Death's Primordial Kiss (The Silvered Moon Diaries Book 1)

by Romarin Demetri

  Little did we know, things can exist, even if you can’t see them. Our teachers, mentors, and nurturers were no match for the unfathomable darkness that was waiting.

  We were the ones who had to fight for everyone else. We didn’t have guardian angels, luck, or a foretellable future. We would be the first ones to protect everyone when the first ones came back.

  Our entire history was a lie, and the foundations of our magic were impossible facades, and entirely unbelievable. We didn’t have ghosts to haunt us anymore. We had flesh and blood monsters that would stop at nothing. Everything we thought we knew about what we were protecting wasn’t what we thought at all. This whole time they had been watching and testing us, and at the right moment, they would reveal the world we thought we knew to be the most colossal lie ever to meet our ears.

  They would force us to be the ones to rewrite the history of magic.

  Chapter 2: The Other Elements

  Rose

  “No,” Stan said again, and that isn’t exactly something you want your mentor telling you, especially after three hours of elemental training, and not for the fifth time either. Especially not when he was tall, with jet black hair and the most breathtaking seafoam green eyes you’d ever seen. Ever. The three hours on my feet trying to manipulate fire was proving more difficult than my black belt test, but I wasn’t saying anything. I sure as hell wasn’t thinking anything. “You’re using ice to extinguish the fire, Avereis.”

  I sighed out with a shallow breath, trying to appear more even than my fatigue would will. Stan had to pay attention to my behavior to make any assumptions about my frustrated emotions. He couldn’t read people as I could, but then again, I was an empath.

  “I’m allowed to use ice,” I defended myself, putting my hands down.

  I turned around to face my mentor as a cool breeze signifying the end of summer drifted lazily through the courtyard that was boxed in on all four sides by the four-story Mew’s house. Standing dejectedly with my hands at my sides, shoes sinking into the grass off the stone path, I nudged a thin strand of blue hair from my face and locked eyes with my mentor.

  “No you’re not,” he replied coolly, his English accent accentuated harshly on his last word.

  “I’m a Changeling and control fire and ice—”

  “You’re a witch first,” Stan interrupted.

  “I’m an initiate witch for another year, and have a year to learn how to extinguish fire without using ice so I can be inducted permanently.”

  “This is the part where I tell you that you asked for this, isn’t it?”

  S tan stopped to look at me, raising his dark eyebrows just enough to show me he wasn’t exactly serious, but a smile was far from his lips. He was only two years older than me, and for someone who had been in my exact place before as an initiate on the London coven, he seemed too rigid and unforgiving.

  “He jokes,” I said with a smile, hoping to coax one from him, but Stan was in “If you fail, I fail” mentor mode. “Something isn’t clicking with me, but I’ll figure it out.”

  “Okay,” Stan answered. “We’ll meet this evening, and you better have a solution.”

  I hated when he said that after one of our lessons, his disappointment oozing out of him. His emotions were faint, but that was one I was catching all week, and integrated with my witch powers, it looked like a green mist in the air.

  I crossed my long-sleeved arms into each other and tugged at the collar of my shirt near my neck. I felt something happening just behind my eyes, and it wouldn’t be pretty.

  “What is it?” Stan asked.

  “I don’t know if I made the right choice,” I said faintly, unable to look him in the eye.

  “When you chose fire over water?”

  I couldn’t help being a nineteen-year-old girl, and my reminder came in the form of tears welling up in my eyes. I was a second-degree black belt and only one of five witches sworn to protect the city of London as the London coven, but here I was, on the verge of waterworks.

  My mentor noticed, and his verdant eyes widened in alarm, and quite uncomfortably he asked, “What are you doing Avereis?”

  Usually, I could stop it, but I was so exhausted that I couldn’t switch my emotions from gloomy to content like I usually could. I didn’t remember the last time someone had seen me cry, but the last person who had was probably my best friend, Helaine. I hated the vulnerability welling up in my eyes, but if anything could make me feel this helpless, it would be the thought that my future was on the line.

  “I’m not doing anything,” I said, my eyes betraying me, glossy, and now dripping.

  Stan looked confused, guilty almost, and he just froze looking at me, as if there was something on my face that was worse than tears.

  Helaine peeked out the window of the conservatory, staring into the courtyard where we were at, a cup of tea in her hand, and I could tell she saw the look on my face by the way she flung open the door, not bothering to put shoes on she stepped outside to join us in her socks.

  “Stanley, what did you bloody do?” she asked my mentor, walking into the slightly brisk courtyard and standing next to me protectively.

  “I’m fine!” I told both of them harshly.

  “I didn’t do anything!” Stan told Helaine. “I was just standing there and then… that happened.”

  “Can you give us a moment?” Helaine asked Stan.

  “I’d love nothing more,” he said, excusing himself.

  When Stan left for the safety of the house, Helaine forced her cup of tea into my hand and sat down with me on the outdoor sofa. Her brown eyes nearly glared at me for my outburst, but her smile held pity, which I didn’t ask for. As her auburn eyebrows raised, I knew she was about to lecture me.

  “So you’re this ass-kicking martial artist who was the first to initiate under an element different than her ancestral one. One of the toughest people I know. What gives?”

  I stopped myself from full on crying, but I did wipe at one of my watering violet eyes before I spoke.

  “I think I made a mistake… and I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “I don’t think it’s you. You’ll be fine,” Helaine assured, crossing one of her cold feet over the other. “I think it’s the teaching methods—and I’m not saying Stan isn’t helping—I’m saying that maybe you need to try something else. You’re not having dreams again, are you?”

  I looked towards the doors that led into the conservatory that was just off the kitchen, in the direction my mentor had left.

  “No,” I said accusatorily, lowering my voice. “I do not even remember most of my dreams lately, and they certainly don’t have to do with kissing anyone that I shouldn’t be kissing.”

  “I got you to stop crying,” Helaine said in light of my embarrassment. “I’m sure I have dreams like yours all the time but don’t remember them.”

  “You also didn’t accidentally invoke the goddess of fire and have a great powers mix up during the Wiccan holiday of Imbolc in February.”

  “That’s probably true,” she said compliantly.

  Ever since that day nearly three seasons ago, I knew I held a more significant amount of power than I could comprehend, but that didn’t mean that I knew how to control it. Invoking Brigid, the goddess of the hearth sent my hormones into overdrive and made me think things I shouldn’t; Things that made no sense.

  “Do you see why my powers are such a mess, Helaine?”

  “Okay, so fire is fueled by passion… see Imbolc--but also justice, so maybe we need to wait for a good old crime to spring up in the London Underground and then you can get in touch with fire that way. Maybe work with Gregory since he’s practically the coven’s CSI unit.”

  “That isn’t a bad idea,” I admitted. Only my best friend could completely turn my bad day around in sixty seconds. “I stole your tea, let me get you more.”

  I led Helaine back inside, through the greenhouse conservatory of The Coven’s mew’s house, thinking she was right. I
liked justice and knowing that I was doing the right thing, and my need for righteousness could fuel the passions that I needed to feed the fire and control my element.

  Stan was still around, standing at the table that separated the bright kitchen from the cozy living room that was just around the corner. All of our shared common areas were on the ground floor, and I was happy that he hadn’t retired up to his room upon witnessing me crying.

  “You alright?” Stan asked me, holding a letter in his hands, keeping a distance with his eyes.

  “Nothing to worry about,” I assured. “I’m just nineteen and a woman. This is completely normal, and I’m not sorry. But, if you could get me a crime or a murder to put my energy into, I think that’ll help me get in touch with what controls fire.”

  “I only see ghosts,” Stan reminded me. “I don’t cause them.”

  I smirked, pouring Helaine a new white mug of tea and handing it over to her. I loved how clean our kitchen was with its white tile and matching dishes. The countertops were made from sealed concrete, including the five-person kitchen island, which always made the room appear incredibly glossy.

  “What do you have there?” Helaine asked Stan, sensing the need to change the subject as only a best friend could.

  “Must you be increasingly obtrusive?” He asked her.

  “If I hadn’t made it as water on the London Coven, I would have turned out to be an investigative reporter,” Helaine reminded him. “You’ve gotten a lot of letters lately, maybe more than Maddi. How is your new persona going?”

  “My true identity?” Stan asked. “Now that I took back my enchantment and the underground knows I’m from the royal family…” he gestured at her with the letter in his hand. “See for yourself.”

  Helaine set her tea down on the counter and fixed her cascading red hair behind her right ear before taking the letter from Stan, Spirit in the London Coven.

  “Dear Hades, King of the Underworld,” Helaine nodded, “You are by far my favorite of the five serving on the London Coven. I want to…” her auburn eyebrows creased in confusion, and a laugh played across her mouth as she finished the sentence she was on in her head. Stan’s power as Spirit was telepathy, so no doubt I was the only one in the room who didn’t know what it said. “Well, that’s a long list of demands.”

  “It sounds even longer as your thoughts,” he commented palpably.

  “Smart ass,” Helaine said as she handed Stan back the letter and turned to me. “You don’t want to read that.”

  Truer words had never been spoken. My hot and heavy dreams after my powers mix up from being not only an empath who could change and read emotions but also a fire witch capable of invoking Brigid, resulted in my subconscious taking the form of my mentor, were about Stan. I blamed my id, but Helaine seemed to think I might harbor feelings for Stan which was out of the question. After learning what had really happened the night I invoked Brigid on accident, I had been able to talk my goddess-infused subconscious down, and the dreams had stopped. Stan was an authority figure, which wasn’t my type, and since someone had killed Helaine just about a month ago, my focus wasn’t on boys, it was making sure witch hunters weren’t coming back for her.

  “It’s normal,” Stan told us. “Instinctive urges people have are, and I know the letters are just from my status in society. It doesn’t bother me, but it is excessive.”

  “I know how you feel,” Helaine, the President’s daughter spoke up, “but maybe there’s a tasteful letter in there somewhere. You should read them.”

  “Or sell them to The Chatting Cat,” Stan joked.

  “We live on public servant stipends which are more than enough to live comfortably,” Rose reminded him, “but hold onto those in case you hit hard times after your decade on the coven is up.”

  “I have a feeling the King of England will let me live with him,” Stan replied.

  “Speaking of siblings, I’m off to meet Brittany,” Helaine said, grabbing her sage-colored cloth cross-body bag from the long kitchen island. “I haven’t seen her in months. I’m sure there is a good story or two in there.”

  “Have fun,” I smiled, hiding my dislike for the way Brittany didn’t reach out sooner upon finding out Helaine had died a little over a month ago. We were permitted to tell our families, especially since Helaine’s father was the president of the underground, but beyond that, we had to keep it a secret, because Stan’s power to bring people back from the dead was probably the last secret the coven held after the rules reformation twenty years ago. Before that, the existence of Spirit was an absolute, uncontested secret. It was ironic that Stan would have liked it that way better.

  “See you later,” Helaine bade us.

  Maddi and Gregory were talking loudly when they came into the kitchen. The early noon hours were morning for us since we stayed up well into the night like the other paranormals in London.

  “Gregory,” I said at once. Hopefully, he couldn’t tell I just had a breakdown. “I need a crime. Do you have anything?”

  “You’ll have to ask another genie with dreadlocks,” he answered, “All my wishes for the day have been used up.”

  “You mean you smoked the whole bottle up?” Maddi jabbed.

  Gregory grinned a moment, but then he turned back to me.

  “Are your powers okay?”

  “Are her powers okay?” Maddi echoed to Stan, whipping her brown eyes so quickly over to him, that I was unsure of how her purple hair stayed still.

  “Yes and no,” Stan and I said in unison, taking me aback. Apparently, I had spent too much time with him over the past year, but I was happy that lately, it hadn’t been in my nightmares.

  “I’m not extinguishing fire using my power. I’m using ice in place of it.”

  “Well, that isn’t too bad. It should be helpful for when you learn the other elements,” Gregory said with the assurance of an Earth witch.

  “The other elements?” I gapped. Mine was fire, and I was focusing on fire. “No one told me I’d have to be the Dave Grohl of elemental magic!”

  “Stan didn’t tell you?” Gregory asked, as I sensed that he feared Stan would be mad that he told me.

  “No, he didn’t,” I said to Stan.

  “If you want to use the power of light, you’ll have to, but one thing at a time, alright?” Stan said.

  I felt like I was going to cry again, and not just because my entire future and purpose in life was at stake here. A mixture of emotions from the other coven members displayed as cool colors, meddling with each other and turning into a murky pale blue threatened the room: Stan was faintly annoyed, Gregory was fearful that he was over-stepping his bounds, and Maddi was defensive of me to Stan, but also defensive of Stan to Gregory.

  “I’m going to go paint now, up in my room, if you all want to give me an hour or so. I appreciate your concern—believe me, mine is just as strong, but I need a break after my three-hour lesson, or I won’t get anywhere.”

  I didn’t leave room for argument on behalf of my peers. I respected them, and even though they had been on the coven longer than me, they recognized my need for space too.

  “I hope your canvas turns out lovely,” Maddi said.

  I nodded.

  I sighed as I rounded the corner into our cozy living room and set my sights on the stairs. The stairwell that was in line with the front door was decorated with pictures of witches from the past. My eyes always traveled to my grandfather standing with the other witches in his coven, light brown hair and a neutral disposition, and today I reflected guilt back at his photo. I was trying my best to reconcile my family for him, and I hated that my best wasn’t enough.

  I passed Maddi’s floor and made it up to the third floor, walking past Stan’s room which was right next to mine; a reminder that my mentor was always looking over my shoulder.

  My room was my safe place, and there was nowhere else I could be that made me feel this serene, and I knew that as soon as I stepped inside of it, I felt safe and alone. I
t had painted it a medium cerulean blue, and nearly matched my blue hair that started as a pale blue at the roots and then darkened to navy as it hit the middle of my back. My familiar purple crocheted blanket my aunt Kalista made me covered my bed, reminding me of home, and making me a little sick for the smell of coffee and fresh linen from my childhood memories. The crocheted blanket matched my eyes, and I realized that this home I had made at the coven’s mews house was a true testament to who I was.

  I shut the door behind me and leaned against it.

  How could Stan not tell me that I’d need to learn all four elements with proficiency before completing initiation? What else had he left out during the past year?

  Because worry doesn’t motivate you, Rose.

  A felt a scathing look appear across my face as my temper rose higher. A room next to Stan was enough, but the Spirit element’s telepathy was extra invasive.

  My door is shut, I thought back. While Stan couldn’t read my mind if I wasn’t dictating my thoughts, he could easily pick up directed thoughts.

  I want to apologize.

  I swung open my door, glad that I was now past tears and to the livid stage of my problem-solving.

  “Go for it,” I told him, watching him come up the steps. I leaned into my door frame with my arms crossed.

  “I didn’t tell you because I don’t want you to worry. The other elements always come naturally. You’ll see different colors in your fire, and that’s when you know you’re ready to start training with the other elements. It’ll happen.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “It will. But if it didn’t, you have me, Gregory, Maddi, and Helaine, all of which don’t dislike you as much as the rest of London does right now. None of us want to see you fail so a family member of ours can take your spot. Eddy’s twenty-two, which is two years too old to be inducted, and I’m fresh out of siblings to have inducted in your place.” The smiled I was looking for on his face earlier appeared. I suddenly felt less offended. “You’re our friend.”