Witchling Summoned

ENTER THE HIGH WARLOCK

Sometime between midnight and three o'clock in the morning, Jade pushed herself up to a sitting position and raked several shaking fingers through her rumbled mess of hair. Her mane had somehow gotten tangled and knotted while she was unconscious. Come to think of it, why was she unconscious in the first place?

The last thing she remembered was holding her magic pencil in her hand, staring down at the final exam, when her daydream had gotten ahold of her and....

Oh, warlock's balls.

She remembered.

Anxiety settled just beneath her rib cage. Not good. Anxiety settling anywhere inside a fledgling witch was never a good thing. Particularly with Jade, because when she panicked, just about all of her witcherly learnings got muddled and confused and things just came out....

Wrong.

Perhaps... Perhaps that was what happened? How she'd gotten here?

No.

She remembered perfectly well the events that led up to her landing in this dark, cell-like place, which was a bit cold and damp and...geez, didn't they believe in lights around here, anyway? Yes. Dark.

But back to the events.

As the Professor Mrs. High Witch Mona slowly levitated in front of her and latched onto the rafters, Jade felt the collective gasp of her witchling classmates while the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. And that was something, for the little hairs on the back of any witchling's neck to rise. But they did. As Jade watched the smoke curl out from under the elder witch's black skirt, she swallowed hard, ready to take her knocks, whatever they may be.

She envisioned herself banished to Salem to portray some goofy witch in some gawd-awful reenactment of the Witch Trials for the remainder of her days....

Blessed horrors!

Then, the classroom door whooshed open with an icy draft that blew the ancient High Witch off the rafters and into the opposite wall. Hard. As her classmates gasped once more in unison, they watched their professor slither to the floor into a heap of skirts and steam, much like that lame Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz.

Or was it East?

Never mind. It was all so cliché anyway.

Jade sensed nothing would keep the High Witch down for long. In fact, from the opposite side of the room, sweeping in on that blast of icy wind that prickled her nose and stabbed into her heart, came a High Warlock of come-hither proportions that rivaled only the finest of Warlocks in Witch & Warlock Cosmo-in other words, this warlock put George Clooney to shame like no witchling's daddy.

Jade sucked in a breath and held it. He was very sexy-for an older man. She side-eyed him-and determined he was probably all of thirty-two years old. Maybe thirty-three.

Nevertheless. Too old for her.

The High Warlock locked gazes with her. He strode forward, all his black-haired, black-wardrobed, and black-auraed self. As he moved closer, his gape never wavering from hers, Jade felt her heart trip-hammer in her chest at light-speed.

Oh, motherofallwitches, save me. Save me, now. I. Am. So...

Busted.

"Jade McIntyre?" His voice was smooth as chocolate and bitter as coffee beans. Nice.

And screwed. I am so screwed. "Y-yes?"

He stopped in front of her, narrowed his gaze, and cocked his head a little to the left. "You, are Jade McIntyre?"

She nodded.

Hands on hips-and nice slim hips they were, too-he blew out a breath and glanced off. Simultaneously, Jade finally let her breath go too.

"Pink," he stated.

Shit. She glanced down at her shirt. "Um." Back to his face now. "Sorry. Forgot to do laund-"

Leaning forward, he placed two big hands on her desk, on either side of her exam paper-nice hands they were, too-then willed her gaze up to his, just like he'd tucked an imaginary finger under her chin and tilted it there.

Had he?

Didn't know. Didn't care. All she knew now was that she was lost in a pool of black eyes that made her quite dizzy. Then he spoke.

"Pick up your magic pencil. Now, Jade. And complete your test."

"Wha-?"

"Now, finish your test."

"Bu-"

His voice rose. "Are you always this much of a pain in the ass?"

"Yes!"

The word whooshed out of her mouth with a gust. She picked up the magic pencil and when she did, the pencil took over and before she knew it, the lead was scratching over the exam, answers were pouring out of her head, and then the exam and pencil flew across the still classroom air to land on top of the Professor High Witch's still-steamy heap.

It all happened in like, 3.2 seconds.

After that, all she remembered was the High Warlock grasping her hand, flipping her over onto his back, and saying, "Hold on." With her classmate witchlings' mouths agape, they flew out of the classroom, through the halls of the university building, and exited via an open window at the end of the hall. Straight into the black night. All the while riding on this most magnificent warlock's back, wind whipping her hair into her face.

Ah, the tangles explained.

That's all she remembered until a moment ago.

And that's exactly the thought she was left with as the High Warlock of her McDreams-or was it her McNightmares?-burst through the metal door of her cell.

It was a cell, right?

Groan. This didn't bode too well for her, did it?