want to see ‘em?”
“Please,” exclaimed Tran, his face a shade darker. “A dead mother, and your father abandoned you. You only got the job because the members here feel sorry for you.”
My lips parted and a flush rose from my neck to my face. It hurt. Everywhere hurt and I felt as though Tran had hit me with a dark curse. Was it true? Was that the only reason the dark witch court hired me in the first place? Because they felt sorry for me?
I met Oscar’s eyes, and for a moment I saw pity there before he mastered himself. Then it was gone. But I’d seen it. It was all true.
I stood feeling like an idiot, like the biggest fool in the world, the butt of a universal joke. Me, Samantha Beaumont, a big ol’ fool.
It had been a pity offer. All those years of working for the dark witch court, just because they felt sorry for me.
Anger and frustration filled me, and I curled my fingers into fists to keep them from shaking.
“Don’t believe him, Sam,” said Poe, the anger in his voice triggering mine tenfold. “He’s a liar.”
I gritted my teeth, unable to answer. Not because I feared I would break down in a slop of tears but because of the anger simmering in my gut. I might do something stupid. Very stupid.
Tran watched me with a sour expression. “No offense,” he said.
I bared my teeth. “None taken.” Anger stirred in me. I took a steadying breath and looked at Darius. “Is that all?”
Darius watched me for a moment, his eyes pinched and his expression weary. “It is.” His lips moved in anticipation of what he was about to say next. “We’ll have a pigeon sent to monitor your progress. The dark witch court thanks you for your service—”
I spun around, Poe gripping my shoulder to balance himself, and trudged back up the aisle. The last of Darius’s words were merely a muddled whisper behind me, and I caught a few gasps of outrage from the witches over the loud pulsing of blood in my ears. I didn’t care how rude this looked. I didn’t care about any of them. I just wanted to get the hell out of here.
My eyes burned but I would never let any tears fall. Never in the presence of this witch court.
Poe was silent on my shoulder. He knew better than to try and speak to me when I was like this. Smart bird.
My body was tight with emotions as I fumed. I was beyond humiliated. I wasn’t a failure or an incompetent witch, not by any standards. Okay, so I needed a little magical boost with my sigils—sue me. It’s not like other witches didn’t borrow their power or direct their energy from magical objects as well. What set me apart was that I didn’t borrow magic from demons. Instead, I used them for whatever skill they mastered.
But I had another skill—the one I’d kept a secret my entire life. I had discovered it accidentally when I was eight. I’d I touched my father and tapped into his inner magical power—and took it for my own. Then he’d tried to kill me.
If the court were to discover my secret—that I had the ability to borrow magic and use it as my own with a simple touch—they would kill me.
I had one choice. Let them think I was weak or die.
And I hated it.
My mind was a turmoil of emotions. I didn’t even remember making it to the front door. With a shaking hand, I yanked it open and rushed out into the street.
And then the tears fell.
6
By the time I’d left the theater and stopped by the local witch pub for two glasses of wine to clear my head, it was nearly five in the morning. I was surprisingly awake, high on adrenaline and emotions. The thought of a large peperoni pizza and being curled up on the sofa with a soft blanket and the latest Netflix series to binge-watch had my legs on overdrive as I strolled up the streets of Mystic Quarter and headed towards Witches Row, my neighborhood.
The night was warm and humid, smelling of rain. I could almost feel the water in the clouds, the electric charge of the lightning waiting and contemplating where to hit. The sky was completely covered, and I had to rely to the sporadic street lights in the quarter to help me see. Tires whispered on the pavement and light appeared in the street opposite me, resolving into headlights.
My jaw hurt, and I unclenched it when I realized I was grinding my teeth. Damn the dark witch court. Damn them all to the Netherworld.
My blood pressure spiked, making me dizzy. Screw them. I’d been in worse situations than this. Hell, I’d been in plenty. And my experience had taught me that no matter how bad things were, they could always get a whole lot worse.
Whatever emotions I felt about the dark witch court meeting, I pushed them back. I wasn’t about to have a meltdown because a few witches thought me weak and frail. There’d be time to think about all that tomorrow—specifically, how many hexes and dark curses I could use on Tran. I had a few of my favorites in mind. I’d discovered Casual Castration and Forever Impotent three months ago in my aunt’s dark grimoire collection. Yeah, my aunt had an awesome dark hex collection. Love her.
Right now, though, I had a date with whatever new hottie was on Netflix.
Thinking of hotties, Logan’s lips emerged in my mind’s eye and my pulse increased. I couldn’t help it. The angel-born did that to me.