by E. Latimer
She looked over at Dayna. Not-Cora had gone straight for her. And the look on her face when she’d spotted Dayna, as if she recognized her.
It should have been impossible. The candles and herbs scattered around the blanket meant protection, a circle that couldn’t be broken. Yet something had. Something uninvited had crept in, slipped effortlessly into one of their bodies. Meiner had seen many disturbing things under Grandma King’s tutelege, but this beat them all.
That thing had addressed the three women of the other coven—Meiner gave Bronagh an assessing look. It had not slipped past her that it addressed the older woman as sister.
More questions, and as long as her grandmother’s behavior continued to swing wildly, there would be no answers. Not unless she went looking for them.
And on top of the crawling, uneasy feeling she got when she looked over at Cora, she felt a sense of horror at her own actions. She hadn’t been afraid when she’d punched Cora, she’d been…excited. It felt good.
It was not the same with a punching bag. There was no give, no result upon impact. No reaction. She had hurt Cora, made her bleed. And something inside wanted more.
Sometimes she scared herself.
Beside her she felt Dayna stumble, and Meiner reached out instinctively, looping an arm around her waist as she would a drunk friend.
“God, you’re absolutely sloshed. What the hell was in that tea?”
The other girl giggled, an abrupt and startling noise in the stillness. She looked immediately horrified, her hand flying over her mouth, and Meiner found herself amused despite everything.
Back in the house, she steered Dayna through the shoe room and sat her down at the kitchen table. At Yemi’s instruction, Faye and Brenna took Cora into the living room.
“Lay her out on the couch.” Yemi looked ashen but fierce, and she hurried over to the sink. “She’ll be needing a cold compress for her head and sugar when she wakes. Meiner, love, will you bring over the cookie tin? I’ll get the cloth.”
Meiner nodded, snatching the pitcher in the middle of the table and depositing it in front of Dayna with one of the empty teacups on the table. “Drink water,” she said, and then when Reagan swayed dangerously in the chair beside her, she added, “Both of you.”
She made her way over to the counter, scooping up the tin. The Callighans were talking in low voices by the kitchen sink.
“Should be impossible,” Brenna was saying. “The circle was complete.”
“Nothing gets in unless it’s invited,” Faye said, and she cast a narrow glance in the direction of the living room. “This feels familiar. It isn’t the first time we’ve had a circle broken.”
Meiner stopped. Here was her chance to finally get answers. When Faye and Brenna paused and stared at her she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Tell me what she did. Why did she leave?”
Now it was Brenna’s turn to dart a look toward the living room. Then she said in a low voice, “She was asked to leave. We didn’t realize it, but she’d been practicing black magic.”
Meiner braced a hand on the counter, taking a deep, shaky breath. She wasn’t sure why she felt shocked. She shouldn’t be.
“Very few beings are powerful enough to break a circle,” Bronagh added. “But if the circle is already disrupted by dark energy from within, it becomes easier.”
Meiner barely caught what she was saying. This was bringing back memories she usually tried to keep buried. Of Grandma King coming and going at all hours of the night, her eyes growing strange and wild. Hearing the rasping hiss of whispers late into the small hours of the morning, of tall, slender shadows sliding along the walls. Catching glimpses of movement reflected in mirrors and around corners, swirls of black mist pooling on the floor one minute and gone the next.
The question now became, was Gran still doing dark magic?
“You think she broke the circle again,” Meiner said.
She saw Faye’s expression turn to dismay, and Brenna flinch, a split second before a cool voice said behind her, “The first incident was years ago. I was just out of witchlinghood. If it had been me who broke the circle now, Bronagh, you would know. Most of you would be dead, and the rest half-mad and drooling in your tea.”
The Callighans said nothing, only exchanged a look, and Bronagh gave a reluctant nod.
The anger flared in Meiner’s chest. Gran hadn’t even looked at Meiner, wasn’t even going to address the fact that she’d lied to her all her life. That she’d raised her around black magic. That wasn’t the type of shit you did around children. Things happened. People died.
Meiner’s arm shot out before she could think about what she was doing, and she seized a fistful of the back of Grandma King’s sweater. “How the hell could you—”
Something hit her full in the chest, cutting her words off. It felt like an invisible fist knocked her back a step, punching the air from her lungs. Meiner wheezed, hands pressed below her collarbones, eyes watering.
Grandma King turned, expression twisted with fury. “You think I owe you an explanation, girl?”
Meiner stepped back, pulse jackhammering in her ears as her grandmother moved toward her. Then she blinked, startled, as Yemi swept between them. The woman’s good-natured smile was gone, replaced by cold fury.
“I don’t know what kind of backward coven you run, Ms. King. Frankly I don’t care. You are under my roof, and you will follow my rules. In this house we do not strike children, and we certainly do not use magic against them. If you cannot abide by these rules, you can take yourself off my property right now. Do I make myself clear?”
Meiner watched, astonished, as her gran slowly nodded. When her gaze shifted back to Meiner, she could see the anger buried there, but Gran said nothing. Instead she returned to the living room, Yemi following silently.
Meiner turned away from the counter to see Dayna and Reagan at the kitchen table, expressions slack with shock. She’d forgotten they were there.
Her cheeks burned. She couldn’t stand the look Dayna was giving her. The surprise, turning swiftly to pity.
She had to get out. Had to clear her head.
Meiner stomped through the hallway and burst out the front door, into the cool fresh air of the garden. She made her way around the house and stopped just under the kitchen window, leaning against the wall, hands on her knees as she tried to collect herself. Her chest still ached, and the Callighans’ words echoed in her ears over and over.
There was shuffling from the window above, and Meiner stiffened. “She’ll be in there for a while,” said a low voice.
“She’ll not get away with that behavior again,” someone replied. It sounded like Faye.
“Nay, she won’t. I’ve never seen Yemi like that.” Brenna’s voice was amused. “Glad I wasn’t on the end of it. I thought Grandma King and Ma would be at each other’s throats; I didn’t see that coming.”
“Well,” Faye muttered, “it’s only a matter of time before that happens. The sooner this is done the better. That entire coven is a powder keg waiting to go off.”
Brenna made a tsking noise but didn’t argue. There was another shuffle and then silence. They’d moved back into the living room.
Meiner slumped against the side of the house.
It hurt because she knew it was true. Her coven was toxic, and she was no better, because more than hurt, more than betrayal, she felt rage. She pictured herself stalking back inside, through the kitchen and into the living room. Screaming at her grandmother that she was done, she was leaving. Storming out and never looking back.
She played it in her head over and over, letting her fingers drift over the thin, curved scar on her left cheek.
Gran might still be doing black magic.
If she was, Meiner was going to find out. And this time her gran wasn’t going to get away with it.
She stayed outside, despite the cold night air biting at her through her jacket and the rain and mist that began to roll in through the garden. She stayed, hopin
g the cold drizzle would extinguish the burning in her chest.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DAYNA
The room was spinning. Dayna groaned, dropping her head onto her arms. The cup beside her rattled and nearly tipped over, and Reagan snorted.
“I feel absolutely plastered.” Reagan’s voice was slurred.
Dayna groaned again, this time in agreement. If she shut her eyes, her head spun, so she forced herself to sit up, trying to blink away the fog. Her mind felt like a bee’s nest, full of frantic buzzing.
The ugly look on Cora’s face when she’d spotted her. The way she’d spoken, threatening but familiar, like whatever had possessed her had known Dayna.
The hum of multiple voices and the way she’d called the others sister.
Meiner’s hands on her shoulders, the smell of laundry soap. The way her arm shot out to fend off Cora.
Whatever the hell that had been just now with Grandma King…
For a split second she’d been afraid for Meiner. The look in Grandma King’s eyes…Dayna repressed a shudder. If that was what she did to her own granddaughter in front of others, what did she do when they were alone?
On top of all of this, the power that had surged through her during the ceremony still burned in her breast. It kept bringing her back to the same thought.
She was a full witch now.
In spite of everything, it was still a big deal. Sluggishly she reached over and put a hand on Reagan’s shoulder. “Reagan?”
Her friend was slumped forward, head on her arms. “Hmm?”
“We’re witches now. For real.”
“For real,” Reagan mumbled. “Christ, my head hurts.”
Dayna almost laughed, but she pressed a hand to her lips, knowing it would come out hysterical. She and Reagan were now part of an ancient tradition passed down through generations. Anyone could scry or read tarot, but real magic was only practiced once you ascended, could only be witnessed by your coven, or performed alone.
There was something both unnerving and exciting about being inducted to the most secret of inner circles. Tonight had been exhilarating and terrifying, and it felt like the start of everything.
“Dayna?”
“Yeah?” She tilted her head to look at Reagan and then had to fight another wave of dizziness.
Reagan’s brow was creased. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She blinked, as if she were trying to clear her head. “When she attacked you I wanted—I wanted to use one of the protection spells I know. I’ve memorized a bunch, but…I’ve never used them, and I didn’t know if they’d work.”
“Reagan.” Dayna struggled to sit up and then groaned, laying her head back on the table. “You just ascended. You’re not even supposed to know that many spells yet.” She reached across the table and grabbed Reagan’s hand, whispering. “And…we’re drunk.”
Reagan giggled and squeezed her hand, swaying in her chair. “Very extremely.”
Voices in the kitchen made Dayna sit up.
“The reverend’s just called. She was supposed to be home by ten, so she’ll need a ride.” Yemi’s voice.
“I’ll take her.”
The second voice, low and slightly husky, was Meiner. Dayna felt a jolt of surprise. Why would Meiner volunteer? She hated Dayna, didn’t she? She tried not to think about having the other girl standing so close during the ceremony. Or her arm around Dayna’s waist as she led her back to the house. It made her face feel hot.
There was a warm presence at her elbow. Yemi was hovering beside her. “Dayna, dear, I need you to focus, okay?”
Dayna released Reagan’s hand, eyes fluttering open. She hadn’t realized they’d shut. “Hmm?”
“Meiner will take you home, all right? She’ll walk you to the door.” Yemi frowned, hesitating. “Will you be okay…with your mother there and everything, I mean?”
Dayna nodded. By the time she got there the reverend would hopefully be in bed. He usually went to sleep at eight every night. She had no idea about her mother; maybe they stayed awake praying all night at camp. She grimaced, and Yemi looked puzzled.
“Dayna?”
She realized she hadn’t said any of that out loud. “Oh yes. They’ll be in bed. I’ll be fine.”
Yemi pursed her lips, but she only nodded. “All right.” She frowned, shaking her head fretfully. “We were supposed to do this right. Sit down and make tea, talk through the next steps, but…that’s hardly happening now.” She gripped Dayna’s arms, glancing over at Reagan. “Listen, the both of you. You’ll have a power surge the next three days, and then you’ll level off. You’ll have to be careful not to eat too far into your regular stores of power in your enthusiasm.” She gave them both a sharp look. “You’ll set up your altar and pray to your goddess to renew your power at each new moon, but it takes a few days to recharge, so to speak, so don’t go through it too fast. Understand?”
Reagan mumbled her assent from the table, forehead pressed to the tea cozy she’d pulled off the pot.
Dayna nodded and then winced, head spinning. “Got it.”
Then Meiner appeared and helped pull Dayna to her feet. Dayna let Meiner steer her through the house and out to the car, hyperaware of Meiner’s hand on her arm as she steadied her.
Most of the ride was a blur. The burning in her chest kept surging, making her head swim. Several times she looked down at her fingers, almost positive she’d seen sparks coming from them. Like her entire body was a charged wire.
Now and again she caught Meiner looking at her. Her expression was hard to read.
When the silence had stretched between them long enough to be unbearable, Dayna cleared her throat. “I should say thanks, for saving me. I don’t know what Cora…what she was planning to do. So, um, thanks for that.”
Meiner glanced over, brows raised. When she shifted her gaze back to the road, Dayna thought she’d lost a bit of that stony countenance. “You’re welcome.”
A knot unraveled in her chest, and she slumped back in her seat. She might as well keep going. “And I’m sorry about being kinda standoffish when we first met…and…ever since.” She bit the inside of her cheek.
“By standoffish, do you mean acting like a total brat pretty much all the time?”
Dayna sat up straight, indignant, and then caught sight of Meiner’s grin and sat back. “Very funny. I think you enjoy setting me off.”
“You may be right.” Meiner slung one hand over the wheel. “It’s very easy.”
Dayna groaned, tipping her head back. “Could you please ask your car to stop spinning?”
Meiner snorted. “You’ll have to text me tomorrow, tell me if you have a killer hangover. I’m curious if magic drunk has the same consequences as regular drunk.”
Dayna wrinkled her nose. “Sure and I’ll call you. Maybe I’ll magic- drunk-dial you.”
Meiner laughed, and Dayna bit her lip, falling silent. She had so many questions, but she was sure they’d wipe the smile off Meiner’s face instantly.
After a second, Meiner sighed. “Spit it out.”
“What?”
“You clearly have questions.” Meiner tilted her head to look at Dayna, mouth quirking at the corner. “I’ll give you three. And no, I have no idea what happened to Cora, or why she went straight for your throat.”
Yes, that had been one of them. Dayna frowned. “Um, what happened with your gran…”
Sure enough, Meiner’s expression went immediately stony, and for a second Dayna thought she’d shut the whole conversation down. But then she sighed, expression softening. “That was the true Harriet King. I haven’t seen that side in months, but something about this place seems to have…I dunno, woken her temporarily.” Meiner’s lips twisted.
Dayna was startled by the surge of sympathy she felt, the impulse to reach out and touch Meiner’s hand. “What was she like before?”
Again, she was almost sure Meiner was going to shut down, the way her entire body tensed up…but after a second the older girl sa
id, “It’s hard to explain. She’s so different now. But she used to do the craziest shit when she was training us. Like…okay, I was having trouble learning a warmth charm once, and she locked me out for a full night. Middle of winter. She said it would teach me fast. I was nine.”
“Holy shit.” Dayna sat up straight, shocked. “That’s horrible.”
“I got the charm,” Meiner said grimly. “Took me all night, though.”
“Should have used it to burn the house down.”
Meiner’s brows shot up, and unexpectedly she broke into a grin. “Damn, that’s dark. I like it.” She turned back to the road, letting out a long breath. “Anyway, she did shit like that all the time. But now, it’s like it never happened. She just…gets to forget it all.”
“I’m sorry, that sucks,” Dayna said.
Meiner only shrugged. “As soon as I ascend, I’m gone.” A second later she blinked. “Uh, don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“I won’t.”
Meiner shifted in her seat, flicking her signal on. “Okay, you asked me all your questions, it’s my turn. Starting with, how are you feeling?”
Okay, changing the subject.
“Still feeling very drunk, thanks for asking.”
Meiner’s grin was back. “Question two, are you making-bad-greasy-food-decisions-type drunk? Or dial-your-ex-at-three-in-the-morning-and-confess-your-undying-love-type drunk?”
“Like, might actually go through with drunk dialing you in the small hours of the morning, if you’re not careful.”
“And what would you say if you phoned me drunk?” Meiner shot her a sly look.
Her grin was slightly crooked, Dayna noticed. Her stomach fluttered, and she told herself it was the tea. “I’m not answering that!”
“You have to, it’s my third question.”
She tugged at her seat belt. “I dunno. Crazy stuff.” She was fully aware she was approaching dangerous territory, only it felt like her head was wrapped in cotton, so what did it matter? “Like, girls are hot.”