The Trouble with Spells

Prologue

Prologue

Vance Mangum - Two Years Earlier

I was sitting under a tree at my new school during lunch, trying to avoid the silly giggles and laughter from the endless parade of idiotic girls who were trying to catch my attention. Pretending to be oblivious worked best for me, so I focused on pulling random blades of grass from the ground while I bit into the apple in my hand.

It's not like I wasn't interested in the girls-I definitely was. I was tired of not being able to get to know the ones I liked before I had to move again. I already missed the girl I'd been hanging around with at the school I'd just left. Amber was amazing, and she could kiss like . . . well, there wasn't any point in thinking about her kisses, because I wouldn't be experiencing them.

I hated running-despised constantly looking over my shoulder for him, always getting so close to being found. It was totally messing up my life. Sixteen and only a sophomore, I should've been a junior, but being on the run and having to go into hiding put me a year behind in school. Hopefully, this time would be different. I didn't have the same faith in this new coven that my Aunt Marsha did. She seemed to think they might be able to help protect us better than we'd been able to protect ourselves. Deep down, I really hoped they could-I was so tired of running.

I took another bite of my apple, focusing on the doors to the school as I redirected my gaze away from the group of girls who were twittering together off to my left. That's when I saw her.

She stepped out of the door, walking next to some other girl, but my attention was instantly riveted on her. Every emotion she was feeling at that moment washed over me. I gasped, having never experienced anything quite like it. This girl was different. She was magical. Literally.

The warlock inside me lifted his head in curious admiration. She was young, probably only a freshman, but she was beautiful in a totally understated way. I was instantly drawn to her, watching her small, petite form as she moved toward the cafeteria.

A light breeze caught her black hair, stirring it slightly away from her face, and she smiled at her friend. The music of her laughter carried to me through the air, with the high and low notes blending in my mind in perfect harmony. She was . . . content, happy, secure, and amused about whatever her friend was telling her. She was everything I was not, and I knew I had to know who she was.

"Excuse me," I said, turning to one of the girls hovering nearby. She looked down at me with a hopeful expression. "Do you know who that girl is?"

I glanced back toward the beautiful girl, but not in time to miss the crestfallen look on this one's face before she lifted her head to follow my line of sight.

"Who? The blonde?" she asked icily.

"No. The one with the black hair," I replied, not taking my eyes off her.

"Her?" she replied with an incredulous tone. I turned, narrowing my eyes cynically. She shrank back for a second before squaring her shoulders and flipping her hair with one hand. "That's Portia Mullins," she replied, looking away from me to whisper with her friends again.

Portia Mullins. Oh, the irony.

I knew exactly who she was. She was the underage daughter of my new benefactor who had sworn to help protect me-the girl I'd been instructed not to interact with because she had no idea she was a witch, or that her family was part of a magical coven. I wasn't to have any contact with her until she turned sixteen and discovered her true heritage. That's when she'd be inducted into her coven. My coven. The coven I willingly bound myself to and could not betray.

She lifted her head and looked right at me. I fought for control as I turned my eyes away, with what I hoped was a bored, uninterested glance. But my heart raced slightly when I felt her emotions-her pulse picking up at the sight of me. She felt . . . intrigued, perhaps even attracted, but it was immediately replaced by deflation. She didn't feel worthy of my notice. If only she knew.

Portia and her friend entered the cafeteria. Even though she was gone from my sight, I could still feel her. Unexpectedly, I became very angry. I'd connected with a person on a level never before experienced, and I couldn't even get to know her. The need to punch something coursed through me.

Standing, I strode across the parking lot to my motorcycle, knowing full well ditching on my second day of school was going to get me into trouble, but I didn't care. One thing was for certain, I was going to stay in this place and get to know Portia Mullins . . . even if it got me killed.