Page 6 of Elemental Love (Warlocks #1)

Chapter three

“ E vrain, if you don’t sit still and concentrate, I swear on our lady moon, I will make sure you regret it.” Agatha stamped her foot, her frustration all too evident. “You have to apply yourself. Practice makes perfect.”

Evrain, sitting at Agatha’s well-scrubbed kitchen table, scowled. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I swear, Evrain, if you weren’t my grandson…” Agatha narrowed her eyes and treated him to a glare capable of withering thistles at the root.

Evrain swallowed nervously. His grandmother never made empty threats and he’d been on the receiving end of her harsh discipline too many times in the last few months to risk further punishment.

She might look like a sweet old lady but Agatha was frighteningly creative when it came to making his life difficult.

She was the one person he respected enough to back down when his impatience and frustration threatened to get the best of him.

Compliance wasn’t in his nature, something all too apparent in the sometimes fiery relationship he maintained with his father.

Agatha was ten times scarier than his dad, even on his worst day.

Evrain pushed back a smile. He and his dad might fight but the love between them was just as fierce.

He missed him. Not that he would admit that in a million years.

“Sorry, Grandmother.” Evrain’s tone was sweet enough to be decorated with candy flowers and hearts. That got him another hard stare.

“Sarcasm is unbecoming in one so young and untried. Perhaps in fifty years or so, when you have finally managed to absorb what I’m trying to teach you, then I might grant you a little latitude. But not now. Do I have to call your godfather Gregory again?”

“No! No, Grandma. I’ll behave.” Evrain batted his lashes shamelessly.

He resisted the urge to point out that in fifty years’ time Agatha would be breaking world records in the age department.

She might be a tough old bird but she was still his grandma and therefore susceptible to his dark, spaniel eyes.

The last thing Evrain needed was to be tag-teamed by Agatha and his godfather.

Separately they were formidable. Together. Evrain shuddered at the thought.

He shifted his chair back a little, twisted his fingers into the required shape and pushed his thoughts at the fat, white candle in front of him.

The tingle that shot down his spine could have preceded an orgasm.

If only! There was a whoosh of heat as the flame shot toward the ceiling and the candle became no more than a spattered puddle of melted wax spreading across the table.

Evrain yelped and blew on his singed fingers in an attempt to cool the scorch marks. He scowled again.

“Take that look off your face, young man.” Agatha was pitiless. She scraped at the cooling wax with a brightly painted nail. “Once this has cooled, you can lift it all off the wood. With a toothpick. That will give you some time to meditate.”

Evrain groaned. “Grandma, this is hopeless. I’m not getting any better, just more and more destructive. If I keep going like this, you’ll need to have the fire service on standby for when the cabin goes up in flames.”

“Nonsense. You’re like all young people these days—you want everything easy. The craft takes time, patience and perseverance. You would do well to remember that,” Agatha scolded.

“Mind you… A bunch of firemen hanging around does have some appeal.”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “You are a very bad boy. Less daydreaming about men and more application to your studies, please.” She sighed. “That’s enough for today. Put the kettle on and make your old grandma a cup of primrose tea. Then you have a table to clean.”

Agatha watched Evrain as he moved with effortless grace around her kitchen.

His aura flickered and sparked. The colors had mellowed as he’d matured, changing from aluminum foil silver and gold leaf to warm copper and platinum swirls.

The energy around him burned hot. Agatha worried constantly about his need to channel some of his power.

Evrain was restless, unfocused. His abilities manifested in intense creativity and extreme emotion.

Even though he vented almost every day, he still needed a calming influence in his life, and soon.

Evrain set a burnished copper kettle on the range. He flicked his fingers and steam immediately issued from the spout. The kettle rocked and shook as its contents boiled with unusual violence. Evrain gave Agatha a sheepish glance. “Sorry?”

“Why are you turning an apology into a question, young man? You shouldn’t have done that and you know it… Especially after what happened last time.”

Evrain peered up at the ceiling. “There’s hardly a mark.”

Agatha shook her head. Kitchen paraphernalia exploding into the air was a minor annoyance in the scheme of things. She shifted in her chair, settling into a more comfortable position. “Do you realize it’s been six months to the day since you turned twenty-one?”

Evrain poured steaming water into two mugs and spooned in aromatic herbs.

“Six months to the day since you turned my world upside down.” He brought the drinks across to the table.

“Let it steep for a few minutes.” He took the chair across from Agatha.

“I still can’t believe your opening line was ‘Evrain, you’re a warlock. ’ Subtle, Grandma.”

“Your expression was a picture.”

“You gave me no time to think, just launched into seven hundred years of family history over what was supposed to be my birthday lunch.”

Agatha’s thoughts drifted back to that late autumn day.

They’d enjoyed a pleasant meal together then had settled in the armchairs next to the open fire with a glass or two of home-brewed sloe gin.

Without preamble she had told Evrain of his heritage, Gregory and Coryn chiming in now and again.

There had been no softening of the news.

Evrain had to be strong to cope with his abilities and the training entailed in learning to control them.

“Virtually every generation of our family has sired a witch, though your mother did not inherit the gift. You are a great rarity.”

Evrain sighed. “I don’t feel special… I feel… I don’t even know how to explain it. Disconnected. That’s as close as I can get. I have this strange sense that I’m being pulled in several directions at once and I don’t know which way to go.”

“To varying degrees witches and warlocks are linked to the elements, some more strongly than others. For witches, the Earth’s pull is by far the strongest.” She held him with her gaze.

“You are a true elemental warlock—all four powers seem to call to you equally at the moment, though you might still find a stronger link to one. Fire maybe.” She rolled her eyes.

“It was obvious, even while you were growing up. I suppressed your abilities until you were old enough to cope with the pressure, but you are so strong that you started fighting the block without even knowing it. Your mother noticed, of course, and it was crystal clear to your godfather and me whenever you came to stay in the holidays. Whenever your emotions were heightened, tiny indications of what you might become began to manifest themselves. Fires burned brighter around you, storms became wilder, streams surged faster—the evidence of your link to the elements was plain to see for anyone who knew what to look for.”

Evrain wrapped slim fingers around his mug and hunched his shoulders. “Will it ever get any easier?”

“You have a great deal of learning ahead of you. You know that. This isn’t an easy life, Evrain.

Very few people know that warlocks exist, but among them there are those that would harm you.

Those that would seek to manipulate you or use your abilities for their own ends.

Gregory and I will teach you as much as we can, especially how to defend yourself, but you must be careful to keep your talents secret. ”

“I know. Believe me, I do not want to end up committed to the funny farm. You had to tell Grandpa, though, and Gregory told Coryn.”

Agatha placed her mug carefully on the hearth. “Perhaps it’s time…”

“Time for what?” Evrain asked. “There can’t be any family secrets left that are worse than what you’ve already told me.” He gave her a sharp look. “Can there?”

“Every day your strength increases. It’s finesse you lack, but despite what I’ve been telling you, that doesn’t just come from practice. Not for a warlock. You need balance, a calming influence through which some of your immense power can dissipate. It’s called channeling.”

Evrain frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“How can I explain?” Agatha leaned back in her chair.

“Coryn isn’t just Gregory’s husband—he is a conduit for Gregory’s energy.

A channeler. When Gregory uses his power, his deep emotional link with Coryn allows some of that power to filter through Coryn’s body.

Think of it like power generation. You’ve seen how a substation sparks in a storm, yet electricity through wire is safe and controlled. Gregory is the power station.”

“And Coryn is the wire?”

“Yes.”

“So was Grandpa a channeler for you?”

“No, witches don’t need to channel, our power is nowhere near wild enough. But all warlocks need someone. It’s not easy to find the right person either. Channeling for a warlock hurts. It requires a relationship founded on the deepest love and trust, and that in itself is hard to find.”

“So what you’re saying is that until I find a partner prepared to channel for me, my power will remain unpredictable?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s not something you need to worry about yet, but without a means to channel, the wild magic can overcome you. Subsume you, until you no longer wish to control it.”

Agatha observed the emotions flashing through Evrain’s eyes. Anger, fear, a touch of hope. Beside them the fire roared, flames shooting up the chimney as if someone had dumped kerosene on them.

“What man is ever going to want me if it means a lifetime of pain?” Evrain asked. “And if I never find someone, what then? Wild magic let loose can’t be a good thing.”

“Just like Gregory found Coryn, there is someone out there for you, Evrain. He’ll probably be where you least expect him.”

Evrain’s eyes narrowed. “There’s something else you’re not telling me, Grandma.”

“Not at all,” she denied it with a smile. “Now, it’s been a long day. Go home. You will need to have studied the next chapter of the grimoire by tomorrow evening.”

Her grandson stood and looked down on her from his full six feet and two inches.

Dark green eyes flecked with gold regarded her with a frightening intensity until black lashes blinked and he smiled.

For a moment Agatha saw herself in the sharp features and raven-black hair.

She insisted that he should be neat, clean-shaven with tidy hair.

He grudgingly complied, accepting her justification that discipline in his personal life would filter through to his mastery of the craft.

Only the slight hollows beneath his eyes shadowed his pale, smooth skin.

“No one else is allowed to speak to me as you do, Grandmother.”

Evrain’s voice was unexpectedly quiet but authoritative, and Agatha knew that only his understanding of what she was trying to do ensured his obedience. Evrain was self-assured and confident in most things, but this aspect of his life was still uncharted territory.

He bent and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“And get some proper sleep, boy. You have a lot of hard work ahead of you and I can tell you’re tired. No partying.”

He grinned. “No burning the candle at both ends, huh?”

“Candles everywhere just quaked in fear. Get out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, Evrain?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that table. The wax will be waiting for you tomorrow.”

He was out of the door before she could cuff him for his cheeky tone.

Agatha watched through the small kitchen window as Evrain strolled down the garden path and out of the gate, shutting it carefully behind him.

He moved with the ease of youth, and just for a moment Agatha regretted the passing of the years.

True, her talents allowed her to stay healthy and few would credit her with the seventy-five years since her birth, but she was beginning to feel tired, her bones ached.

Her driving need to ensure Evrain’s future kept her going but she looked forward to a time when she could relax in the knowledge that he was safe.