Spell Cat by Tara Lain Page 0,62
the most powerful female witch of my generation, which proves that pureblood witches are the salvation of the race, right?”
“That’s what she says.”
“But while I have a lot of power, I also have blind spots. Important ones, like the inability to sense power, even my own. I’m coming to suspect that this weakness is hereditary, and that it has been magnified in each generation of purebred—or should I say inbred—witches.”
Killian laughed. “Exactly! The decline of witchery is a result of the opposite of witch/human marriages. It’s a result of too much inbreeding that has increased certain weaknesses and reduced the power of each generation.”
Jimmy shrugged. “But what about you, Killian?”
He cocked his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just the exception that proves the rule. Hell, I’m gay and neurotic.” He laughed. “Maybe that’s from too much inbred witchery. But we know the decline of the race is not because of witch/human interaction. That we know for sure, and we have the proof.” He pointed. “You and Jimmy and lots of others, if they need to see them. If the council listens and considers what we’re saying, then we can try to do this thing through channels. Bring them along gradually. If they’re defensive and refuse to consider the facts we’re presenting, then we move on to the community. Jimmy, your dad is standing by if we need him, right?”
“Yep. Mom’s scared for him, but he wants to help.” He grinned. “In the last few days, I’ve found out how powerful he is. He should be able to hold his own if he has to.”
“So should you.”
“Thanks.” Amazing to think how far he’d come in a few days. Of course, he’d probably never be as strong as Lavender, though she insisted he would.
Lavender walked over and sat on the floor beside him. God, oops, no, that was gods. He kept forgetting. She’d been teaching him about the ancient witches’ religion that saw the great energy of the universe manifested in many points of magic light that they called gods. So, gods, he loved her. She took his hand. “One way or another, we have to tell the community something, because the wedding is scheduled for Saturday. Everyone is all excited about it.”
Killian leaned back in the chair. “We’ll give them something else to be excited about.”
Lavender looked up at Jimmy and smiled. Gods, the love in his eyes. Here she was, placing his life in the balance for an unknown outcome. She glanced at Killian. Man, she sure hoped the Witch Master was up to the challenge. Her father was one mean witch, in every sense of the word, and Killian’s mother was probably as powerful as Lavender. Maybe more, since Lavender had her blind spots. That wasn’t even considering the three other council members. Shah Mugal spiced his witchery with a touch of mysticism. Robert Valmont couldn’t claim the power, but he was a master politician, and Mimi Merced looked like a housewife from Nebraska, which made her power sneaky and elusive.
She took a deep breath. There was no telling what her father would do when he knew she was involved. Yes, he’d had her watched, but she’d been careful enough and told enough half-truths that he may have slacked off. She certainly hadn’t seen any sign of his men, and he had such a bad temper, she could usually tell when he was pissed at her. No, she suspected he’d be surprised, and not in a good way. She shuddered. It was worth the risk. Having Jimmy, setting his family and all the other mixed-blood families free. It was worth it, but it all depended on the Witch Master.
Blaine packed up his stuff. Not his most stellar class of all time, but he’d made it through. Now he could do what he wanted. Go find Killian and see if they could resolve this whole witch business. Funny, the guy hadn’t been home when he’d tried before class, and he wasn’t at the college, as far as Blaine could tell. Out doing witchy stuff? He stopped. That idea half made him laugh and half cringe. Jesus, could he do it? Could he accept this idea of Killian’s? He shook his head. No, it couldn’t just be an idea, or Killian was insane, and he couldn’t accept that. It had to be a truth on some level. He sighed. The truth was he loved the damned witch, so he had to work it out.
He waved the last student out of