Everwild (The Healer Series, #1) (4 page)

Willow spotted Belinda a couple tables away
from her and when she caught her eye, Belinda smiled happily and
waved. Willow returned the smile. Belinda wore a simple red dress,
contrasting with her short brunette hair done in tight banana
curls. She wore her talisman proudly in her left ear. It was a
silver hook that glistened and glowed with a deep purple color.
Willow imagined she cut her hair just so she could show it off. It
was very pretty, and fit Belinda’s personality to a tee.

Willow envied her beautiful talisman, but
knew that she had to wait just a little longer until she received
hers. She was curious as to what it would be…a necklace, ring or
bracelet? She didn’t care as long as it was hers. The talisman was
a prize every First longed to achieve. Certain spells and training
had to be completed to earn this special device which channeled the
internal magic that resides within each witch. Once a witch has
achieved one, and places it on their body, it would remain there
forever. Then, her advanced training in magic would finally begin,
and Willow would get to learn all sorts of interesting, intrinsic
spells. The road to becoming a Second was challenging and vigorous,
but Willow had waited for this moment since she was a little
witch.

A talisman could be removed through powerful
dark magic, but the extraction process would suck the life out of
the witch and be given to the one who tried to remove it. It was a
practice most abhorrent. Extractions were never performed; at
least, she’d never lived to see a magical being attempt such a
dangerous and dark act. In the past, it has been tried. But
warlocks and witches alike stepped up to eliminate the extractor.
The darkness never lasted long before it was eliminated. Witches
and warlocks take their talismans very seriously indeed, and Willow
vowed to guard hers with her life.

The music continued to play through the night
after the meal. The tables were cleared and several witches and
warlocks made their way to the dance floor. Willow made her way
towards Belinda to chat, when someone abruptly stepped in her way.
She ran smack into a hard body and stumbled back in shock. Willow
looked up to see Declan Aldridge blocking her view and her heart
dropped.

Declan stood tall and proud in his crisp,
black Louis Vuitton tuxedo. His deep Chesnutt hair was longer than
when she saw him last, and he now had bangs that swept across his
forehead. His dreamy hazel eyes sparkled mischievously, like he
knew he was stopping her from going to see Belinda. There was
haughtiness behind his gaze and she didn’t like it one bit.
Portia-Anna was right though, Declan was incredibly attractive. He
was tall and trim, with his broad shoulders pushed back slightly in
excellent posture. Underneath his tuxedo, she was sure were
well-built muscles. Declan cared about what he looked like, and it
was obviously so.

Okay, so he was attractive. So what? He was
still extremely annoying, making his good looks seem so
unimportant. His eyebrows rose slightly as he regarded Willow with
a cool arrogance. Her heart increased exponentially at his
closeness. Her stomach pooled with jitters as she felt the nervous
energy he always brought to her. She thought she’d be able to get
through this night without encountering him, but she supposed she
couldn’t get
everything
she wished for her birthday.

“Willow Rose,” he bowed slightly meeting her
irritated stare dead on. “Will you do me the honor of sharing your
first dance with me?” Willow shifted uncomfortably under his
unwavering gaze.

Murmurs of “awes” and “how sweet” reached her
ears and Willow looked around awkwardly to find that several other
witches and warlocks had stopped their conversations beside them to
watch. Declan held his hand out, so confident that she would
oblige. Willow wanted to say no. She wanted to stomp her heel on
his foot and choose another warlock instead, making him look like a
fool. But how would that make
her
look? Arrogant and stuck
up, no doubt. Not to mention his father was one of the greatest
warlocks of the age. It would be highly offensive if she denied his
son a simple dance.

Gritting her teeth and attempting a smile,
she said back formally, “It would be my pleasure,” Several more
awes came from the witches and Willow had to stop herself from
rolling her eyes. Declan put her hand in the crook of his arm as he
led her to the center of the dance floor. She put her arms out in
the proper form of dancing, trying to put enough space between
them. But Declan stepped up close, putting his right hand on the
small of her half naked back and put her hand on his shoulder,
taking the other one in his left. He then guided her stiff form
closer to him until their bodies were a mere centimeter apart. She
inhaled his cologne. He smelled really, really good. She almost
leaned into him, but then she quickly pulled back as she remembered
who it was she was dancing with.

Willow gazed into his face. Her eyes were in
direct line with his plush mouth, and once again, she tried
suppressing thoughts of his good looks. Her head was going to a
place she refused to go. She would not think about kissing. Nope.
She wouldn’t. But she would bet Declan was a really good kisser.
Okay, stop. No more thinking about kissing,
she told
herself.

“Just follow my lead,” Declan said
confidently as the orchestra began a slow tune as if she wasn’t
already horrified by the idea of dancing. He began moving and
twirling Willow across the dance floor. She was suddenly aware of
eyes locked on her, watching her every move. She grew nervous. What
if she made a mistake? What if she made her Coven look bad? Why was
everyone staring at her? “Ugh!” Declan moaned in her ear when she
stepped on his foot. When she did it again, he snapped at her.
“Will you
stop
it?”

And there was the Declan she knew-demanding
daddy’s boy that was used to getting his way. Willow huffed with
impatience, willing the orchestra to hurry their song. “Don’t lead
so fast and then maybe I would,” she snapped back looking down at
her feet to concentrate. She was not that great of a dancer to
begin with, but the staring eyes were putting a lot of pressure on
her to look like an elegant dancer, something she would never
be.

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” he taunted her.

“Yes,” she said flatly. “You’re the one who
asked me to dance, so yes, that makes it your fault.”

“Ow,” he winced when she stepped on his foot
again. “Well, I didn’t know you were so terrible at it.” He then
looked down at her and smirked knowingly. “But the one thing you
are
good at is stepping on people’s feet.”

Willow’s mind instantly went to their
previous argument. The look in Declan’s eyes told her he was
thinking the same thing. “You’re such a baby,” she said trying to
pull away from him.

But Declan suddenly drew her closer until her
body was flush against his. His grip around her waist was strong.
She couldn’t move. Twirling her around, he leaned down and
whispered in her ear, “You’re just jealous that I’m a better dancer
than you…and a better spell caster.” His lips tickled her ear as he
finally guided Willow out of the center of the floor towards the
edge. Willow was bubbling mad, her emotions out of control. He was
doing this on purpose; trying to get a rise out of her. But she
wouldn’t play into his hand so easily this time. A sudden idea
formed in her head. They stopped moving, but Declan continued to
hold her firmly. She didn’t want to think how it made her feel.

Willow looked up at him, batted her eyelashes
shyly, and ever so slowly stepped into him even more. His eyebrows
jacked up and his mouth fell open slightly. He was confused by her.
There was no space between their bodies now. Willow leaned in close
to his mouth and he froze. His body was tense and still against
hers. Whispering huskily and as sexily as she could, she said, “You
know what? You may be a better spell caster than me, but I’m better
at
everything
else…” His grip loosened on her instantly and
she quickly squirmed out of his hold smiling complacently. Willow
saw several emotions cross Declan’s face, but then he just ended up
looking pissed off.

Willow flipped her hair off her shoulder and
walked away from Declan feeling rather proud. Tonight was her
night. She had beaten him at his own game! She practically seduced
the poor warlock. Willow knew he didn’t return those kinds of
feelings towards her, but he was still a young guy, and young guys
always act with their bodies first. Feeling like she was on top of
the world, Willow spotted Belinda by the punch bowl, and made her
way over to do what she had originally intended to do before Declan
so rudely interrupted her.

“Hey, B,” she said and Belinda turned to face
her. Willow immediately noticed that something was wrong with her.
She looked really pale, almost drained. Her eyes were dull and her
shoulders drooped as if she carried a great weight. Belinda smiled
at her, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Something wasn’t right. Where
was the carefree Belinda she knew?

“How was your dance?” Belinda asked lazily.
It came out as more of a sigh than an actual question. Belinda knew
Willow hated Declan Aldridge, and Willow was sure Belinda watched
them the entire time they danced, probably in amusement. However,
there was no playfulness or teasing that she thought would come
from her. They’ve always joked about him before, but now, she just
seemed bored. Willow wondered if she was having a good time or not.
It seemed like she had been enjoying herself earlier.

“Belinda, are you alright?” Willow asked her
cautiously.

“I’m just tired,” she said and took a sip of
her drink. She looked off into the distance and barely acknowledged
Willow’s presence. There was haziness to her eyes and she was
blinking very slowly as if in a daze. She poured herself a drink,
thinking it was strange that she’d be tired. It was only nine o’
clock.

“My magic…I can’t seem… to channel it…” she
said trailing off and Willow paused nearly dropping the cup in her
own hand. She turned to observe her friend and her eyes shifted to
look at Belinda’s talisman. There was no light coming from it-no
glow or indication of magic whatsoever. When Willow looked closer,
the silver hooked talisman had a faint gray color that was slowly
spreading over her talisman. The purple glow was gone and in its
place, a small black dot was swirling like a vortex in the middle,
which then began to spread over the gray color that had formed.

“Belinda,” Willow said strangely, “Your
talisman isn’t radiating magic like it should. There’s a strange
color on it….”

“Oh?” Belinda asked, not sounding the least
bit surprised. She moved her fingers over her talisman, but then
shrugged it off. “Hmmm, I wonder what that means. I’m…I think I’m
going to go sit down. I’m really, um, tired. I’ll see you later,
Willow.” She walked away, staggering a little as if drunk. Willow
sniffed her drink quickly. Perhaps someone messed with the punch
and put a sleeping spell in it or something. But Willow didn’t
detect any strangeness to the drink. No spell she knew of could
turn a talisman a color like that, anyways. Something weird was
going on with her. Willow contemplated finding her Second in the
Westwood Coven, even though she wasn’t sure who it was. Still,
someone should know about it, especially since Belinda was her
friend.

As Willow started walking around, she noticed
several other witches’ talismans had the same misty gray color in
them. It was obvious which witches were affected and which were
not. Some talismans had already turned completely black. The
witches who had the black talismans looked completely warped; their
faces drooped, like there was no life in them, and many of the
witches were hunched over or sitting down with their heads dipped
into their necks. Willow shuddered. They looked almost dead. Most
of the warlocks didn’t seem fazed or even noticed anything was
happening, as she only counted a few affected witches in the darker
corners, but Willow couldn’t shake the feeling that something
wasn’t right.

She tried to find Pertussia and Portia-Anna
in the crowd, but the dance floor was more packed now. Willow would
bet money that Portia-Anna would be over by the group of warlocks
huddled in the corner. As she made her way over there, many witches
stopped her to say congratulations and make small talk. She tried
to be considerate, but gave curt responses instead. She spotted
Declan surrounded by his group of friends. There were several girls
surrounding him, to her disgust. Charming Declan was smiling and
flirting with them, and she rolled her eyes. Typical.

Willow stalked up to him, her fists clenched
at her sides. She would have to put her dislike towards him to the
side momentarily. “Declan, I need to talk to you.”

He stiffened at hearing her voice, but then
turned slowly and a lazy, cat-like smile crept up his face. His
friends behind him snickered about something.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” he asked
crossing his arms as Willow put her hands on her hips. His friends
laughed behind him, only making Declan’s smile widen. Willow’s face
heated up with anger and something else…lust.

“Get over yourself,” she said slightly
breathless, unable to help it. Sometimes, it was hard to deflect
Declan’s charisma. “I need to talk to you.”

“That so?” he eyed her warily then turned to
his friends and said, “Hey guys, did you hear that? The honorary
Willow Tree is requesting
my
presence. Wow, I feel so
special!”

She hated his sarcasm. The girls around him
snickered and gave her nasty looks. The other young warlocks just
laughed out loud, egging him on. Willow wouldn’t be able to talk to
him in front of his friends since he was being a jerk, and this was
important, so she grabbed him by the waistcoat and roughly pulled
him away from them.