by Neva Bell
Our bedroom door cracks open.
“Girls?” our mom asks tentatively.
I pull back the cover of our tent. “Down here.”
Mom smiles and crawls under the quilt with us. “I haven’t seen you girls do this for years.”
“I’ve started my confinement right away,” Chloe grumbles.
Mom frowns. “You won’t be confined.”
“Really?” Chloe spits back. “So I can just go on about my life like nothing has changed?”
Mom sighs. “Not exactly. Precautions will have to be taken.”
For the first time in years, I see my sister break down. Her head in her hands, she begins sobbing.
“Oh sweetheart,” Mom says as she pulls my sister in for a tight hug.
Tears fill my own eyes as I watch my mom and sister cry together. I can’t imagine how my parents must be feeling. I’m not even sure how I feel about Chloe being the next Verhena. It’s an odd combination of pride and fear.
After a few minutes, Chloe calms down. Mom momentarily leaves the tent for some tissues and we all dry our eyes.
“How long will it take for her powers to come in?” I ask.
Mom shrugs her shoulders. “It’s hard to say. There’s only been one Verhena in my lifetime, and she’s in her eighties now. She came to a coven meeting years ago, but I haven’t met her personally.”
I turn to Chloe. “Do you feel any different?”
She is staring into space, but answers my question. “I don’t feel more powerful, if that’s what you mean.”
“It’s not instantaneous,” Mom explains.
“Duh,” Chloe says, “or Barbara Sheep would still be alive.”
I shiver every time someone mentions Barbara’s name. I heard a rumor that the wolves mangled her body so badly, she was unrecognizable.
“Maybe the wolves aren’t looking for the next Verhena,” I hypothesize. “They know she will be watched like a hawk.”
Chloe snorts. “No pun intended.”
Mom and I give her a “really?” look.
“Sorry,” she apologizes weakly before tucking her knees into her chest again.
I don’t mind my sister’s attitude. If anything, it shows me the Chloe I know is still in there.
“Did Dad talk to Samantha?” I ask Mom.
She nods. “Yes. She said we cannot tell anyone else, not even the members of our coven.”
I’m surprised. “Seriously? We can’t tell the coven?”
Mom’s eyes are soft. “We have to be careful Chelsea.”
Chloe and I exchange a glance, both of us disturbed by Samantha’s directive. If we can’t trust our own coven, who can we trust?
Wait a second… “Can I tell Rory?”
“Of course you can,” Chloe responds at the same time my mom says, “No.”
Before we can discuss it further, there’s a knock on the door.
Dad leans his head in. “Ladies?”
Mom throws the quilt back this time. “Over here honey.”
Dad chuckles, then stops when he sees Chloe curled up like a ball. “Chloe…”
She looks up at him in response.
“Elliott needs to speak with you.”
Chloe tucks her chin back on her knees. “I’m not leaving this tent.”
“He needs to talk to you,” Dad presses. “As the Reader, it’s his job to provide you with information.”
“About what?” Chloe asks.
Dad rubs his temples. I have never seen him this distraught. “I don’t know exactly. He wouldn’t tell me. I’m guessing there is a protocol he has to follow.”
“I’m not getting out of this tent,” Chloe repeats.
I move the quilt and stand up. “Fine. Elliott will have to come up here.” I extend my hand to Mom. “Let’s go Mom.”
She takes my hand and I pull her to a standing position. Chloe remains still as we exit the room. I shut the door behind us and we make our way downstairs to the kitchen.
“How is she?” Dad asks as we take seats at our circular, honey-colored wooden table.
“Not good, she’s scared. Hell, I’m scared,” Mom admits.
Dad nods. “Me too. I was not prepared for this.” He turns to me. “How are you holding up?”
How am I holding up?
I just found out my sister is going to be the leader of our kind. She’ll likely be taken somewhere far away for extensive training. I may not see her for long periods of time. She will stay at the Verhena’s super-secret compound doing whatever it is the Verhena does.
Selfishly, I am disappointed. Not because I want to be the Verhena. No way. Chloe is my twin, my other half. A part of me will be gone if she’s taken away from me.
Instead of saying all of this, I simply tell my dad, “I’m okay.”
For the first time all day, I check my cellphone. I have two missed calls from Rory and a text asking, “Well???”
I sigh. “Mom, are you sure I can’t tell Rory?”
Dad answers for her. “You can’t tell him. Not yet.”
“He won’t tell anyone,” I plead. “He loves Chloe as much as we do.” Well, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. Rory and Chloe don’t always see eye to eye, but they’re like siblings. Rory would never do anything to hurt my sister.
Mom pats my hand. “We know. But for now, we have to keep it between us. You’ll be able to tell him soon.”
I type “It’s a dove!” into a text and hit “send.” After some thought, I send another message. “Hey, it’s going to be crazy here tonight. I probably won’t be able to call you until tomorrow morning. I love you.”
I get a quick response. “Woo hoo! So happy you got a dove. Love you too Chelse.”
I smile. Rory would have acted excited even if I got a hawk. Would he be terrified of the hawk training? Absolutely, but I know in my heart of hearts he would have weathered the storm with me.
I put my phone down and tune back into my parents’ conversation.
“Where do you think they’ll take her?” Mom asks Dad, concern furrowed in her brow.
“Where will who take her?”
Dad turns to me with a grimace. “The Guard will be here any minute.”
My pulse races. The Guard?
---
Chloe
Elliott laughs lightly when he sees the tent arrangement. It takes him a minute, but he manages to squeeze his large frame in between our twin beds.
When he’s settled, he says, “Wow, this may be a first for me.”
“First time in a girl’s room?”
He grins. “No. First time in a girl’s tent.”
I stretch my legs as far as I can and lean back against Chelsea’s bed. “There’s so much I can say, but I’ll let it go.”
“That’s probably for the best.”
The light banter with Elliott eases my mind a little, but he’s here for a reason. “Rumor has it you need to speak with me.”
Elliott nods. He put his hat back on, but it doesn’t hide his chocolate brown eyes. “I’ve been trained to tell you a few things.”
“Okay. Can I ask a few questions first?”
“Of course.”
Of all the questions floating around in my brain, which do I choose first? I pick the one shouting the loudest. “Why did you give me this tattoo?”
I don’t want this damn tattoo. I want to be a normal witch. Well, as normal as a witch can be.
The amusement is gone from Elliott’s face. “I gave you the tattoo my reading told me to give you.”
“What exactly did my skin tell you?”
“It’s hard to explain.” He pauses. “When I touch someone’s skin, I get a sense of who they really are. Not the person they try to be, or the person we think they should be. The real woman. Who she is now and who she can become. A vision of the bird that is right for her literally flies through my mind. I see it clear as day.”
I think back to the moment Elliott was reading my skin and chills run through me.
&
nbsp; “Is that why you stopped during my reading? You saw the white hawk?”
“You sensed that?”
“Yes.”
Elliott picks at the skin on the palm of his hand. “I’ve never seen the white hawk before. It took me by surprise.”
“Because you never guessed I’d be the Verhena?”
He shakes his head. “No. I never thought I’d give the Verhena tattoo.” He meets my eyes. “I wasn’t sure I could do it.”
“Wait, didn’t you give Barbara her tattoo?”
Elliott cringes. “No. My dad did.”
Seeing I’ve hit a nerve by asking about Barbara, I change the subject. “What do you have to tell me?”
Elliott straightens up. “Some of it you probably already know. First, you cannot share this with anyone unless you are one hundred percent sure they will take the secret to their graves.”
I nod. “I know. Our coven leader told my dad we can’t tell the rest of our coven.”
“She’s absolutely right. This is the kind of thing people love to gossip about. The news will spread like wildfire.”
The shock value alone of me being the Verhena is enough to get people yacking. No one will believe it.
“Second thing,” Elliott continues, “your tattoo is different than the other magical brands.”
I snort. “No shit.”
He smiles. “Obviously, right? What I mean is, as you become more powerful, your tattoo will change.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’ve never seen it myself, but your tattoo will fill in with more gold as your power increases. It’s a gauge of how much stronger you’re getting.”
Fascinating. “My hawk will eventually be completely gold?”
“Not completely gold. At least I don’t think so. The feathers on the current Verhena’s brand are golden from the tip to about one-third of the way up the feather. Your hawk will remain mostly white, but more gold will slowly fill in.”
I’ll be checking my back day and night to see if it’s changing. “This is so weird.”
“Yes, it is,” Elliott agrees.
“In sum, don’t tell anyone about my white hawk; and my tattoo is a power barometer. Got it. Anything else?”
Elliott frowns. “This is the part you’re not going to like.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
“I had to call the Guard.”
My body tenses. “The Guard? Why?”
“I’m sorry Chloe, I had to. I was told to call the Guard immediately when and if I give the Verhena tattoo.”
“The Guard is coming here? To my house?” It feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.
“Yes, they will be here soon.”
“Do my parents know?”
Elliott nods.
Holy shit. The Guard. This is so bad. The Guard is the witch equivalent of the Army Rangers, the Navy Seals, and the Green Berets. They are called in when the shit has hit the fan. The fact that they are coming to my house drives home how much danger I’m in.
I pull my legs back into my chest, fighting tears. “You got it wrong. Your vision was wrong.”
“Hey, don’t.” Elliott reaches out and puts his hands on my shoulders. I refuse to meet his eyes. “You are the Verhena. I know you don’t think so, but you are.”
I’d love to believe what he’s saying, but I can’t. I’m bullheaded and stubborn. I defy authority for fun. How can I possibly be the leader our people need?
Tears spill from my eyes. “You don’t know me Elliott. I’m not the Verhena.”
“Look at me,” Elliott commands. I hesitate, but give in. I gaze up at him, his face gorgeous despite the stern expression. “My reading was right. You are strong. Smart. Compassionate. Everything we need our next Verhena to be. I know you can do this.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. My reading for you was the strongest I’ve ever had. I saw things I don’t usually see with the others.”
Elliott drops his hands and sits back. I feel colder without his warm touch.
“Like what? What did you see?”
He is conflicted. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“But you did. What did you see?” I press.
“I can’t tell you.”
“Seriously? You can’t do that to me! Tell me!”
Elliott sighs. “I don’t know if it was a vision, or if it was my subconscious. It’s not reliable.”
What the hell is this man talking about? I have enough on my plate without having to worry about Elliott seeing my untimely demise and not sharing the details with me.
“Elliott, tell me. I have to know.”
His face flushes. “It’s kind of ridiculous.”
“All of this is ridiculous.”
Elliott starts to say, “I saw,” then stops himself.
This is so frustrating. “Come on Elliott. Just tell me.”
He opens his mouth only to shut it again.
I’m about to go nuclear on him when he speaks, a look of determination on his face. “To hell with it. This should explain it.”
Elliott leans toward me. His hand slides behind my neck and pulls my face to his. Before I realize what he is doing, his soft lips are on mine. It is a gentle kiss, but it sends electricity surging through my body.
Elliott pulls back. “I’m sorry Chloe. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I smile. “I have to say I’m a little disappointed.”
He shakes his head, embarrassed. “It was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”
I shift my weight. “I know you’ve got more than that.”
Elliott looks shocked when I press my mouth on his lips, still wet from our kiss. There is hesitation on his part at first, but then he gives in. He wraps his strong arms around my body and pulls me in closer.
The connection is instant and strong. I get lost in his kiss. No longer worried about werewolves or the Guard.
Too soon, Elliott pulls back. “Not now. Not here.”
I pout as he shifts away from me.
“I want this. Trust me, I want it badly. But now isn’t the time.”
“I understand.” I curl up again. I don’t know if I’ll ever leave this spot.
Elliott reaches his hand out and takes mine. “I hope you do. So much is about to change for you. You’ll be going through extensive training and you need to focus.”
What he’s saying is right. This isn’t the best time to be messing around. His rejection still hurts though.
Elliott rubs the top of my hand with his thumb. “This might make you feel better - my brother is a member of the Guard.”
“Really?”
“Yes. They call him Tank.”
I laugh. “Big guy, huh?”
“You could say that. His real name is Frank.”
“Will he be here? At my house?”
Elliott nods. “Yes. He’s the commander of this District.”
“Why isn’t he a Reader like you?”
“I am one of three children,” Elliott explains. “We all have the ability to read skin, but there isn’t a need for three Readers right now. So Frank joined the Guard. His ability to read skin makes him very valuable to them.”
Before I can ask any more questions, I hear a car pull into the driveway. My stomach rolls again. I won’t be able to eat for a week.
Elliott crawls out of the tent. “I think they’re here.”
“Do I have to get up?” I whine.
“I think so. Tank and his buddies won’t fit under your tent.” Elliott grins. “Although I’d like to see them try.”
I hesitate. I have to get up, but once I do, my entire life will be different. I look over at Elliott, who is standing at my bedroom window.
“Is it them?”
“Sure is.”
“How many?”
He smiles at me. “Three, and my brother is one of them.”
I try to smile back. “That’s nice.”
Sensing my trepidation, Elliott walks
over and extends his hand. “Come on. You can do this.”
I sigh, but give him my hand. He helps me up and pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around him and lean my head on his chest. He’s so warm and inviting. I don’t want to let go.
We pull apart when the doorbell rings.
In the coming months, I will evaluate my life in two phases: pre-doorbell and post-doorbell.
Chapter Three
Chelsea
My parents and I exchange a glance when the doorbell rings. All of us nervous about the arrival of the Guard.
When Chloe and I were five or six, members of the Guard came to a coven meeting to introduce themselves and answer questions. The only thing I remember about their visit was they were terrifying. None of them said or did anything in particular to scare me, they were just huge.
I follow Mom and Dad to the front door as the bell rings for the second time.
“Impatient, aren’t they?”
I glance over my shoulder to see Chloe and Elliott coming down the stairs together. My sister looks a little better than she did when I left her in our quilt tent, but exhaustion rests in her eyes.
My dad takes a deep breath before swinging the door open. I stand on my tiptoes trying to see our company over his shoulder.
“Hello,” a deep voice says. “Is this the Miller residence?”
Dad clears his throat. “Yes, yes it is. Come in.”
I was expecting soldiers in camouflage carrying machine guns. Instead, three bulky men wearing khaki pants and Under Armour polo shirts step into our house. They look like an Under Armour ad with their matching outfits, except they are wearing different color shirts. The first man to walk in is in red, followed by blue, then green. All three have huge arms and army-style haircuts in common.
My family is frozen in place, mesmerized by the Guard members. Chloe stands at the bottom of the steps eyeing the men suspiciously.
Elliott steps forward and grabs the hand of the man in red. “What’s up Frank?”
Frank gives Elliott a “man hug” as they clap each other on the back.
“Good to see you little brother,” Frank says.
Dad raises an eyebrow. “You’re brothers?”
“Yep,” Elliott answers. “This is my older brother, Frank. He is the commander in this District.”