Page 16 of Wooing the Wiccan (Elf Magic #1)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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Eoin is quiet as he drives the car toward Jared’s house.

The only reason we’re even in the car is because I thought I’d be going back to Jared’s with him tonight, and I wanted to drive us both.

The car mostly stays parked in its very expensive space under the condo building, since all the elves on my security team are portal-capable, and that’s how I usually travel.

I did make a point of learning to drive soon after we migrated, though, so I wouldn’t need to be dependent on others if I wanted to get around.

Am I really thinking about the car and driving right now?

“That didn’t go well,” Eoin says, finally breaking the silence, and I slide him a sideways glance.

“No. It didn’t.”

“I apologize for making it worse.”

I resist the instinctive urge to snap at him, and let that energy out in a sigh instead. “I don’t think anything could have made it better.” Though it might have helped if he hadn’t deliberately riled Jared. “I don’t really know what to do now.”

“What do you mean? You tell him the truth, like you said you would. He knows now—the law allows you to explain.”

I know that. As soon as things between us became more intense, I made sure to read the exact wording of that law.

And then I read it again… and again… and again.

I have it memorized now. Jared found out about the community by accident—mostly—and so I, as a member of the community he knows well, have the right and responsibility to make sure he understands how imperative it is to keep the secret.

In doing so, I’m free to give him any information that is available to the general community.

If I don’t want to be the one to have this conversation with him, I’m legally obliged to call CSG, where there’s a team dedicated to this.

It's all clearly spelled out and very straightforward. Especially the part specifying that if Jared reacts badly to this information, if he refuses to keep the secret or attempts to harm me or any other community member, I must call enforcement. They also have a team dedicated to dealing with this situation, and when they’re finished, Jared will have no memory of me, what happened tonight, and, most likely, his ability to use magic.

I don’t want to have to do that to him. I don’t want to lose him, but if he decides he’s not ready for an interspecies relationship, I can learn to cope.

His magic, on the other hand… I’ve seen firsthand how much joy it brings him to feel that connection with the world.

He would still be able to practice Wicca without it, but it would take something from him that he doesn’t deserve to lose.

I can only hope that things don’t go that way.

Instead of telling Eoin all of that, I reply, “Yes, but what if he doesn’t want me when he knows the truth?”

“He will.” The reply comes fast enough to be gratifying. “You’re still the same person, and he doesn’t strike me as being bigoted. It shouldn’t matter.”

“The lies, though… What if he can’t get past that?”

Eoin hesitates, then says, “Once he knows why you lied, surely he’ll understand. Your reasons aren’t frivolous—there are literally millions of lives at stake.”

I shrug and return to staring out the windshield. “I’m sure he’ll understand, but that doesn’t mean he’ll trust again.” There are too many variables to be certain of that.

The life force swirls comfortingly around me, as if assuring me everything’s going to be okay, but I know just as well as it does that every being’s free will is out of its control.

Eoin turns the car onto Jared’s street, and I glance at the dash clock.

Two minutes to go—right on time. I wanted to drive straight here and wait on the street outside the house, but told Eoin to drive us around to kill time instead.

The last thing I need to do is make Jared feel pressured or unsafe.

Turning off the engine, Eoin turns to me. “Are you ready?”

I nod, then shake my head.

“I’d offer to come and support you, but I don’t think ignoring his wishes is going to make this go better.”

What might have been a laugh escapes me as a huff of air. “Definitely not. I can do this.” I take a deep breath and get out of the car, then force myself to maintain a steady pace as I walk up to the front door and ring the bell.

He makes me wait on the doorstep for long enough that I begin to think he might not let me in, but then finally he opens the door.

He hasn’t changed his clothes, hasn’t made himself more comfortable, but he has added a bracelet of black stones, and there’s a bowl of dried herbs on the console table where he leaves his keys.

I sniff—rosemary, sage, and lavender, I think.

He’s talked before about the role herbs play in Wicca, and I strongly suspect that these are aimed at me.

That hurts. I don’t know what this combination is supposed to do, but the fact that he feels the need to use them is painful.

“I guess you’d better come in.” There’s no welcome in his tone, and he looks past me to the car at the curb. “Eoin decided to stay in plain sight, did he?”

Ignoring the mocking edge, I step inside and toe off my shoes as I have so many times before. “Yes. Would you be more comfortable if someone else came to replace him?” Eoin’s the one on shift, but given the circumstances, I’m sure someone else on the team wouldn’t mind.

Jared scoffs. “No, thanks. Better the devil I know, right?”

Not the best start.

He closes the front door, and I follow him into the living room.

For the first time in all my visits, the overhead lights are on instead of the lamps, and even though the room is still cozy and inviting, the feeling isn’t as strong as usual.

Of course, the inhospitable vibes emanating from Jared might have something to do with that.

“Where’s Marge?” I ask, desperate for an icebreaker.

“In the kitchen.”

I glance toward the kitchen and see the door is firmly shut. He doesn’t trust me with his cat anymore. The hits just keep coming.

He’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with his arms crossed defensively, so this isn’t likely to get any easier. I need to just… start.

“Do you have specific questions, or do you want me t?—”

“What were those people with the horns?” he blurts.

“Demons,” I reply, then realize my mistake when the color immediately blanches from his face.

“Not the kind you’re thinking of. That’s important to know—hell doesn’t exist.” It’s only recently that I was introduced to those concepts and ideologies, and I try desperately to remember the details.

I’ve only heard things in passing. There was no real reason for me to learn the details of human religions, especially when I know they’re completely mythological.

I might not be the best person to be answering his questions, but how do I explain that without first telling him I was born in another dimension?

I’d hoped to ease him in to Earth’s history before dropping that information.

“It might be better if I give you some general background, and then you can follow up with questions?” I make it a question so he’ll know he still has control of this conversation, and he nods.

“Okay.” I stop, considering where to start. “Okay. There are two planes of existence. The physical plane, where we are now, and the spiritual plane.”

“Do you mean heaven?” There’s a heavy dose of skepticism in his voice, and I remember that Wiccans don’t believe in an afterlife.

“No, not in the sense you mean. The spiritual plane is where souls go when their lives here come to an end. They can stay there as long or as short as they like, and it’s essentially an existence similar to this, only unencumbered by any physical form or being.”

His eyes narrow. “And when they don’t want to stay there anymore?”

I shrug. “They come back to the physical plane and a new life here.”

“So… reincarnation.” Stiffly, he takes a seat in the room’s lone armchair. I’ve never seen anyone sit in it before, not even Marge. Jared prefers the plush couch.

Another message I’m being sent.

Undeterred, I sit at the end of the couch closest to him. “Yes. An eternal soul is a wonderful thing and cycles endlessly between the planes.”

He gives a curt nod, and I take that as encouragement.

“Both planes—and all of existence—are made up of and connected by the life force. It’s an aetheric field that?—”

“Magic,” he interrupts. “You’re talking about magic. The energy I use when…”

“Yes. It’s in every blade of grass, drop of water, molecule of air. It ties everything together.” I feel like I’m on more solid ground here, since what I’m saying feeds into his religious beliefs. Except… “It’s also sentient.”

His brows shoot up. “What?”

“Not in the sense that it can talk”—though it’s proven to have a knack for getting its message across—“but it’s… it’s the awareness of life.” I can’t think of another way to explain it.

Jared waits, so I move on.

“Because people are people and we all sometimes need to look to someone for guidance, the life force elects leaders on both planes.”

“It elects them?”

“Invests them with power,” I add. “Makes it so that their people instinctively recognize who they are and feel secure in their presence. These leaders are…” I flounder.

Eventually he’s going to find out I’m one of the leaders selected by the life force, so what I say now might impact his decisions about our relationship.

But I promised the truth. “They’re the connection between the life force and the people.”

He fidgets. “That’s a lot of power. What happens if one of these leaders lets it go to their head?”

The very thought makes me sick to my stomach.

I could never . “The life force doesn’t choose people who have the capacity to do that.

But also, investiture is rarely for life.

Usually a person is selected for the qualities their people need at that time, and when those needs are met, the mantle of leadership moves to the next person. ”

That seems to intrigue him, and I can actually see the moment he restrains his curiosity. “What does all this have to do with the demons I saw tonight? And the werewolves?”

“Shifters,” I correct. “The background is important because it shows that demons cannot possibly be what you were taught they were. Modern humanity and religions have taken names and words and twisted them to mean things they don’t.”

He gives a short, bitter laugh. “Okay, that fits with my experience.”

The need to hug him rises, but I doubt he’d welcome it.

“Demon is one such word,” I continue. “Demons aren’t evil, or whatever it is that’s said.

They’re a species just as native to this planet as humans, and most of them live similar lives.

The horns, along with a denser muscle mass, allow them to travel by teleportation. ”

Jared’s jaw drops. “Now you’re fucking with me.”

I shake my head. “No. You draw on the life force to do magic. Demons can’t do that, but they have an innate magic of their own that expresses itself via teleportation.” Suddenly, an idea comes to me. A way to maybe put him more at ease. “Would you like a demonstration?”