Patreon Extra: Mel & Noah Meet (Mel's POV)

A bit later than I expected, but I've been busy with Warlock 3, so I trust you'll forgive me a few days. :)

Enjoy. :)


MELAINA AND NOAH MEET

A Warlock: Book 1 Short

Daniel Kensington

© 2025 Kensington, All Rights Reserved

This story is canon and depicts the events of Noah meeting Melaina for the first time. These events were portrayed in Warlock: Book 1, but this short is from Melaina’s point of view.

Note: This story contains information about Melaina which could be considered a spoiler for future books.

Melaina focused her will to a fine point and eased a bit of power into the gem slowly.

This was a bit of an experiment, to see if she could bind the flaws such that the sapphire, not a perfect specimen, could still be used in an artifact of some kind without shattering.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have more appropriate stones, nor that she couldn’t afford the quality such magic required — she was simply curious if it could be done.

Diamonds she’d already proven the technique with, as well as rubies, but the sapphires were proving troublesome for some reason.

Melaina?

“A moment, dear, this is a bit delicate.”

’Tis of some importance.

Melaina allowed her power to dissipate, despite the small crack it caused in the gem, and turned to her workroom door.

Felicity had been her constant companion for enough years that, seeing Melaina involved in her work, she wouldn’t pursue something that wasn’t truly important — now, depending on how far the other witch had allowed herself to sink into her preferred form of a cat at any particular time, they might have a discussion about the relativity of some importances. That Felicity had fallen back to the speech patterns of her youth to use the antiquated “’tis” spoke to it being something Melaina would likely agree was urgent.

“Yes, dear?”

I’ve something you’ve a need to see.

Melaina raised her eyebrows. “It’s not another rat, is it, dear?”

That was once … and it was quite large.

Felicity sounded a bit hurt that Melaina didn’t give her credit for that. She’d killed the rat without any magic at all, which she seemed rather proud of.

“I was suitably impressed, dear, but once was quite enough.”

It is not a rat.

Melaina stood and followed the black cat, white spots running down her left side, up the stairs from her basement workroom to their townhome’s main floor.

You’ll need to summon a carriage.

That gave Melaina some pause — Felicity was well aware of what an automobile was. She was no stranger to the current world. Why, just last week, she’d spent a considerable sum on something called a GPU for her computer — not that Melaina begrudged her the cost, they had far more than they would ever need, but she honestly hadn’t been able to tell the difference when Felicity excitedly showed her what it could do.

“Very well.”

Melaina retrieved her phone from its box on a table near the door.

“Where are we going?”

Felicity gave her an address and Melaina typed it in, frowning a little as she saw the location.

“That is some distance, dear. Have you been roaming so far?”

The tip of her friend’s tail flicked in the cat equivalent of a shrug.

I wander where the path and my feet bid me go.

“Well, I could wish you’d wander into nicer neighborhoods — our driver may balk at this destination.”

  *

“You’ll wait, please,” Melaina told the driver.

“How long?” the driver asked, looking around the dark streets, barely lit by those streetlamps still working.

Melaina sighed, there was a time when such an instruction would be met with a nod and a “yes, mum,” but those courtesies were long past. Nor did she wish to risk the driver leaving and having to summon another — something which might not be so easy in this area.

She reached into her purse and withdrew a bill, then tore it in half and handed one half to the driver.

“Until I return, yes?”

“You’ve got ten minutes.”

Felicity, sitting on her shoulder and hidden from the driver’s sight by a glamour, chortled.

You truly thought that would suffice?

Melaina waited until she was on the sidewalk and the car’s door closed before responding.

“I saw it in a film once.” She shrugged, then tapped the car’s hood as she passed, releasing a bit of mana. The engine died. “Now, where is this thing you insist on showing me?”

Felicity hopped down to the sidewalk as the driver turned his engine over and over again to no avail.

This way, if you please.

Felicity led her down the street to an alleyway, then into the shadows there.

Melaina followed her, detecting the traces of a strong glamour she recognized as Felicity’s work, as well as a strong residue of someone else’s mana. A moment later the glamour dissolved and Melaina was left peering down at a dead body — a man, likely mundane, with a battered, flattened face and an even flatter forehead. Blood pooled around his head and bits of skull and worse poked through the battered flesh.

“Your work?”

“Pfft!”

As though I’d leave a body behind.

“You did say you wanted to show me something, dear — I wasn’t suggesting you couldn’t clean up after yourself.” Melaina sighed. “If not this, then what?”

The warlock.

Melaina’s eyes came up to follow Felicity’s gaze and saw another figure lying in the shadowed alleyway, automatically altering her vision to ignore mana and magic as she saw the boy had no shields. It was simply rude to look too closely at another witch, or warlock, especially one unconscious and so vulnerable.

“What on earth is a warlock doing here?”

Young and untested, he was set upon and fought to preserve himself.

“You saw the battle and didn’t assist?”

Melaina found that hard to believe — Felicity would have assisted even a mundane boy under attack, much less a young warlock. She rose and approached the warlock.

I came upon the scene after, spied the warlock, cast the glamour, and hastened home to fetch you.

Melaina paused and thought of the distance.

“Felicity, have you been using the subways again?”

It speeds my travels.

She examined the boy’s face, then ran her eyes over his body.

“No injuries.” Melaina glanced at the dead man, noting the smear of blood on the bricks nearby. “Telly, do you think? It would take some power to throw a fully grown man into a wall like that.”

I caught no glimpse of the magic at its work.

Melaina pursed her lips and sighed.

In truth, she wanted nothing to do with this. A warlock, alone on the city streets? In this area of the city? Nothing good could be involved with this.

“A runaway, perhaps.”

Not that she could blame the boy for that — the Families had reached the point of absurdity with how they kept their warlocks.

Melaina sighed. She’d glimpsed hardly any mana in the boy before turning off that sight. If she left him here, even if she immediately alerted someone on the Council, he might well perish before other help came — they’d likely blame her for that. If she took him to someone on the Council and he wasn’t from a Family, then she’d be handing him over to those who’d take no care of him. If she took him to her home, then whoever’s he was would suspect she meant to keep him, no matter how soon she could return him.

“There’s no winning this. Whatever we do, the Families will take issue with.”

When we first crossed paths, you chose always with only what you deemed right in mind, with no heed to such things.

“Times have changed, Felicity. Not nearly for the better, but they have changed.”

And have you?

Melaina stooped to grasp and carry the boy, casting a glamour to make it appear she carried a large bag, and using some of her mana to enhance her strength to bear the load.

“I should never have allowed you to study philosophy, dear. No good ever comes of such things.”

Melaina eyed the cat, her oldest friend, as they returned to their ride. There was something off about all this — too much coincidence to credit. Yet she’d seen odder things in her years.

Their driver saw them approach from his place near his car’s open hood.

“Car’s broke,” he said. “You’ll have to call another ride.”

“Really? Just let me put my burden down and I’ll assist you.”

The driver snorted and returned to examining his engine while she opened the rear door and carefully slid the young warlock inside, then returned to the driver and attempted to appear as though she had some interest in automobile engines.

“What appears to be the problem?” she asked.

“If I knew that it’d be fixed — look, call another ride while I call a tow truck. I’m done for the night.”

“I see.” Melaina truly had no idea how these things worked, she’d simply instructed all the moving parts to … not. She reached into the compartment for something that looked like it might cause problems if it were loose and pressed it firmly in the direction she thought such a thing should go, releasing her spell with the touch. “Try it now.”

The driver stared at her.

“With haste, please? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

Melaina returned to the rear door and slid inside, holding the door open for Felicity to hop into her lap before closing it.

“Look, lady,” the driver said, leaning in through the open driver’s door. “The car ain’t working.” He tossed the half bill she’d given him back to her. “Now get out.”

He took a step back toward his open hood, when Melaina gestured at car’s dash, releasing a tiny bit of mana.

The car’s windshield wipers began swiping back and forth.

Melaina sighed. “Felicity?”

It is the larger button just to the right of the wheel — and the brake must be held down when you press it. The brake is the flat pedal to the left of the upright one near the driver’s feet.

“So complicated,” Melaina muttered, gesturing again and nodding with satisfaction as the car’s engine started.

She truly did miss horses.

  *

Willow bark and devil’s claw for pain, mugwort and elderflower to rouse his magic — these I comprehend. But wherefore wormwood and rue?

Melaina waited a moment before answering, imbuing the last ingredients with the appropriate intent and mana, then added them to the bubbling sauce pan.

“The boy’s actions dragged me out of my studies, do you think I’ll make this pleasant for him?”

Ah, so it is vengeance, then.

“I prefer to think of it as a lesson in natural consequences.”

Melaina poured the brew into a stoppered bottle, then went upstairs to the room she’d put the boy in. She stood for a moment, studying him.

Dark hair, tousled by sleep, and a kind face, yet with a certain firmness to the jaw.

“Too long to myself,” she muttered, feeling a stirring she hadn’t felt in decades, if not more. “I should get out more if I’m feeling such things toward a warlock still a babe.”

I can point you to some chatrooms, should you feel the urge.

“No, thank you, dear — the glimpses I’ve had of your hobbies are quite enough.”

Felicity flicked her tail in the cat equivalent of a shrug.

It fills the hours and offers some measure of satisfaction.

“No doubt.” Melaina unstoppered the potion. “Well, time to wake him up and deal with his Family.”

I’ll be in my chamber. I’ve messages that await my reply.

Felicity padded from the room and Melaina hovered over the boy.

“Wake up.”

The boy stirred and Melaina put the vial to his lips and tilted it.

“There you go, lad, now drink this and sit up.”

“Gah! Awg!”

“Right, then,” Melaina said. “Who are you and who must I call to come get you?”

The boy looked around desperately, as though to —

Oh, no you don’t! Melaina thought.

“You spit that on my floor and I’ll dose you again.”

“That stuff is nasty,” the boy said after he’d swallowed, “how’s it supposed to make me feel better?”

Melaina looked at the bottle. “Wasn’t supposed to make you feel better. It was supposed to make you sit up and do as I say, so you’ll not get another dose.” She tucked the small bottle into a pocket. “Done its job, I think.”

The boy groaned again.

“Now, who are you?” Melaina asked.

The sooner she had his Family name, the sooner she could call them and shoo the boy out her front door.

“My name’s Noah. Did you bring me here from the alley? Thank you … I guess. That guy was trouble.” The boy winced as though at a troubling memory. “I mean, until he ran away.”

“And not at all bludgeoned to death with a brick wall?” Melaina chuckled. “No need to dissemble, you’re in friendly company. Though I’d expect you to know another witch when you see one.” She laid the back of her hand against his forehead. “Did you strike your own —”

Melaina jerked her hand back, shaking it. She’d felt the lightest brush of the boy’s resonants against her shields and quickly strengthened them. She normally let them slack inside her home’s more powerful wards. Even with that, though, a warlock so young shouldn’t have been able to so much as dent them, yet his resonants had been sliding through those shields as though they were nothing. That spoke to a strong will — odd in one so young.

“None of that now!” She frowned. “What Family taught you such manners?”

“Which?”

“Really?” Melaina sniffed — nearly killed himself using too much mana and he’s correcting grammar? “Very well — which Family taught you it was acceptable to pull mana from someone you’d only just met?” She stood up and glared — could the boy truly not recognize her — or at least her power? And where had his own strength come from — true, her shields had been at the lesser strength she maintained at home, behind her wards, but the force with which he’d sought after her power was a bit shocking. “What are you even thinking? Do you seriously think you could mark me?”

That would be a bit of a complication she didn’t need — no Family would believe she hadn’t intentionally marked him, and they’d be furious at their loss.

“Ma’am, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. The last thing I remember, I was walking through an alley to get to the shelter and some guy tried to mug me.”

Melaina sighed. Apparently the boy was either stupid or thought she was.

“I apologize if I was rude,” he said, “and deeply regret any disrespect or offense.”

Her gaze softened. That was certainly better — though he was looking at her as though she was likely to incinerate him at any moment. Still, fear was better than him thinking he could hide what he was from her.

“Well, you did just have a rather bad experience, I suppose,” Melaina said. “Nearly killed yourself using so much mana — not even enough left to keep your shields up — so I can understand the instinct to pull some from me.” She started to pat his hand, then stopped — no, he was still so weak he might try again. “Don’t worry, I’ve tried to be polite and not look at you too closely, but there should be enough ambiance for you to restore your shields, at least. Now, who’re your people? We’ll get you right home and say no more of it.”

Yes, the sooner this warlock was out of her home and back where he belonged, the better. The more she thought about what had just happened, the more she wanted to see an end to this and send the boy on his way. It wasn’t just that he’d been able to start sliding through her shields, it was that she thought her shields had been parting to allow just that — as though welcoming the boy’s advances. And that was something she hadn’t felt in far too long.

“Um, no need for that — I can just go?” he suggested, starting to sit up.

“No.” She’d had quite enough of this, and she had her own studies to return to. “I’ll not have your Family up in arms for me letting you wander off again — bad enough I’ve brought you to my home. Now, your name?”

“Noah Ashe, ma’am.”

Melaina frowned — she couldn’t think of an Ashe Family. Perhaps from the West Coast? Or even Canada? He had no accent that might indicate he came from one of the European Families. Possibly one of the independents?

“I don’t know the Ashes,” she said. “Is it a small Family?”

“I don’t have a family, ma’am — I was in foster care and just aged out today — yesterday, I guess.”

She snorted. Still he was maintaining this charade?

“A likely story — so you’ve run away, then.” Melaina sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “I know the Families can be a bit stifling, but running off isn’t the answer. You’ll only get picked up by a rival Family and they’ll have to hide you away, which will be even worse. There’s no room for you to make your own way these days and you should know that.”

No, enough of this coddling.

Melaina stood up.

“If you won’t tell me, then I’ll look for myself. Your resonants may tell me which line you come from if nothing else.”

The boy clutched at his blanket, as though such a thing would block him from her sight, and she eased her vision so that she could see his mana. If he hadn’t restored his own shields by now, he had no one to blame but —

Melaina felt her eyes widen and body tense.

Three resonants? She blinked, certain she must be mistaken, but the three remained. Dim, with only what mana he might pull in from his environment in the short time since the she’d found him in alleyway, but certainly there, glowing yellow with the light of refined mana.

A trinitara?

How?

She thought, quickly — there were no trinitara warlocks coming of age within the Families. The major Families were quick to brag when one was identified, and nearly always invited her to the celebrations — she’d made her gifts enough to ensure that. The independents? She’d made her interest clear there, as well, and even if they kept such rare things secret, they knew she could be trusted.

Even though she’d long ago given up hope, she did still search out each new trinitara in the unlikely event she could trace his line back to her own long-dead family, no matter how convoluted the path might be.

Melaina quashed the spike of hope that ran through her. Though she still looked, she’d seen no sign of her ancestry in those she’d examined — it had been no more than rote motion for centuries.

But now? An unmarked, trinitara warlock, newcome to his power, and claiming to be from no Family at all?

No, she’d not let herself feel that hope again — but where had he come from, if not the Families? The outcasts or those who wandered? Trinitara were even rarer for them, though it would explain keeping him secret.

Those possibilities complicated things even more — for a Family, she knew who to call, but for the outcasts, worse, the wanderers? It wasn’t as though she could take out some advertising to find who’d lost the most valuable thing they’d had in centuries.

Oh, but this complicated things even more — immeasurably so. If the Families found out about him, it wouldn’t matter where he came from, they’d drag him to a compound and take him as theirs — and if the boy’d thought where he came from was bad enough to run away, then he’d soon discover that the frying pan was far more desirable than where his leap had taken him.

She needed a moment to think on this and where her involvement might lead.

“The washroom’s there,” Melaina said, pointing to a door on the wall opposite the bed, backing toward the door and laying her hand on the knob behind her. “I’ll wait for you in the kitchen — three floors down.”

She opened the door, slipped through, and closed it behind her.

  *

Melaina made her way downstairs to the kitchen and began preparing a breakfast for the boy, all the while her mind was racing to come to terms with what she’d just seen.

An unmarked trinitara?

How long had it been since such a thing?

Long enough for the boy to be in danger, she knew, and he’d not come from the Families, even the Independents — so from the Outcasts? Or even the wanderers — those the Families called ferals?

Or…

No. The boy couldn’t be of her line.

Is it truly so unlikely?

Melaina jerked her gaze to the cat now sitting on the kitchen’s island counter.

“I said nothing,” Melaina said, wondering if she and her companion had been together so long the other witch could be in her mind without an invitation.

Felicity’s tail twitched.

The boy’s a trinitara — the way of your thinking was clear enough.

Melaina pulled a sheet pan and wire rack from a cabinet, then a package of bacon from the refrigerator, and laid out several slices on the rack.

More shall be called for, I think.

“Do you have some knowledge the boy has a liking for bacon?”

Another tail twitch.

Bacon is fair good, and he’ll need strength to recover — it takes no deep knowing to guess what his desires will be.

“Well, extra bacon will be the only desire he sees satiated here,” Melaina said, adding more bacon to the pan.

Felicity licked a paw and rubbed it over her ears and face.

Your thoughts walking that path only shows my meaning true — you’ve hungers of your own.

“My hungers are not a concern of yours.”

Melaina slid the pan into the oven.

“Oh,” she said, hoping to change the subject. Her “hungers,” as Felicity put it, were well-banked … at least when nothing reminded her of such things. “The oven’s begun to heat unevenly, could you see to it?”

Aye, surely.

“Thank you.”

Melaina could enchant an object well enough, but the odd combination of mundane physics and magic Felicity had worked on her stove were beyond her without more study of those physics than she cared for.

A bowl, whisk, and flour took the sheet pan’s place on the counter. Melaina returned the bacon to the refrigerator, then gathered the rest of what she’d need.

“Pancakes, then,” she said. “They’re filling.”

Batter made, she opened the oven and pulled out the now cooked bacon — at least the time enchantments were still working.

“Do you see?” she asked, taking the sheet pan to the island so Felicity could see it, and pointing out the unevenness of the cooking at one end. “Even with a single pan.”

If the heat isn’t coupling properly with the pocket space — the boundary between the oven’s mundane chamber and the expanded space may be thinning. I’ll strengthen the enchantments overnight.

“Thank you,” Melaina said, flicking a finger at the uncooked bits and sending mana out to increase the temperature of the air around them until they matched the rest of the pan.

One wonders why you bother with the oven at all.

Melaina sniffed, starting the coffee maker and pulling a carafe of orange juice from the refrigerator.

“It’s satisfying.”

At least you find something in your life such.

“Enough, Felicity,” Melaina said, sternly. “At my age, such things are far less important than at yours.”

Your scent speaks otherwise.

Melaina took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll thank you keep your nose out of that particular bit of my business, thank you.”

She returned to the stove and started on the first pancake.

I shall return to my room for a time.

Melaina said nothing and a moment later heard the jingling bell and thumps of paw pads on the stairs.

She sighed. It had been a very long time — since before she’d met Felicity, in fact — but what was she to do? The imaginary worlds Felicity sought acceptance and satisfaction in held no appeal to her. Certainly no Family would offer her one of their warlocks, for she’d surely mark and bind any warlock alive today — if nothing else, her long life had honed her will to an enviable stubbornness.

She had no desire to be a high priestess again, in any case. Once was enough, and she hadn’t even intended that — it was simply that the marking hadn’t gone as planned. That was when she realized she’d reached a point where no warlock would be able to stand against her will — and that she’d be high priestess of any coven she tried to join. Other, less permanent, solutions simply weren’t to her taste.

True, she could engage a fully-bound warlock without fear of either of them being marked, but that was … pale. It would satisfy the physical, but lacked so much more. Warlocks had their covens to deal with and, while the Family warlocks often engaged with the Family’s unbound witches for both balance and to harvest additional mana, what she’d heard of it made her think more of an assembly line than any true care or connection.

No, if she wanted the casual, she’d visit mundanes — her outings into the mundane world made her confident that she was still considered attractive by them, despite her age. Yet there was still nothing she desired there. Either casually dismiss lover after lover, ending things before they noticed how different she was from them? How she didn’t age? Hide her power every moment she was with them? Care for them even as things ended, only to watch them age and die so quickly?

Melaina shivered. All things she’d experienced enough of in her life to know she never wished to again.

What she wanted, longed for, was something she’d long accepted she couldn’t have.

To be part of a coven, not its leader. To stand beside a strong warlock. To have true sisters once more.

She adjusted the oven’s heat and returned the bacon so that it would keep warm, then added a finished pancake to a plate and put that in the oven to wait as well.

Just as she poured the batter for another pancake, she heard footsteps on the stairs.

Melaina pulled the bacon from the oven while she flipped the pancake and set the latter on a rack where it wouldn’t damage her counter tops if it was still too hot, then turned to greet the boy and nearly staggered.

The look on his face was one she recognized from the past — hunger and desire, an almost animal-like need to possess.

More than his, her own response shocked her.

An aching void, deep in her core, suddenly filled with feelings.

Lust, overflowing even her ability to store it so rapidly, and bound with so much more — Desire, Longing, and, shocking her even more, the shining grey threads of Control. What mana she shed seemed to have no interest in anything but the warlock who stood before her. His starving resonants were sucking in every bit of ambient mana in the room and what she shed formed almost a solid line between them.

Melaina reached out to steady herself with a hand on the cabinet and locked her knees, willing herself to fight the urges she had — too numerous to name, but the worst, the one that shocked her the most, was the urge to kneel and feel his hand on her hair. To belong once more.

She quickly poured that new mana into her shields, strengthening them so that any mana she might shed went there instead of the environment, then poured mana from all her resonants into the building’s wards — they’d be a bit stronger than needed for a few days, but it was the only thing she could think of to quickly use enough to get herself back into balance.

“We’ll be working on your shields first, dear,” she said, turning around and transferring bacon to a plate, then muttered, “And my own, as well, it seems. I’ve gotten too lazy around the house, no doubt.”

Then she barely had time to tell the boy her name before her erstwhile roommate returned.

And won’t she have something to say about my reaction to him? Melaina thought.

  *

“Felicity?” Melaina heard the boy say from behind her.

“It means ‘good fortune,’” she explained, turning from the stove to bring him a plate of scrambled eggs. She set that before him and began scratching behind Felicity’s ears. Witch or no, she did relish physical attention as much as any cat.

Felicity purred and rubbed against Mel’s fingers.

“But…” Noah sputtered. “What … how…”

“It’s a name, dear, most things have one.”

“But … that’s Felicity! I know her!”

“How’s that?”

“She’s … she was the neighborhood cat at my foster home. I’ve seen her … two, maybe three, times a week for the last five years. I saw her yesterday! How is she here?”

Melaina stopped scratching Felicity’s ears and narrowed her eyes.

“Where was this?”

Noah told her the neighborhood and her eyes narrowed even more.

“Felicity Anne Alden, what is it you’ve been up to?”

Felicity sat, stuck one hind leg straight up in the air, and began grooming herself inappropriately.

“None of that, young lady! I want an explanation.”

What?

Melaina focused her thoughts on the cat.

What me no whats! Melaina demanded. What’ve you been about?

Watching.

Felicity’s thoughts were steady and calm, quite unlike Melaina’s own.

How could Felicity have known about the boy for years, yet not told her?

Watching what? Melaina demanded.

Him.

That’s no answer!

Felicity paused in her grooming to curl one lip over sharp, white teeth, before resuming.

Simple enough to figure, for any not yet slipping into dotage.

Dotage? Young lady, I’m as sharp as I ever —

Not if this leaves you confounded.

“That’s it,” Melaina said, pointing to the stairs. “Go to your room — you’re grounded!”

She could almost hear the chuckle in the cat’s mental voice.

Of course — with the boy finally here, there’ll be no time for me to wander.

Finally? Finally?! Why, you little —

“And no internet!” Melaina called after her friend.

  *

Melaina sighed, then went about the tedious process of explaining the world behind the Veil to one not raised there, something she’d not had to do for … more time than she wished to think about. There were any number of things she hadn’t had to do for that long — and others she’d not been able to, something her body was still sending her creaky, half-slumbering reminders about — and amusement at the boy’s reactions failed to amuse her enough to make up for it.

Had her heart been in it, she’d have spun him upside down from the start and seen if he could come to terms with his new world before passing out. Even the phantom fireball she tossed at his face seemed an afterthought that brought her no joy.

Her thoughts, instead, were on why Felicity hadn’t told her about the boy earlier — years earlier, apparently, for she’d no reason to doubt his word that he’d known Felicity for half a decade.

Shrugging that off, Melaina answered some of his more annoying misinformation about witches, then told the boy to follow her and led him down into her cellars to the third level where she had her most basic circle. Identifying his resonants and teaching him to raise his own shields would make both of them more comfortable and help avoid … unfortunate interactions.

How long had it been since she’d reacted to someone as strongly as she had to … Noah — she should start thinking about him by name, now she’d decided he’d be staying here until it was safe for him to go on his own.

That would take time — years, perhaps, until he could form a full coven of his own and become strong enough to defend himself and his witches from, at least, the casual predations of the Families.

Melaina gently touched the silver circle embedded in the cushioned mats that lined the cellar’s floor and brought its wards to life — sighing as she stretched and caught the direction of Noah’s gaze.

Goddess, but young men are predictable — well, I am not going to start wearing one of those horrid bras. He’ll just have to get used to it.

“Should I stretch too?” Noah asked.

“Only if you like — I’m simply getting comfortable.”

  *

Melaina fought the urge to groan and rub her temples.

She’d forgotten over the years just how annoying young men could be.

They’d managed to get him to see mana, at least, even if his interest was more in her chest. Then she’d tried to emulate every type of mana generation she reasonably could — all for nothing, as none of them seemed to strike his resonants particularly hard.

“Hmph,” Melaina said after a time. “I’m running out of what I can reasonably fake.” She took a deep breath. “There are a couple more I can try, but it will be harder.”

“Why?”

“They’re my own, so I’ll have to suppress storing them. None of a witch’s own resonants are shed — unless she’s experiencing something very intense and she’s unable to store it all.”

“Oh.”

“Now a witch’s resonants are a rather personal thing, Noah. Even mine aren’t widely known, so if you learn one of mine, will you keep it a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you. Give me a moment. Alright —”

Melaina rapped her knuckles on the floor, just hard enough to be painful, and tensed in a physical manifestation of what she was doing internally — trying to mentally squeeze her Pain resonant in such a way that that it wouldn’t accept the new mana she was generating. It wasn’t the sort of thing witches typically did, and she suspected she was one of the few witches in the world able to, but it was quite handy when one overestimated what one could contain.

Goddess knew her resonants — or bags as the boy had called them — didn’t need to grow any larger.

She suppressed a grin at how flustered Noah had been when he’d referred to her stores as bags and how big they were, then made the connection between that and what he’d been staring at all morning. If nothing else, having him here with her might prove entertaining — he did flush a quite lovely shade of pink.

Adorable when you thought about it.

Which we will not be doing, she told herself forcefully.

“Yeah!” Noah said. “Definitely that one. A lot stronger sensation.”

Melaina was silent for a moment.

“Are you certain?” she asked, rubbing her knuckles.

“Yes, why?”

“That was Pain,” Melaina said. “Physical Pain — there are other kinds.”

Well, the boy wouldn’t like having that one, for a certainty — she rather doubted he was interested in the sorts of things that made it more palatable.

“So, what? I have to get hurt to work magic?”

“No, Noah,” Melaina said, “you don’t need to feel the pain. The witch does.”

“Oh.”

Oh, the look on his face! Such utter innocence, she thought. He’s not even an inkling that such things can be more.

“Don’t think it’s so terrible, dear. Witches find better ways of filling their resonants than you might think at first, especially once the coven-bond begins working on them. But Pain is a difficult one — we’ll discuss possibilities later, if you like. For now, we should probably get some lunch and pick this up again later.”

“I’d kind of like to check the other two,” he said.

“My other two?”

“Yeah. I mean, it would be good to know, at least, right?”

Melaina took a deep breath. “Very well. It’s doubtful we share more than the one, but —”

Might as well give Lust a try, though the odds of them having two in common were high.

She frowned, irritated with herself as she sought out the proper thoughts to generate that mana.

She’d been alive enough years to have any number of things that might kindle a bit of Lust, but her eyes kept returning to Noah.

His unruly hair, innocent grin, and…

Enough, she told herself. I’ve neither had nor needed a warlock since before the boy’s grandmother was born. And likely never will again.

That thought bothered her — more than it should and more than it had for decades, maybe centuries. She’d reached a point where there was virtually no way a warlock could bind her to a coven — she’d wind up high priestess again and that would be … distasteful.

And I certainly shouldn’t be thinking such things of a warlock just come into his power.

It wasn’t the age difference — after a certain point such things became meaningless. She had so many years over the oldest warlock alive that the additional few to reach Noah’s age were no more than a blink.

No, it was the gap in knowledge that made it questionable.

Noah knew nothing of the world behind the Veil, so couldn’t possibly understand what forming a coven entailed.

Why was she even thinking this? She should be concentrating on shedding enough Lust to prove that wasn’t one of Noah’s resonants, not thinking about … well, things that would have her shedding quite a bit of that.

That particular resonant wasn’t one she’d have to pinch shut to shed the mana, since it was already quite full — a result of her surprise reaction when he’d come into the kitchen.

Oh, bother, she thought, realizing her thoughts weren’t going to focus on anything but what was in front of her.

Against some part of her that was offering its better judgment, she let her eyes roam over him. A haircut was in order, and certainly a new wardrobe, but, all in all.

Melaina cut off those thoughts as a stream of pink mana fairly shot from her to Noah.

“Wow,” Noah said. “That one too.”

Melaina was silent and still for a long time, pondering.

Two resonants in common? With a trinitara?

This was coincidence in extreme.

“Um, so what was that one?” Noah asked finally.

“That was Lust,” Melaina said, then nearly laughed at the look on the boy’s face.

“So —”

“Don’t puff your ego up too soon, dear,” she told him, chuckling. “It doesn’t have to be you the witch lusts after.”

Or at least she doesn’t have to tell you that.

“Oh.”

“Though it is one of the easier ones to satisfy. Or, at least fill, if not satisfy.”

Another wave of red filled Noah’s face.

Why does teasing him please me so? I’ve met far more desirable warlocks, even if they were fully-bound, so why such a strong reaction to this one? Is it only that he’s … available?

Better to move on to other things and not dwell too much on this.

“So? Now can we have some lunch?” Melaina suggested.

“What about the other one? The grey one.”

“That one’s unlikely. Extremely so.”

“Why? Is it like a female-thing?”

“No, it’s not a ‘female-thing’.” Melaina groaned. “Fine, it’s quite impossible for you to have that resonant, but I suppose you won’t leave it alone if you don’t see for yourself.” She settled herself. “I’ll need you to take the lead in testing this one.”

“How?”

“Tell me to do something.”

“What?”

“Anything — something simple. Just tell me to do something. Firmly and with intent.”

“Um, okay. Raise your right hand, I guess?”

Well, that was certainly unattractive — her Zumba instructor spoke with more authority.

“Don’t ask, dear, tell.”

“Okay — raise your right hand.”

Melaina did, keeping her Control resonant from absorbing the little bit of mana such a silly command generated.

“Keep going, another one.” she said.

“Ah, scratch your nose.”

“Again,” Melaina told him, following his instructions.

“Clap your hands.”

“Should I be saying ‘Simon says’ — argh. That’s the strongest yet!”

“That’s imp … are you certain?”

It was impossible. She didn’t remember the name of the last warlock who’d had Control, but she did remember that the Council had forbidden his witches to conceive — something unheard of and she couldn’t imagine what the Goddess had thought of it. Idalia had certainly been horrified and it was likely only the efforts of the others that had kept Aveline from showing up at a Council session with switches in hand.

But all three? Mine? What does that mean?

Those were three that were so prevalent in her line they could almost be a signature.

No. Do not let your hopes be raised. It has been seven hundred years since the Death and no sign whatsoever. I searched the world and found nothing!

The resonants would explain part of the attraction — like called to like, after all, but the line? The line made demands.

“Yeah,” Noah said, still rubbing his skin where the mana had touched him. “Definitely. What was that?”

“Noah, how did you defend yourself in that alley?”

  *

Melaina settled into her bed, propped up by a pile of pillows. A cup of tea sat on the bedstand and she set her ebook reader beside her.

Felicity landed on the comforter with barely a sound, then climbed the pile of pillows to nestle herself above Melaina’s head.

“Do you plan on reading over my shoulder, dear?”

I’ve a book of my own in my room — paper, as it was meant to be.

“As you will.”

Melaina sipped her tea, then raised her book to begin an hour or so’s reading before sleep.

What will you do with him?

Melaina sighed and lowered her book.

“I believe you do that on purpose, dear.”

What?

“Wait until I’m engaged with something before speaking. It’s rather annoying.”

I speak when the words come to me.

“And not when you choose not to.”

You said you grasped the matter.

“I do. There’s no way I could have kept the boy safe for the half-decade since you found him. Not without keeping him a prisoner here. You were right not to tell me of him.”

I note you’ve left the other question unanswered.

Melaina sighed again.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “Find some way to keep him safe, teach him … try to find him enough witches to build a coven of his own. I’m sure we’ll figure it out in time.”

He is fair to look upon, do you not agree? And possessed of a certain charm in his naïveté.

“Felicity,” Melaina said in a warning tone.

She was certain where her friend was going with this and wanted none of it. Felicity was younger and had a young witch’s needs — true she was older than most witches by decades, even a century or two, but Melaina thought she’d aged … oddly.

I simply state what I see — you may think otherwise, if you like. Felicity paused. Do you?

“He is pleasing to the eye, I will allow.”

He is kind. And he is brave — I have seen him take his stand ’twixt the strong and those they would make suffer. His will holds fast.

“Dear, I’ve no need of you playing matchmaker for me.”

Your bed belies your words.

Melaina fought the sudden urge to grasp her friend by the scruff and shake her.

“My bed is my concern, young lady.”

And yet you show it none.

“No more — if you wish to sleep here, I welcome it, but no more talk of my concerns.”

I will speak no more of your bed.

“Thank you.”

He smells of your line.

Melaina froze.

Rose and hawthorn, a bit of myrrh.

“Felicity, please, I can’t —” Melaina had been fighting those thoughts all day. She felt Felicity’s cheek rubbing against her hair — something that would normally give her some comfort, but not in this. “I can’t hope. Please.”

Your line’s resonants. Your line’s scent. Your line’s will. ’Tis no cause for mere hope—’tis cause for certainty.

Melaina felt her chest tighten and her eyes burn.

Your line calls to you, Melaina, will you deny it?

“No,” Melaina said, setting her book aside and reaching for the switch on her bedside lamp.

She rolled over and jerked a pillow from her pile, part of her hoping that it would send her friend tumbling, but, of course, it did not. Felicity barely twitched as things resettled.

Melaina lay her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.

“I can’t,” she whispered, not entirely sure if she meant believe that Noah was of her line or the truth of her desires.

We shall see.