Chapter Three

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Chapter Three

Journal Entry:

Back to school—I've lost track of how many I've attended now. Guess I'll find out soon enough if there's anything that'll make this one different from all the others. Here goes nothing.

***

It was my first day of school. I'd made it halfway through the day without having to really talk to anyone. Being the sullen loner was something I'd perfected long ago, and it usually kept most people at bay.

Lunch consisted of sitting under a tree, trying to avoid the silly giggles and laughter from the endless parade of idiotic girls trying to catch my attention. Pretending to be oblivious worked best, so I focused on pulling random blades of grass from the ground while biting into the apple in my hand.

It's not like I wasn't interested in girls—I definitely was. I was just tired of not having the chance to get to know the ones I liked before having to move. I already missed Amber. She 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 ever again.

My grumblings and thoughts consumed me. I hated running—despised constantly looking over my shoulder for him, always so close to being found out. It was totally messing up my life. Sixteen and only a sophomore? I should've been a junior. Hopefully, this time would be different.

I took another bite of my apple, redirecting my gaze away from the group of girls who were twittering together off to my left, focusing on a nearby set of doors that led from the gym to the quad.

That's when I saw her.

She stepped out of the doorway, 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 before.

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 petite form as she moved toward the cafeteria.

A light breeze caught her black hair, stirring it slightly away from her face as she smiled at her friend. The air carried the music of her laughter to me, and the high and low notes blended in perfect harmony in my mind. 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 her.

"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 before seeing the crestfallen look on my informant's face as she lifted her head to follow my gaze.

"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 turned 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—the one 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.

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