Page 16 of How Not to Hex a Gentleman (Witches of Edinburgh)

Chapter Sixteen

KENNEDY

T oday is the first day Bennett and I are meeting for research. With everyone breathing down my neck—and considering Bennett saw me use magic—I can't get out of it. My aunt would say it's the perfect example of me failing to keep myself in check. I allowed myself to have a little fun and it ruined everything.

Okay, I know I'm being dramatic, but getting her voice out of my head is extremely difficult. It'll take some time. I at least quieted her doubts when it comes to Bennett, enough to agree to work with him. He still makes me unsettled, and I don't seem to have any control over the way he ruffles all my feathers. I think it'll take some time before I can let my walls down any more than I already have with him. The jury is still out on how beneficial working together will be, but the girls voted and I trust them. That's shocking in itself, but it also feels like a win. It feels like I'm moving forward for the first time in my life.

Bennett asked me to meet in front of the National Library of Scotland. I've been to the Central Library across the street but have yet to visit this one. It looks glorious and I think I'm about to spend a lot of time here. I researched all about it before coming, obviously. I made lists of the areas that need my attention first. Fun fact, this library is also pretty great about doing various types of exhibitions and I'm a big fan of those.

Not that I'm excited about sharing my first experience with this library with him . Who is late. I glance around again as I run my fingers over the amethyst necklace I’m now wearing daily.

Just another point to add to the list of things I don't like about this man. A list that didn't start out all that long and is getting shorter and shorter as the time goes on, which I find incredibly annoying. It's almost like I have to keep making up reasons to keep the list alive and well, when in reality it's just me being stubborn. I think it's safer if I keep him at a distance, but not because I still think he's evil. Simply because he makes me feel things I don't understand or know how to deal with right now.

"Hiya!"

I turn to watch him jog up, his coat flapping in the wind, hair wild. How can someone look so hurried and yet so put together at the same time is beyond me.

"You're late."

"Or are you just early?" He stops right in front of me, giving me a front-seat view of his full megawatt grin and I'm blinded for a moment.

Okay, brain. Work . Any moment now.

"I think it's punctual to arrive a few minutes early."

Bennett lifts his sleeve to look at the watch and turns it so I can see it. "According to this," he points, "I am a few minutes early."

I roll my eyes but realize this is on me; I'm the one who keeps my watch a few minutes ahead and keeps forgetting about it, but I'm going to do the immature thing and not admit it. "Either way, let's go."

I turn toward the library, keeping my eyes forward, but I swear he grins again. There's something about him that makes me fully aware of where he is and what he's doing at all times. It's quite disturbing.

Oh, I can add that to the list!

At least he doesn't hesitate to follow—before beating me to the front and pulling the door open. I stare at him for a moment, a bit taken aback. If I'm being honest, I'm not used to anyone opening the door for me. It's such a small gesture and yet...okay, now my heart is doing that skipping-the-beat thing. Next, I'm going to develop butterflies. I need to chill.

I step inside the library with a quick thanks and head for the staircase. It's large and carries a quote written on the slopes of it. It looks different from the pictures I've seen and I stop to stare at it.

"The stairs are updated with information relating to the exhibit that is currently run by the library," Bennett supplies and I glance at him. "It's why you might've seen a map on the stairs or a picture of an author before."

"Oh," is all I manage because he knew exactly what I was looking at.

"We should start down here," Bennett calls out when I take a step up.

I turn to see him near one of the doors by a glass display. "I thought the history section was upstairs."

"It is, but I have a room with a few books that might interest you."

I follow him into said room, keeping my gaze on our surroundings and not on the fact that this space is much smaller than I expected. It's more like a walk-in closet with shelves on all four walls and a small desk in the middle.

"What is this?"

"My office, of sorts." He chuckles at my raised eyebrow. "The library is kindly letting me use the space for my research."

"How many strings did you have to pull?"

"Only one." Bennett grins again and I have to look away. "My best pal has some connections with the library, so he made it happen."

I nod, walking over to the desk to see the stack of papers and journals, as well as books. There are also stacks of books on the floor and more covering one of the two chairs.

"Here." Bennett grabs the stack off the chair before placing it on the floor and pulling the chair over to the desk.

"How do you get anything done in here? It's a mess."

I already have the itch to rearrange things and tidy up.

"I call it organized chaos." He's grinning again, I can tell even without looking in his direction. He feels a little like the sun—even behind clouds, I can feel the warmth on my skin.

Instead of arguing with him, I go for the chair and pull out my laptop. As I open the designated folder on my desktop, Bennett settles beside me. With a few clicks, I have a new document open with a few columns already prepared so I can fill in the information.

"You're very organized," Bennett comments and I nod.

"I find it is best to be prepared."

"Did you also color code this?" Bennett leans closer, his breath on my neck and I have to restrain myself from leaning back, just so I can get a little closer.

Something is definitely wrong with me. Maybe I need more sleep. The stress has to be getting to me. "You told me you had some books on witch lore." It's best that I stick to business. Whatever my hormones are doing—maybe I can keep them distracted.

I don't miss the quick flash of teeth as Bennett grins and gets up to grab a few books.

"I think we can read through these first and see if they have any information on thistles or how they relate to magic. This is Scotland, so there will be a lot of information on thistles, but I think we can sift through unnecessary information."

I grab the first volume, finally glancing over at him, because I need to see his response to my next comment. "You're taking all of this quite well."

Bennett shrugs, before meeting my eye and I can't look away even if I tried. Which I don't. I give myself permission to look at him. There's a gleam in his eye that makes me want to respond in kind, but I don't. All my fears are wrapped up in this tight knot, and for some reason, Bennett's response feels like the one thing that might finally loosen it.

I hold my breath as he speaks. "I'm not sure what to say about it. It just feels like a part of life. When you've been studying this for as long as I have, you can't assume there isn't a sense of truth to it, but even more so, I want there to be truth in it. At least in the good bits. There's far too much bad in the world."

"According to most witch lore, there's also plenty of bad in the magic world," I point out, proud of myself for keeping my voice even. How can he think magic is good? My aunt has always said that the moment a regular person knows about magic, it's a disaster. They don't accept us for who we are, so we should keep ourselves hidden.

Bennett, however, is blowing all of those ideas out of the water.

"Balance is important." Bennett flashes another grin. "There will always be good and evil in the world, but I believe good will always prevail. It has already; just look at you and your power. How can you not believe in the good?"

I swallow my gasp as my body freezes at his question. He's looking at me with the most genuine expression and I fight the sudden urge to stand and hug him. Instead, I clear my throat and ask. "Have you experienced both in your own life?"

Because I'm watching him closely, I can tell the question hits close to home, but we don't know each other well enough to be spilling all of our secrets, so I don't expect him to reply. Yet, he surprises me again. "Yes. Sometimes more bad than good, but that doesn't mean I see the world as bad all the time."

He's so honest; I don't know what to do with that. This makes me want to peel back more of his layers and see what it is that makes him who he is. I don't understand the impulse, or why I feel it so strongly. I don't have these types of reactions toward people. Typically, I'm all about keeping my distance, but with him, already, I don't want to.

That's quite terrifying.

"Well, those are quite the rose-colored glasses," I say, hoping to put some distance back between us.

"I don't think they're rose-colored. I think they're realistic. Everything is about balance, so why not try to find it in every aspect of life?"

"Because there's always more bad than good," I say. It's all I've ever been taught. I don't know how to think otherwise.

"But what if you had the power to tip the scales?"

His question is quietly spoken, as if he's afraid to spook me and I find myself looking at him again. He's watching me steadily, like he actually wants me to answer, but I don't know how to answer, because his question makes me the 'good' in the equation and all I've ever been—according to my aunt—is a vessel for evil.

"You think that we can be what tips the scales to good?" I ask instead of saying all of my fears out loud.

"I think you already have."

BENNETT

I'm pretty sure this girl might be the death of me. In the best way possible. Because when she looks at me with that open vulnerability, I want to protect her from everything horrible that's ever happened or will ever happen to her. I don't think she knows just how expressive her eyes are. She puts on this air of indifference, these walls to keep herself protected, but the glimpses of her heart still shine through, and I want nothing more than to see all of it.

She blinks at my words, unsure how to take them, and I wonder if I've said too much. Kennedy makes me want to tell her everything about myself, and that's not normal for me. Nicholas and Lana know me better than anyone else, but typically, I keep the important parts of me hidden. Here, though, I'm baring my soul to this girl. In a roundabout way, but still. I need to cool it before I scare her away. I'm already surprised she's letting me help and I don't want to mess that up.

"There's a passage here." I clear my throat and try to get back to business. "It talks about what I would qualify as natural magic. The witches who practiced did a lot with plants and nature in general." I pull the book open to the appropriate section I marked earlier for research and place it in front of her on the desk.

"They were called herbalists and healers, and they kept the devil away. Which is something the monarchy feared during this time."

"Why is that?"

"During the 1590s, Princess Anne of Denmark was sailing to Scotland and ran into a series of storms that nearly capsized her ship. King James IV went after her and was also met with storms that seemingly came out of nowhere. He became convinced he was being tormented by witches and that hysteria just continued to spread."

"So, it wasn't that something actually happened, they just thought it did?"

"Correct. It was mostly the perception of things and how someone with a lot of reach and power spun that perception to the public."

"So, not unlike anything that happens nowadays." Kennedy chuckles with no humor and I nod, but my eyes are on her once more and I think I understand where this reluctance is coming from.

"Is that what you're afraid of? Being persecuted for your magic?"

She glances up at me sharply, as if surprised I could guess such a thing, but it really doesn't take much to make the assumption. Even spending a few hours with Kennedy, I can tell she's afraid of her power—of magic in general. What I can't tell is if it's because something happened to her or there's another reason driving that fear.

"We were told that there will be people after our power. How can I not be unsettled?"

Unsettled: another word for fearful but without admitting as much. The need to protect this girl from all harm rises once more. She really is opening up all kinds of impulses in me.

"You're not alone in this, you know," I say and she glances at me again. "You have Parker and Lily," I hurry to add before I insert myself into the narrative. Not that I don't want to. I just don't think she wants me to.

"Right," she says before looking back down at the book and then at her computer.

She's taking notes in her document, her fingers flying over the keys seamlessly. I want to say it, I want to tell her that I'm also here and this is not a one-time thing. What I can tell her is that I'll see it through, helping them figure it all out. This connection between them is new to all of them and it is understandable that the power Kennedy has shown since that night is nerve-racking if she's never experienced it before. Parker hasn't been upfront about a lot of things, and I actually appreciate her loyalty to Kennedy, but I can tell there's more to all of it and I hope that with time, Kennedy will be able to tell me about it herself. That she'll be able to trust me.

This is goal number one on a long list of goals when it comes to this beautiful girl. I just hope my track record of accomplishing goals holds.