Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(56)



Who?

What?

Agreed?

They agreed!?

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Somehow, with no space to move in, he managed to get even closer.

“Wilding and I had an agreement before you moved to the UK. The Directors of the Institute and the Elders of le Société arranged it.” Yikes! “It was about how he and I would handle you and our involvement with you.”

Yikes Part Deux.

Handle me?

Aidan kept speaking. “And Wilding and I agreed to what the Elders and Directors decided.”

“Which was?” I prompted when he said no more.

“Well, for one thing, it didn’t include telling you what Wilding told you.”

Uh-oh.

“So, Ash isn’t fighting fair,” I concluded.

Sounded like him.

“The operative word, darling…”

Oo, “darling” again, “darling” in scary, dangerous, sexy voice too.

Eek!

“Is ‘fighting’.”

“Why is that the operative word?”

“Because, before, we’d decided to handle this situation like gentlemen, agreements and working cooperatively through our own particular organizations.”

“And now?” I asked.

“Now, I don’t feel very cooperative.”

Oh my.

“So, um… what now?”

I’d hoped he’d say something like, “This…” and ravish me (yes, I’m a slut, I know I’m a slut, at that delicious point, I didn’t care that I was a slut).

But he didn’t.

He just stood there, his body pressed against mine, and stared at me then got his face real close, so close his lips were nearly touching mine.

His eyes dropped to my mouth and he was so… very… close that I could see how thick and lush his lashes were.

Oh me, oh my… ohmeohmyoh.

“Now?” he whispered.

Great Mother Earth, I think I was about to have another Big O just listening to him and the look in his eyes made my knees buckle.

And my ni**les swell.

Yikes!

“Well, now… I take you home and then the games begin.”

* * * * *

And that was it.

He took Daphne and I home.

No ravishing.

Not even a birthday kiss.

I didn’t even get to finish my champagne.

And then he roared off.

In his BMW.

To let the games begin.

How scary is that?

I mean, what does that mean?

(I knew what it meant but, um, Yikes!)

* * * * *

By the way: Ash bought me a car.

Yes.

A Car.

A red Mini Cooper convertible with the cooler-than-cool “cooper” over the back, middle brake light.

It’s kickass.

It’s really “from the Elders” (okay, excuse me? so who are these Elders all of a sudden?) as I couldn’t be seen in Ole Purple after Ash shot at someone with a gun (seriously illegal in the United Kingdom, it’s not like this is South Central or even Deer Season Arkansas) while reversing down Marine Parade. The Elders feel Ash may have made a bit of a “scene” (no f**king kidding? – only front page of The Mercury) and Ole Purple won’t soon be forgotten.

Ash, personally, didn’t get me anything.

And, on top of that, he frowned on Daphne.

“The last thing you need is a cat,” he declared.

Hmm.

Let the games begin, indeed.

Holy Crap.

* * * * *

By the way, the test is tonight.

And I haven’t even studied.

16 May

Magical suspension lifted.

The W.C. can’t find Agatha Darling and since they now consider me “registered”, feel it may be too dangerous to my person to interfere with my training. (Great.)

The test wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done (not by a long shot) but no one struck me with lightning either.

But get this:

Am to be registered with the Council as:

Class: Sage, Level: Hazardous.

I mean, what’s that supposed to mean? Level: Hazardous?

* * * * *

This is unprecedented. Or so Mavis said, over and over again, to everyone (they were all awake and all at The Gables and all waiting for our return) at about four thirty in the morning –about six hours after I wanted to be in bed.

This is also further proof that I am The Mathilda not just A Mathilda.

So, even though I don’t exactly want the word to get out (as have enough troubles without verified Chosen One status announced to all and sundry), it’s to be printed in the monthly W.C. newsletter as a matter of record.

I’m f**ked.

In oh so many ways.

Of course, being classed as a Sage was B-I-G: Big.

True Sages were people like Prunella, who were three hundred years old and had seen it, done it and had about three billion t-shirts.

But since my magic was “off the scales” and they didn’t have anything else to class me, they put me at Sage.

The Lady didn’t seem too happy. (Gotta keep an eye on her.)

The W.C. is going to consider a new ranking system, of course, because even though I was officially a Sage, I was lacking the experience to be a “true Sage”.

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