AIR WITCH

  WITCHES OF WESTWOOD ACADEMY

  BOOK TWO

  GINA KINCADE

  C.D. GORRI

  CONTENTS

  Air Witch

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Follow C.D. Gorri

  Other Titles by C.D. Gorri

  About C.D. Gorri

  More From Gina Kincade

  Connect With Gina

  About Gina Kincade

  Air Witch

  Witches of Westwood Academy

  Book Two

  * * *

  Copyright © 2022

  Gina Kincade & C.D. Gorri

  ISBN: 978-1-77357-458-5

  978-1-77357-459-2

  Published by Naughty Nights Press LLC

  Cover Art By King Cover Designs

  * * *

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  * * *

  Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as "unsold or destroyed" and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.

  * * *

  No part of this book may be adapted, stored, copied, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  * * *

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  AIR WITCH

  Exams suck, especially Westwood Academy’s midyear Magical Decathlon.

  * * *

  Maia is the youngest Witch in her family, and the sole heir to the fabled Meriwether cache of magic. It is her duty to uphold the family name and to bring honor to the Meriwether Witches who came before her.

  * * *

  Her parents aren’t the only ones with high expectations of their youngest. She has the professors on her back too. One in particular. Not exactly what she had in mind when she came to Westwood Academy. Longing for freedom, she only wants to make her own choices without repercussions to her family name.

  * * *

  Will Maia disappoint her family and school by refusing to play their midyear games? Or will she draw on her inner strength and surprise even the most cynical of her instructors?

  Find out in Air Witch!

  PROLOGUE

  A little over a year ago…

  * * *

  “You can be smart or pretty, Maia. Not both,” Sissy said, pulling on my hair.

  She was weaving my long, golden locks into a braid so tightly, tears rolled down my once chubby cheeks. I was just coming out of puberty, and the rounded bloom of my adolescence had turned into carefully cultivated angles of what was to be my adulthood.

  Smart or pretty.

  Never both.

  And never anything else.

  “Stop fidgeting,” Sissy hissed and tugged harder on my hair.

  Bitch.

  I really hated special occasions. Sissy was my cousin. She had lived with us for as long as I could remember. Roughly fifteen years older than me, she had been put in charge of my appearance this entire holiday season.

  Celebrating Samhain with a huge feast and carnival was a time honored Meriwether tradition, and I was expected to look my best. The importance of my appearance had been drummed into my head since I was a baby. My mother was a ravishing French beauty, but I inherited none of her hourglass shape and natural sex appeal.

  Now that I’d lost all trace of baby fat, I resembled my father’s side of the family. The men were all trim and the women slender with blonde hair. My eyes were my mother’s. Blue instead of the usual Meriwether green. I’d been raised with the idea firmly imbedded into my sometimes willful brain that my appearance reflected on my family.

  It was my duty to obey my father, and to make the family proud. That meant looking the part and, above all, fulfilling my obligations by behaving acceptably. My mother married into the family, so she was removed from the picture of raising me early on. No, no, Martine was simply not cut out for the task. I had nannies to tend me as a child, and now, I had Sissy to outfit me and ensure I behaved in the manner befitting my station.

  I looked at my reflection and noted a small bump on the side of my head.

  Shit.

  I really didn’t want to go through the painful braiding process all over again, and I considered not telling Sissy. But she’d seen the movement of my eyes and had noticed the flaw herself.

  Perhaps harder than necessary, she tore the braid out, and began the entire process again. My poor abused head throbbed in response. But I held still, as I was expected to.

  The Meriwethers were powerful. Our everyday home was located in Rumson, one of the wealthiest towns in the Garden State, where rock stars and politicians chose to live. My father loved rubbing elbows with celebrities, even if they were normals. It was like his own little joke on them. After all, Frederick Meriwether was so much more powerful than any of them could ever dream.

  All the men in my family held important positions in supernatural society. My great uncle was the head wizard of the coven I was born into, Coven Vervain. I was his “cherished” niece, and because Father coveted the position, he insisted I always dress the part.

  But we weren’t in Rumson, now, and all the guests here were supernaturals. Witches and wizards, with the occasional vampire and fae representative thrown in. My father loathed shifters, so none would be in attendance.

  It was Samhain, and I looked forward to tonight with a childish zeal I couldn’t quite hide. My family always hosted the festivities on our huge estate out in Long Island. It used to be fun when I was a kid. Now that I’d grown boobs and my magic had come in, it was something else.

  I used to look forward to this holiday. The Long Island house boasted a large library where I’d disappear for hours when I’d been younger. Reading was one of my guilty little pleasures. Eating too.

  Oh, how I’d once looked forward to the succulent, roasted meats, trays of freshly made pastas, and perfectly sautéed vegetables. Not to mention the endless cakes, sweets, and cold-pressed apple cider we offered to celebrate the occasion.

  But not anymore.

  Sissy had been relentless about my diet in the months leading up to Samhain. She glared at me with glittering moss green eyes. Then, she looked down at my body and I sucked in a breath and held it. The straight, expensive, gold dress I wore was couture. Simple, elegant, and maybe ten years too old for me. But that was the look the Meriwether women went for. Cool and elegant, if a little severe for my tastes. It did not matter what I wore, Sissy was always judging me.

  I didn’t need any reminders that she found me unsuitable. The way she pulled my hair into the ridiculously complicated plait down my back, tsking the entire time, was proof enough.

  The Meriwether women’s talents all seemed to revolve around beauty or aesthetics. There were some minor artists, but those women had also remained unmarried and were not discussed openly.

  While the men owned businesses and sought offices within the coven, the women spent their time keeping up appearances, taking care of the many houses and estates, and looking good.

  That was my future.

  It had already been decided by my powerful father, uncontested by my beautiful mother. So, pretty, or smart. Not both, and not anything else. I felt like I was living in some cruel Jane Austen novel where women could not inherit their father’s land or titles and had to marry to survive.

  It was outrageous and ridiculous, but what could I do to change it?

  I could choose to be a nerd, but not without consequences. I was still too young and desperate for approval to ever consider being shunned for a lifetime by my rich and powerful family.

  Martine and Frederick Meriwether were the heads of our house. Uncle Alfredo might run the coven, but not for long. Not if Father and Mother had anything to say about it. They would not allow me to mess up their plans. My parents valued beauty and power above all else.

  The choice was simple.

  I could either embrace what being a Meriwether truly meant, or I could try to live without them.

  Barely old enough to drive, not yet old enough to legally drink, I was so not ready for such a choice. So, I sat quietly and endured the pain as Sissy doubled her efforts to create the perfect braid, making me cringe with each tug, swipe, and pull.

  I stared at my reflection, relieved that Father would be pleased with what he saw. I was more than passable, and, to my own deep satisfaction, I was also smart.

  I could play their game.

  For now.

  I stood to look at myself in the mirror.

  “Thank you, Sissy,” I replied politely once she had finished.

  I had to hand it to my pinched-faced cousin, the intricate design she’d created in my long, golden locks was quite beautiful. I looked like a fairy princess.

  Straightening m
y shoulders, I stood up and smoothed my dress over my slender hips. The raw silk made a soft, rustling sound beneath my palms.

  “Hmmpf,” she muttered, turning away.

  Sissy always did hate me. I wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe it was because her hair was a flaming red, the kind more orange than auburn, instead of the preferred Meriwether blonde. I mean, I kinda thought it was cool, but she’d sneered the one time I tried to compliment her, so nowadays, I stayed quiet.

  She might also hate me because her parents sent her to mine, like some sort of indentured servant, after her husband had died unexpectedly choking on a chicken bone. Sad, for sure. But theirs never struck me as a love match, and Sissy seemed quite unaffected.

  If I had to guess, it probably had more to do with the simple fact that our grandmother had willed a greater portion of her magic to me than to any of her other heirs. I felt their stares as I walked down the great stairs to the hallway where dozens of Meriwethers milled about.

  I was the chosen one, so to speak, and boy, did they hate me for it. Grandmother Meriwether was the only female in our family tree to accumulate a wealth of magic and keep it to herself. She was survived by her brother, Alfredo, and her seven sons.

  Each of her sons, my uncles on my father’s side, had a minimum of three children a piece. All of them, constantly at each other’s throats, vying for a bigger piece of the fallen matriarch’s magic.

  And that was the true horror story behind the fairytale fiction that was my family’s power.

  I walked down the beautifully decorated hallway, my heels clicking on the highly polished marble. The whole estate was done in whites and blacks, marble, stucco, wrought iron, and stone. The mansion was striking, but I remained unaffected by the wealth and beauty of it all.

  Even the decorations failed to amuse. Dozens of black candles sat on tall silver holders, their orange flames glowing brightly and casting shadows about. The space had been expertly decorated, as had the courtyard and walkways.

  There were enormous vases holding branches decked out in autumnal leaves and silver painted branches, some with berries still on them. Each arrangement held over three dozen, long-stemmed roses in the reddest shade I had ever seen. Those vases stood tall, and in every corner, but I did not even slow my pace.

  There were huge pumpkins, and decorative gourds, black cats running around to amuse the children, and a live band playing for the entertainment of my father’s important guests. The autumn breeze was light and perfect flowing off the Sound and giving an ethereal air to the night.

  But it did not matter how smart or put together I was, I mused as I looked at my older cousins, and my two brothers. All of them stood with their wives draped on their arms like ornaments. And that was what they were, pretty little nothings.

  That was my future.

  I was simply prey, waiting to be eaten.

  My heart thundered in my chest, and my pulse raced like mad.

  I began to walk through the party, smiling at guests and nodding my head in response to every greeting, but I didn’t stop to chat. I had to get out of there.

  “Niece? Where are you off to?” my uncle asked, blocking my way, but I darted around him.

  “Excuse me, Uncle Alfredo,” I whispered and smiled apologetically.

  Let him think I had to use the restroom.

  For the first time in my life, I realized how cruel fate was. The women, all so gaunt and thin, and bitter when you really looked at them, stood beside their men as they told stories boasting of their powers and magical shenanigans.

  It wasn’t always theirs though, was it?

  Tears pricked my eyes as I made my way to the cottage house and leaned against the back door trying to swallow my fears.

  I could not wrap my head around it. The idea of having children so you could siphon their powers and add them to yours was abhorrent. But that was what the Meriwether men did. It was what they expected of their females, wives, and children, both.

  They all thought it so secret, this terrible practice of theirs. But I knew all about it. I’d heard Mother arguing with Father, right after my grandmother had passed away. He had big plans for me. Plans that had kept me from getting a good night sleep ever since I’d heard them.

  I always wondered why Father never seemed to hug or pet me like the other daddies did to their little girls in my school. I’d once foolishly thought it’d be different, maybe, if I was more like my brothers, and came home covered in dirt with a jar full of beetles to show him.

  The nanny who’d been taking care of me had been promptly fired and I got no dessert for a week. Then, I heard them that night, and I knew. Father was expecting more of me than a silly little girl. If he was to be cursed with a daughter, then she should at least be talented.

  Stupid me, I’d looked for that talent, found it, and Grandmother had her vision about me. Now, Father looked at me impatiently. He needed my control and my powers to grow before they were ripe for the taking. I had very little time left.

  Looking out at the beautifully lit gardens, I listened to the string quintet, letting their notes flow over me. I like music, the way it danced on the air, filling the night with emotion and anticipation.

  The music was soothing and soft, like a lover’s kiss, or what I’d imagined one to be. If a musician was particularly talented, I’d bet they could bend the air with their song.

  Eyes growing heavy as I began to relax, I swayed from side to side, thinking about magic and music. With those thoughts in my head, and my body so loose and comfortable without any of my family around me, I hummed a single note.

  A warm sort of tug began in my gut, and a moment later, I felt a cool breeze wafting over me. My magic sparked and buzzed, little white lightning bolts, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

  Oh no.

  I was in panic mode.

  My magic was coming in right then and there, stronger and faster than I’d ever expected. I’d somehow sent a cast to call on the breeze, and soon, my father would know about it.

  Closing my eyes, I willed myself to calm down.

  The party was already a success, something that would please Mother. And I looked perfect. My hair and only the slightest hint of makeup on my young face complimented my gold gown.

  Father would be pleased. He would parade me around tonight, making my uncles seethe with jealousy, and I would have to endure the petty taunts of my cousins. My two older brothers did not make fun of me.

  That was a relief.

  But the Meriwether men had nothing to fear. Their powers were for themselves. It was the women who were expected to give and obey.

  “You’d better head down now, cousin,” Sissy said from right next to me.

  “Yes, I’d better,” I agreed, refusing to show her how much she’d startled me.

  The sooner I made my rounds, the sooner I could retreat to my bedroom. I’d already packed my bag for Westwood Academy, the elite school for Witches where I would complete my training. It was important to Father that I have total control of my powers before I was forced to give them up.

  Only, I had other plans for my magical talents and myself.

  Someday, I will be free.

  CHAPTER 1

  Present day...

  * * *

  “I can’t believe this jerk,” I growled, staring down at my tablet.

  The grade stared at me in unflattering, crimson ink. For some reason, he preferred to mark the electronic document with a stylus rather than type in the grade. It made it that much more glaring, and I totally blamed the fucker.