Spiritbound Read online

  Elena tugged on Grace’s arm, pulling her back into their shared bedroom. As she lay in the dark, silent tears bathing her face, she knew it could have been worse. Yet she’d lost her best friend, forever. Her heart was irretrievably broken. She wasn’t allowed to talk to her other friends for a year. It was too much to bear.

  Elena wrapped her arms around her. At least they had each other. The image of Declan and the look of revulsion on his face stayed with her. She’d thought they’d had shared a special bond. They had touched each other’s minds. But that was all to be forgotten now.

  Chapter One

  Grace entered through the front door of the community hall and searched the crowd for Elena. Her cousin chatted gaily with Danila Newman, a witch from Cronulla. Elena must have made a joke because Danila threw back her head to laugh, sending her sun-bleached hair rippling down her back. Grace stood a little taller and headed over.

  ‘Grace, you made it.’ Elena swooped in with a kiss to her cheek, then gestured with her glass. ‘You know Danila Newman, don’t you?’

  Grace hadn’t spoken to Danila for more than nine years. Grace put out her hand. ‘Hi, I’ve not seen you in an age.’ Danila’s gaiety fled and her dark blue eyes dropped to Grace’s proffered hand. The young witch lifted her chin, made a scoffing noise and turned away.

  ‘Ouch,’ Grace said with a cheerful grin as she watched Danila disappear into the crowd.

  Elena swung around, gaping at the departing witch. ‘The nerve of her. I thought all that stopped years ago.’

  ‘Mostly. Gee, it’s packed in here.’ Grace put on a big smile and snaffled a glass of sparkling wine from a passing tray. She took a sip, her gaze travelling over the crowd, searching for anyone she knew or who cared to acknowledge her.

  Elena rubbed her back. ‘I can’t believe some people still hold grudges. The council lifted the sanctions on you when you were fourteen and you’ve been a model witch since then. Is this why we didn’t have a party last year for your twenty-first?’

  Grace shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ Her mother had thought it best to have a quiet celebration, although reaching twenty-one was considered a major milestone for one of the folk. Most families celebrated with the whole coven. Taking a mate was equally important and also celebrated, something Grace hadn’t done either. No warlock came near her.

  Being a couple of years older when she came to live with them, Elena hadn’t gone to their special school. Elvira hadn’t thought it was necessary because Elena was a half-witch. So her adopted sister hadn’t seen first-hand the slights Grace had endured. Then again without the distraction of having friends, Grace had excelled in her studies. Unfortunately, that only made matters worse. The more she excelled, the more she was hated. Then she’d become such a good witch, people were afraid of her. The label necromancer was firmly stuck to her hide.

  A tray full of yummy hors d’Oeuvres passed by and Grace grabbed a few before the waiter disappeared into the crowd. ‘Want one?’ she asked, with her mouth half full as she offered a prawn and avocado titbit to Elena.

  ‘No. I already ate a heap before you got here. The smoked salmon and mayo ones are divine by the way’

  ‘So what’s new?’ Grace asked as Elena eyed the crowd. ‘Anyone interesting?’ Someone interesting was usually someone from another coven who they didn’t know and who would talk to them, because they didn’t know about Grace’s reputation.

  Elena started. ‘No. No.’ She shook her head, and threads of red hair floated free from her chignon. ‘No one you’d be interested in.’

  Grace’s scalp crawled. ‘What is it? There’s something you’re not telling me. Spit it out.’

  Elena shrugged. ‘Oh, just a rumour.’

  Grace looked around, her sense of unease growing. ‘What rumour?’

  Elena sighed, then leaned in to speak into her ear. ‘The Mallorys are here tonight.’

  Grace’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Oh, great.’

  Elena frowned and looked at her feet. ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

  ‘He’s here, isn’t he?’

  Elena’s head shot up. ‘Don’t do this to yourself.’

  ‘Too late. I’m determined to rid myself of his ghost.’ Grace darted off into the crowd, determined to find a good vantage point from which to view her first love. Was he as scrawny and gangly as she remembered? Was he still holier-than-thou? Would he still be afraid of her? That brought a smile to her face.

  Her emotions span out of control too. There was anxiety and excitement fluttering in her stomach. She didn’t think she’d react this way. It was not a good sign. After all this time, she ought to be indifferent. She’d been so young when she had loved him, yet thoughts of him lingered. The hurt was just as raw as it had been that day. She’d not seen him for nearly nine years—a veritable lifetime. Would she even recognise him?

  A tall warlock moved and there, in her line of sight, was Declan. It hit her like a physical punch. She wanted to slide back into the crowd so he wouldn’t see her but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. It was the Declan she knew, but not. He was a man now. He’d be twenty-four. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes that sat elegantly in high cheekbones. He smiled, and the sun rose inside her. Memories of that horrible day sped into her mind, but she flicked them off like flies. This was the moment she longed for and dreaded. He was talking to someone with long, blonde hair. The woman turned and she realised it was Danila and her heart sank. A gorgeous, blonde witch. Great. Declan threw back his head and laughed at something Danila said and then he looked directly at Grace, speared her with his gaze.

  Blood thumped in Grace’s ears. The voices around her merged into a thrum. There was only her and Declan. He smiled at her, white teeth dazzling in his shapely mouth. She returned the smile, yet she was wary. Maybe he didn’t recognise her.

  Next, he was excusing himself and heading in her direction. Panic stations blared in Grace’s brain. Oh goddess! What will I say?

  ‘Hello, I’m Declan Mallory.’ He had a delicious British accent.

  Her heart sunk. ‘I know.’

  He chuckled. ‘I didn’t think anyone would remember me. I’ve been gone so long.’

  ‘Eight years, four months, five days.’

  He frowned. ‘What?’

  Grace threw up a smile, even though she knew she was doomed. ‘That’s how long you’ve been gone.’

  She exhaled slowly, waiting, just waiting for the penny to drop. He studied her face, her hair. ‘Grace?’

  Lowering her head, she stared at the floor, unable to meet his gaze, unwilling to see the hate.

  A finger touched her chin, gently urged her face up. ‘You look stunning, Grace. I don’t think I would’ve recognised you. You’ve changed so much.’

  Her heart fluttered at the look of admiration on his face. ‘You look pretty good yourself.’ He’d removed his finger from her chin, but her skin still burned from his touch.

  He chuckled then, but she could tell he was thinking about that day. It was a cloud shadowing his eyes.

  Rose Mason, a tall, dark-haired witch came up. Grace suppressed a groan. Rose was arch enemy number one, being her chief tormenter in school. Grace kept her face devoid of emotion. ‘Hi, Declan,’ Rose said gaily. Tossing her dark curls over her shoulder, she smiled lusciously into his face. ‘It’s so good to meet you.’ She edged between them, nudging Grace out. ‘A group of us are getting together at Bondi Beach tomorrow. Please say you’ll come.’

  Declan frowned. ‘Excuse me. I was talking to Grace. You do know Grace, don’t you?’ He stepped around Rose and nestled closer to Grace.

  Rose turned slightly and lifted her nose. She smiled at Declan as if he’d not mentioned Grace at all. ‘I can pick you up in the morning, if you like. Please say you’ll come.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m otherwise engaged. Won’t you acknowledge Grace?’

  Rose turned around. ‘Riordon,’ she said in a sulky voice.

  ‘Hello, Rose,’ Grace replied, shifting from foot to foot. />
  Declan’s dark brows drew together as he narrowed his eyes at Rose. ‘How can you be so rude?’

  Of course it hurt being snubbed, but Grace had built up a tolerance for it. Still, having Declan notice and calling attention to it filled her with shame. It was as if the whole room was pointing at her, vilifying her, instead of just tolerating her. Forcing Rose to acknowledge her presence made Grace confront the ostracism head-on, something she had not done for years. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable backlash.

  Rose backed up, taken aback by Declan’s vehemence. ‘She’s a necromancer. Dark witch material.’

  Grace’s face heated. Why did she do that? Why remind Declan of that day?

  Declan snorted then slid his hand to Grace’s elbow and moved her away, without even saying goodbye to Rose. Grace took a deep breath to steady herself, using her talent to rid her face of the embarrassing blush.

  He directed his gaze towards her and she flashed a weak smile.

  ‘That makes me so angry,’ he said to her. ‘Please tell me that was a once-off.’

  ‘I…um…’ Her cheeks flamed again, her ability to use her talent momentarily gone. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Nor could she come up with a fib, not with him touching her.

  ‘Declan?’

  It was his father. Grace’s eyes met the old man’s. Nothing had changed in the preceding years. They were still full of distrust and fear.

  Declan waved. ‘In a minute.’ He turned back to her, a smile in his eyes. ‘I thought about you a lot over the years. It’s good to see you again.’

  Grace smiled, detecting sincerity in his words. She dared not touch his mind or even mind speak him. ‘I…er…’

  ‘Declan?’ His father called again more urgently, this time waving him over with vigorous movements.

  Declan couldn’t avoid seeing him. He sighed loudly. ‘Excuse me. I must go. I’ll see you around.’ Declan inclined his head, smiled briefly and left her.

  Grace wanted to sink into the crowd, to slink away, but for some reason she stood there like a fool in full view. It wasn’t hard to hear what Mr Mallory was saying. ‘What are you doing talking to that woman?’

  She had to use her talent to hear Declan’s reply. ‘I didn’t recognise her, at first.’

  ‘You know your mother will have one of her turns if she hears you were flirting with her.’

  ‘Dad, I wasn’t flirting. I was saying hello.’

  ‘I forbid you to have anything to do with her, with any of that family.’

  Declan nodded. ‘Dad? Dad, you know I’m a man now. I make my own decisions.’

  ‘Sure you do. I only meant it for the best.’

  Declan cast a look over his shoulder and their eyes met. Grace turned her head away at the expression of regret she saw in them, then, unable to stop looking at him, unable to pass up the opportunity of fixing his image in her mind, she looked back.

  His father put his arm over Declan’s shoulder, urging him away. ‘Don’t go against me on this. Your mother’s health wouldn’t bear it. You know how she feels.’

  Declan sighed and allowed himself to be introduced to a very eligible and attractive young witch called, Mira.

  A depression began to fill Grace up as she surveyed the coven crowd. There were ten witches for every warlock in the room. Declan had a vast array of choices for a mate. It all became too much. Her feet leapt to obey her command and she fled the room. Elena hurried after her. ‘Wait, Grace. Wait!’

  Once outside, Grace sucked in the humid air. A summer Sydney night. A gentle harbour breeze.

  ‘You okay?’

  Grace gathered her arms over her chest and hugged herself. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You saw him then?’

  ‘Yes,’ Grace answered in an emotion-laden voice. ‘Spoke to him too.’

  ‘That’s great.’

  ‘Is it? He only talked to me because he didn’t recognise me.’ Her voice caught. She’d thought their reunion would be something more than a brief encounter. A bit more meaningful and deliberate than mistaken identity.

  Elena put her arms around her. ‘I know how you feel, Grace. I always have.’

  ‘You do? Well, that’s interesting. I don’t know how I feel about any of it.’

  ‘Yes, you do. He is your soul mate.’

  Grace’s head jerked back. ‘He can’t be,’ she said. ‘His family hates me and there’re so many other witches who are way prettier than me. I wouldn’t even register, not with the taint, not with the shadow of necromancy following me. You forget he was there. It’s real to him, not a rumour.’

  ‘That was so long ago. I’m sure it wouldn’t weigh with him now.’

  ‘You know, he stood up for me. He snubbed Rose Mason. I don’t get it.’

  Elena laughed. ‘I’m so glad. I’m glad he feels the injustice of their treatment of you. I knew he was a gentleman.’

  ‘You’re so confident. You talked to him, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, we used to be good mates.’

  Grace snorted and folded her arms. She heard a bus’s engine straining in the traffic and the toots of horns, then a siren. It had seemed so peaceful before.

  Elena patted her on the back. ‘I know there are other witches, but there is only one you.’

  Grace snorted. ‘Oh, that’s sweet, but you’re delusional.’

  Elena jerked her thumb over her shoulder. ‘Shall we go home?’

  ‘No. I can’t face it.’ Grace pointed in the other direction. ‘Let’s walk along the harbour shore. I need some sea energy to clear my head.’

  ‘Sure, that sounds good.’

  Grace hooked arms with Elena and they headed down Mort Street to look at the bay. Harbour lights bathed the dark water like stars, but they did little to soothe the hurt or Grace’s confusing array of emotions. Declan wasn’t worth thinking about. She should let sleeping warlocks lie and be done with it. With a heavy sigh, she realised she had passed the moment she had both longed for and dreaded for nearly nine years, and survived.

  ***

  Declan tried to concentrate on the witches he was introduced to, but his gaze kept returning to the spot where she had stood. It was as if he could still see her, feel her presence. That ghost of hers that had haunted him since he’d left Sydney so long ago.

  ‘This is Freya, Declan. Declan?’ His father elbowed him.

  Declan brought his head round. ‘Sorry. It’s been a long day. Jet lag and all that.’ That wasn’t a complete lie. He was still adjusting to the new time zone. He could have spelled himself, but then again he’d miss the slow glide into his new life.

  Freya was short and well-rounded, with an open face full of freckles. ‘I’m pleased to meet the famous Declan Mallory.’

  Declan’s smile froze. His parents had been telling everyone who stood still long enough that he was a champion battle mage. His father saw his look. ‘I’m not famous really.’ He coughed. ‘Er…Dad. There’s Mum. Oh dear, she looks tired. Why don’t you check on her?’

  His father took the hint.

  ‘I’m sorry about that. I have proud parents who tend to embellish my accomplishments.’

  Freya smiled. ‘You’re too modest. Most of us have read about your exploits. You know, home boy in a foreign place and all that.’ She moved a bit closer and her smile widened.

  ‘Did you really battle against members of a dark coven in York?’

  His cheeks burnt. ‘I was involved in that skirmish. Nothing major.’ He felt like a prize bull on display. It had been this way the whole night, women sizing him up as if he were their last meal.

  ‘Nothing major?’ She flapped a hand. ‘Well it’s nice to know we have someone like you around if there is any trouble. Although, we only have one dark witch in the north to worry about. Not a whole coven.’

  He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Exactly.’

  She rubbed up against him. ‘So, I’m free if you’re interested in spending some time together. We have a great house along the Ge
orges River. Pool, games room, lots of privacy.’ She angled her body so he could see her cleavage. She was a buxom woman, and lusty too, if the energy he detected radiating off her was a sign.

  ‘That’s a lovely invitation.’

  She ran her hand down his forearm and she sent a potent blast of lust at him. ‘I’m serious, Declan. I can be a lot of fun, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I do.’ He coughed, feeling a bit hot. It had been a while since he’d indulged and despite Freya’s overtures, which he found off-putting, he couldn’t help but respond to the lust-laden thrust she sent at him. He swallowed thickly as the image of her naked formed in his mind, with mounds of white flesh being squeezed and jostling during the sex act. He lifted his eyebrows. Freya was full on.

  Looking around, he saw his father waving. ‘Please excuse me, Freya. We need to leave now. My mother is not well.’

  ‘Sure.’ She lifted a hand and waved. ‘See you around, gorgeous.’ He glanced back over his shoulder and caught her checking out his butt. He bolted, thankful for the excuse to leave. The night had turned into a bit of an emotional grind. The unexpected and unearned adoration irked him to the core. As he scanned the room as they left he realised that there weren’t that many warlocks around but there were lots of witches. No wonder he was being treated like a trophy bride. There was no way for him to pursue a woman, because they were all bent on pursuing him. Life in Britain hadn’t been like this. He’d had affairs, even though his main focus was study, but never was it dished out to him in this fashion.

  He reached his father. ‘What is she talking about, famous?’ he said grumpily. He had to nip that in the bud if he could.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ His father supported his mother by the elbow. ‘Can you help?’ His mother was in a faint so Declan supported her from the other side. Someone probably said something that upset her.

  ‘Look,’ Declan said, giving his father the eye over his mother’s head. ‘It didn’t sound like nothing. I wish you wouldn’t tell people things about me. Let me make my own way.’ His parents had returned a year earlier than he had, as he’d been teaching at the college and wanted to complete the year. Now he saw what a mistake that had been. There was a practically a cheer squad waiting for him.