Hush (Witches & Warlocks Book 2)

By: R. M. Webb

Chapter One





My name is Zoe Tate and there was a time when I couldn’t speak. I’ve found my voice now and I know I should be grateful ‘cause that’s everything I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember. Except I’m not grateful. Not completely. Sure, I can speak, but I have to be very careful with what I say because my words are dangerous. And if that sounds melodramatic then that’s a-ok because I’m not exaggerating even one little bit.

Turns out, I’m not your typical introvert. Or I wasn’t your typical introvert. Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever actually was an introvert. The reason I couldn’t speak in the past had nothing to do with my personality type and everything to do with a series of spells put on me to keep me from knowing what I was.

Or am.

Shit.

I’m still struggling with how to word all this.

It’s all so new, you see.

I guess it’s best to use present tense. The spells kept me from knowing what I am. And what I am is a witch. I know, it sounds crazy. Believe me, it took quite a bit of convincing for me to believe it and I’m the one who had to live through all the crazy shit that finally helped me accept the truth. Magic is real. And I’m magic. How’s that truth for ya?

So, anyway, I used to think I was painfully shy, just this silly girl who wanted to speak but couldn’t because I over thought things, or I worried too much about how people would see me. It always felt like my words got stuck behind some barrier in my throat. Or my head. Or my heart. I was never sure which.

Thing is, that’s exactly what was happening. My words got stuck behind a barrier. Except, that barrier didn’t come from me, it came from a spell my best friend, Becca, put on me. Well, a series of spells, actually.

Magic dampened? Check

Afraid to speak? Check

Hard for other people to notice me? Check

Desperate to please my best friend? Check

I spent my whole life frustrated with myself for being so broken. Speak, Zoe. You know what you want to say, just say it. I can’t tell you how many times I had conversations like that with myself, mostly while blushing a furious and unflattering red and fidgeting with anything I could get my hands on, always while berating myself for being so broken.

But it turns out it wasn’t a matter of me being broken at all. All the times I hated myself for not being normal? Ya. Not my fault.

Forgive me if I sound a little bitter.

Becca hid my magic from me and I still don’t know why. I mean, I know she did it on an order from someone really high up the food chain in the whole magical underworld governing body. Yep. That’s right. Magical underworld governing body. Such a thing exists. But I still don't know why she got the order.

But the whole thing backfired on Becca because now my magic is awake. And the crazy thing is, I seem to have all the magic. Some witches get some form of light magic. Some get some form of dark magic. Some - like Becca - get this kind of neutral magic.

Me?

I can do it all. Except I’m not supposed to let anyone know about that because that’s some kind of big scary deal that somehow makes me a big scary deal. I mean, like, if I get upset I end up losing control of my magic and killing people. That kind of big scary deal. Noah says not to let anyone know about all the magic I have access to and I trust him. There was a brief time when I didn’t. You know, the time when I figured out he knew what I was but hadn’t told me about it yet, but I’ve realized how silly it was for me to hold that against him. What did I expect him to do? Hey there. My name’s Noah. And you are? Oh ya, and by the way, you’re a witch.

Ha.

‘Cause that’d go over so well.

Because I’m kind of a magical time bomb, they’ve got me holed up in Windsor Manor, this place I like to think of as a halfway house for the magically confused. It’s like a boarding school mixed with a reform school mixed with a hospital and I don’t know if I love it here or if I hate it here.

I love learning how to work magic. It’s like … I don’t know … finally getting to be myself after years of pretending to be something I’m not. Or I guess I should say being forced to be something I’m not. Each time I learn a new spell or find a new way to use my magic, it’s like I become more of the person I always thought I was supposed to me. More of what I was destined to be. How cool is that? I mean for real? Getting to grow into the person I was born to be? It doesn’t get much better than that.

Also By R. M. Webb

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