by Willow Mason
I nodded, even though I had no actual idea of what she was talking about. The only coven library I’d been inside had been back up in Auckland—a stingy affair comprising a few dozen old books and a set of strange dice that might have been magical or might have been left behind after an old Dungeons and Dragons tournament.
Genevieve picked up the conversation. “Your mother was the last witch in charge of the library. She left it locked up good and tight.”
I couldn’t decide if her words carried an undercurrent of recrimination or not.
“So tightly no one’s been able to get inside since,” Aunt Florentine continued. “Agatha was the only person around who had books out on loan at the time, and she sits on them like a dragon hoarding its gold.”
“How many books are inside this library?”
“About ten thousand.” My aunt’s voice was grim, and I suddenly found it hard to swallow.
“Ten…?”
“Thousand. Give or take a few. It’s the largest collection in the Southern Hemisphere.”
“For all the good it does us.” Genevieve blew out a breath of air. “The national coven took a shot at opening it a decade ago and failed spectacularly. It hurt their pride so much, nobody’s been sent to try again.”
“But… That’s ridiculous.” I thought of the spell I’d cast on Allison the day before. A simple incantation that cheered up the lives of teenage witches everywhere—as long as they had access to witchcraft.
My mind couldn’t fathom how much power might be locked away, denied to the country. Denied to the world. “Mum wasn’t all that powerful.” My voice died down to a whisper, “Was she?”
“No. She was a decent spellcaster, but this seems well outside of her abilities.” Aunt Florentine took one hand off the wheel and reached between the divider to squeeze my knee. “Someone must have helped her, but since we haven’t been able to work out who or how it’s done us no good.”
“That must be frustrating.”
My aunt and the supreme exchanged glances, then burst into giggles, immediately lightening the atmosphere.
“Sure, frustrating,” Aunt Florentine said with a snort.
“Just a bit.” Genevieve waited until her laughter died away, then rubbed a hand over her forehead. “One day we’ll get it sorted and then we’ll be the most powerful coven in the world again. We should take you along for a try. Who knows? You might have the right touch if the spell is hereditary.”
She turned back to the book, reading through the pages of information with an increasing frown. “If this is correct, we should protect the body. It says that if the suckling can be recovered, their memories can restore the discarded host to their original state.”
“Really?” My aunt glanced over, the car gently drifting until she fixed her eyes back on the road. She turned into my street and pulled up alongside the house. “Well, hopefully, the governing coven finds them quickly.”
“What do you mean, finds them?” My hand crept to my throat, looking for solace, and lowered in disappointment when it found my neck bare. “You mean the suckling is still out there?”
“I doubt it’s hanging around.” Genevieve flicked her hand into the air as we piled inside my house. “Since it’s discarded its previous host, it’ll be getting stuck into a juicy new one.”
I shuddered and pressed a hand to my throat to help stop the rising tide of nausea. “Should we call the police?”
“No.” My aunt’s voice was firm. “This is supernatural business. The national coven will sort it.”
The supreme’s face turned white. “We don’t need to talk to them. I’m sure we can get this matter cleared up before we need to bother anyone in head office.” She gave a thin laugh that disturbed me more than what she was suggesting.
“If you don’t involve them and they find out…”
“Yes, yes,” Genevieve said, gulping. “But they’ll do more harm than good if we invite them along too early.” She spun around, staring behind her with wide eyes, before relaxing and returning her gaze to me. “They’re not my best supporters.”
“This is ridiculous,” my aunt said, drawing up her shoulders until she looked two inches taller. “We must involve them, otherwise any witch found going behind their back risks being sanctioned.”
“A little sanctioning never hurt—”
“Are you volunteering to take the brunt of it, then?” Aunt Florentine stood directly in front of the supreme, challenging her.
To be sanctioned meant losing your magic powers. If the coven was feeling generous, they might only take them away for five years. If you caught them on an off day, you might lose them forever and be caged for good measure besides.
As I watched the silent war of wills raging before me, I took a step back and stared hard at the floor as though it might provide me with answers. “Why did you come to tell me first?” I asked in confusion. “We don’t even know each other. I only arrived in the village last night.”
“The coven has been preparing for your arrival since you were first informed of your inheritance,” the supreme answered, keeping her gaze fixed on my aunt.
I’d received the notice on my twenty-first birthday. Four years ago.
“But I don’t know any of you,” I persevered, still unsure.
“I found the body on your land,” Genevieve said, tearing her gaze from my aunt with a sigh. “So of course, I came here first. But more than that, we mightn’t know you well, but we all knew your mother and father.” She pressed a clenched fist to her chest. “We’ve held you close, here, all these years.”
“Desdemona can’t help you out of this mess,” Aunt Florentine stated in a firm voice. “You should know better than anyone, her powers failed to materialise fully.”
Oh, great. So not only was I the lowest magic-user on the totem pole, but everyone knew and had discussed it behind my back.
“Your parents were powerful,” Genevieve said in a soft voice, reaching for my hand. “I’m sure the magic is just allowing you time to adjust.”
Even the supreme didn’t look like she believed what she was saying. And with good reason. Magic powers arrived in all their glory at age fifteen. Mine arrived with an apologetic whimper.
“There’s no reason for you to get involved,” my aunt said, tapping me lightly on the shoulder. “The coven can deal with this.”
“Aren’t I part of the coven?”
I asked as though it was rhetorical but in truth, I really wanted to know. When the supreme immediately answered, “Yes,” I breathed more easily.
“It’s just your first day back.”
I turned to my aunt, straightening my shoulders in conscious mimicry. “Thank you for helping me to settle in and arranging everything but this is a matter for me to handle alone.”
This time, I was the one to hold her gaze and try to project my will. If we did go behind the council’s back and were caught, I needed Aunt Florentine to have plausible deniability. Since the supernatural board would just reach into her head and pluck out the truth, a lie wouldn’t suffice. I had to push her away.
Aunt Florentine’s expression barely altered, but she took a step back and nodded. “Fine. It’s your decision.” She spun on her heel and walked out of the room. A moment later we heard the front door close and her car start.
“My magic powers aren’t ‘coming in late,’ or anything like that,” I said to Genevieve. “They’re at their strongest right now and that’s barely enough for me to do anything. If the national coven sanctions me, it won’t make a difference.”
The relief in her face was worth the small sacrifice. Especially since I wasn’t even certain it would be one I’d have to make.
“Now, show me the body on my land and I’ll take it from here.”
Strong words but my stomach trembled as we walked out the back door.
“I’ve put a protection spell over the body so nobody else can stumble over her,” Genevieve explained as she led me deep into the forest.
Back there, the sunlight barely penetrated the thick canopy of lush branches overhead. The curse of an evergreen forest left the undergrowth without the energy to grow, dissolving into a path of decayed leaves, dank mud, and overly determined weeds.
“What about me? Will I be able to see her?”
The supreme turned, and I stumbled into her. “You don’t know the first thing about our kind, do you?”
I shrugged, wilting under her intense gaze. “Mum never spoke about magic and my foster family was human. They weren’t great at filling me in on the aspects of witchcraft I was missing.”
She eyed me up and down, then smiled. “I wonder if that’s why your powers are so weak? If we give you the knowledge and instruction to build them up, there’s no telling how powerful you might become.”
Genevieve whirled around and started up a slight incline. The height caught her breath as well as mine and we tramped on in silence.
“Wait a moment,” I finally gasped, rubbing my hand against a stitch in my side. “Surely, we must’ve gone past her. This can’t all be my land.”
“Of course, it is.” Genevieve gave me another of her hard stares. “All the forest is under your family’s care until the last of your line passes.”
I licked my lips, imagining how much money I could profit by parcelling up small sections and selling them off. There would be enough to fit another whole Briarton within its limits. Then reality returned.
“Do you know much about the codicil preventing me from selling?”
Genevieve offered up a sympathetic smile. “Enough to know its rock solid. Where on earth would our coven meet if you took away their woods? We might have a problem with familiar’s absconding to forge burrows but to sell it off?” She shook her head, her messy hairstyle wobbling, then nudged me in the ribs with an elbow. “If you’re desperate to be shot of the place, you can gift it to us.”
Thanks, but no thanks. “How much farther?”
“We’re here.” Genevieve pointed towards a patch where a bundle of sticks lay on top of the undergrowth.
I moved nearer, having to close my eyes when I realised the sticks were desiccated flesh over bones. “And a suckling did this?”
“Yep. If we keep the body safe until we track down the culprit, there’s a chance we can restore her, but…” The supreme trailed off into a shrug, looking back over her shoulder. “Get her into shelter and keep her safe. Even with the protection spell, I don’t like to think of the poor woman left alone out here.”
Neither did I.
“You head back,” I said, trying to avoid glancing down. “I’ll take care of things from here on out.”
“You’re sure?” Genevieve was shuffling away even as she asked the question. I wondered briefly what she’d do if I changed my mind, then nodded.
Given the way the community, especially Aunt Florentine, had enabled my escape from Auckland, it was the least I could do.
No. That would be to do nothing, a self-interested voice in my head called out, but I muzzled it into silence.
Right. First things first. How exactly was I meant to solve a murder when I didn’t know much about the creature that had done it and even less about the victim?
I closed my eyes and channelled a few cop shows into my consciousness. Track down the next of kin was the usual start, then gather up a potential pool of suspects from there.
I knelt next to the body and felt inside the woman’s pockets. A set of car keys was in the right-hand side and a torn ticket stub in the left. It looked like a movie ticket—if they still had those—and I put it into my blouse pocket and buttoned it for good measure.
The car keys came equipped with a button fob so finding the vehicle they belonged to should be easy. Unless the battery had gone flat.
I pulled my mobile phone out of my pocket, planning to note the location, then hissed air out when I saw the blank screen. Charging it had been on the list of things I didn’t get around to last night.
“Well, I’ll just have to find another system,” I muttered. It couldn’t be all that hard to mark the spot. After all, Genevieve had led me straight there without a pause.
I was considering options when I heard a low growl behind me. Spinning on my heel, I was just in time to see a flash of smooth black from the corner of my eye.
I fell backwards, knocked down by a creature with huge teeth and glowing yellow eyes.
A panther sat on my chest. It tipped its head back, and yowled in triumph to the sky above, then opened its jaws wide.
Chapter Four
I tried to sit up, my chest heaving for air. The panther gave me another lick for good measure, then slunk off to stand a few metres away. The expression of disappointment on its face lurched me from terror straight into guilt.
“Whereabouts did we meet?” I said in my best attempt as nonchalance. One thing I knew for certain—if I’d truly met a gigantic black leopard in my past, it would have stuck in my memory.
I stood up, brushing as much of the dirt, leaves, and twigs off my clothing as I could manage. “You’re mistaken,” I said in an apologetic tone. “I’ve never had an assignment ceremony.”
If my mother had still been alive, I might have. They were meant to take place shortly after a witch’s eighteenth birthday to pair them with the familiar most suited. Given my lack of talent, a house cat would have sufficed. “Until yesterday, I lived up in Auckland, so I wouldn’t have met you there, even if I had.”
The twins brought back a few memories. Horrible girls. It had taken me a long time to understand they were two separate people and even now the thought freaked me out. The girls had enjoyed dressing in the same outfits and playing pranks.
Nowadays, they’d be in their mid-thirties. Hopefully, past the worst inclinations of their youth.
“I have a vague—”
The panther leapt and knocked me to the ground again, pressing its face close to mine and sharing a breath. As I inhaled, the memory swirled through my head. Walking through the door of the hall in my prettiest dress, all set to show off and maybe earn a few sticks of gum from the old ladies who’d be attending.
One glance at the familiars on offer, though, and the plan had completely slipped my mind. I’d run to the front of the room, cradling the small kitten in my hands and…
“Hang on.” I pushed the panther back off my chest and sat up. “You were only this big”—I showed it—“and that was with my child hands.”
The cat nuzzled close into my neck, its breath tickling me behind the ear.
No. Not it. She. The cat was called…
“You were both black,” I said, my voice drifting as I sank into a reverie. “And my mother despaired of me keeping either one of you safe.” As the weight of the cat leant against me, I understood Annalisa wasn’t speaking aloud but beaming thoughts directly into my mind.
“But how have you survived so long?” I shook my head, wishing my phone was charged enough to let me google. “Isn’t twenty a very old age for a cat?”
“How could I have forgotten you?” I buried my head into Ann
alisa’s soft fur, inhaling her scent. It picked the lock on a treasure chest of old memories. Getting into trouble casting spells. Having to apologise to the old supreme when I turned her house bright pink.
“I used to be powerful,” I mused. “How is that possible when now I can’t even heal a teenager’s spots?”
The panther sniffed at me, all the way around.
“Oh, goodness.” At the words, I remembered what I was doing out in the woods in the first place. “I have to find a woman’s car, then work out who killed her.”
“What? Why?”
It was then I heard someone stumbling through the undergrowth. A man muttered terrible curses under his breath while I turned in circles, trying to spot a hiding place.
With a flurry of nonsense rhymes, I drowned out the retort that wanted to form in my head. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Another old skill, suddenly awakened.
I didn’t want to poke my head up and make myself even more visible, but my desperation to know what the man was doing overrode common sense. The beeps belonged to a machine he cradled in his hands. A clunky metal box with dials and a long aerial sticking out the top that was strung on a thick leather strap around his neck.
“Come out, I know you’re here,” the man called.