by Lily Luchesi
Kit? Harley thought. Must be a pet name.
Caelum smiled at the nickname. “Do you hate me, Fangs?”
Another one, Harley thought. I think I might be sick.
Draven smiled and said, “Because you’re dating my goddaughter? No, I don’t hate you. It’s rather cute. After all, any happiness you can get, you have to hold tight to it. We know that from experience.” He smiled at Harley. “But now it seems that you need my help, and we should get on with it. And that means we need one more person, if we want to really get a good look into Salem’s past.” He turned to his left as another spirit began to take form next to him.
This spirit Harley couldn’t remember meeting in life, but that didn’t make her any less recognisable. Dark red hair the colour of blood, she stood out from the dreary whitish shade of the spirits, smiling a smile Harley had seen many times in her own mirror.
“Mum…” Harley felt her knees go weak.
“Hello, my beautiful little girl. Not so little anymore, are you?” Daphne’s eyes — Nick’s eyes — were streaming with tears. “How I wish I could have been there for you as a mother should.”
“I wish you had, too. All I ever wanted was to know you,” Harley said.
Daphne, a few inches shorter than her daughter, walked closer. Harley felt the chill on her skin from the spirit. “You grew up so wonderfully.”
“It was no small part because of Father,” Harley said.
Daphne’s smile widened. “It was Hell waiting for him to wake up and tell you who he was. Proud, stubborn bastard he is. But you inherited the best thing about him: his loving heart. And that’s why we are going to help you save him.” Her eyes cut to Caelum. “And you, Lynx, had better take good care of her. Or I’ll haunt you.”
That gave a little bit of levity to the situation as Harley and Draven laughed. Harley knelt down before the candle and looked up at her mother and godfather. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Caelum, add your hair after I add Father’s.”
He nodded, not taking his eyes off of his fallen friends until she told him it was time. He used the same spell Harley had on Salem’s hair and dropped it over the candle flame.
Harley then began the final spell: “I want to see the highest power, take me now in the past, right now at this hour bring me back at last!”
Chapter 1
Thirty years ago…
Ten-year-old Salem Sinclair stood at the edge of the castle, looking up in awe. He’d heard about coming to the Coven, the initial rite of passage in a young magician’s life, and now he was there. The age you began to attend the Coven’s school depended on your level of talent. Students as young as five could attend, though twelve was the average age of entrance.
Salem was proud of being the only one of seven ten-year-olds admitted this year and couldn’t wait to meet the others and begin learning.
He was boarding with a family who lived within the Coven borders, and one of the other ten-year-olds, Robert Ainsley, was going to be his roommate. Robert was late, so he hadn’t met him yet.
But right then he was alone. A small, sallow boy with large black eyes, he was afraid of being bullied. And he hated being afraid. If his father knew, he’d whip him upside the head with the newspaper.
Come on, he told himself. This is the least frightening thing in your life lately.
“You nervous, too?” someone asked.
Salem jumped, having not heard anyone approach. He turned to see who had spoken and came face to face with a girl. She was about his height with long, reddish hair and big, cornflower blue eyes. A few freckles dusted her nose, and her smile rivalled the sunlight.
Salem found himself at a loss for anything to say as he looked at her, and a blush crept up his neck, to his cheeks.
The girl wasn’t deterred by his silence or expression. She held a hand out. “I’m Daphne. What’s your name?”
That kicked Salem into gear a little. He took her hand, smaller and much softer than his. “Salem. Pleasure to meet you … Daphne.”
Daphne’s smile brightened even more. “Is it your first year, too?”
He nodded.
“Are you nervous? I’m nervous. Mother says I shouldn’t be, but I’m only ten,” Daphne continued, undeterred by his silence.
“I — I’m ten, too,” Salem said. “And yes, I suppose I am nervous. A bit.” He realised he hadn’t yet let her hand go and dropped it like it burnt him.
“Well, then, we’ll have to be friends. It’s not so scary with a friend, right?” she said. “Where do you live?”
“With the Steins,” he said. “With a couple of older kids and another boy my age, but he came late. We haven’t met. You?”
“My family lives in the Coven.” That made her smile falter a little. “The Frasers.”
If Salem hadn’t been mildly terrified already, he was now. Clan Fraser was one of the two original Clans who had helped Queen Mary found the Coven in the sixteenth century. The Frasers were considered part of the Light.
Clan Munro, the other Clan, was the Dark side. The Sinclairs were directly descended from Clan Munro, which meant that, as soon as Daphne found out what his last name was, she was going to hate him on principle.
Way to go, loser, he thought. You haven’t had a friend for five minutes before you’ll be running her off.
Daphne was still talking. “We’ve taken in students, of course. Three boys and a girl, all ten. I’m not sure if I like any of them yet. I’m used to being an only child. Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“Um, no, I’m used to being alone, too,” Salem said. “But I should tell you … I don’t think you want to be my friend.”
Daphne’s smile faltered then. “What? Why not? Don’t want to be friends with a girl?” She put her hands on her hips, almost challenging him.
Salem held his hands out, almost defensive. “No, that’s not it! I’m … my surname is Sinclair.” He saw the recognition pass over her face and resigned himself to being left behind, unworthy of her presence.
“So what?” she asked. “You didn’t walk away from me ’cos I’m a Fraser, did you? I don’t care that you’re Clan Munro. Do you care?”
That was a good question. He hadn’t been raised to hate Clan Fraser, but he had been told to be wary of them, that they were untrustworthy and flighty. But Daphne didn’t seem like either of those things to him.
“No, of course I don’t care,” he said.
“See? We’re friends, then,” Daphne said confidently.
Salem felt his face flame again under the wattage of her smile. He’d never had a friend before, not that he’d admit that to Daphne. It felt nice. And strange. Just as he was about to speak, he heard loud laughing and yelling behind him and before he knew it, he was sent sprawling, his knee banging against the stone steps.
Daphne, too, was knocked down, but not as badly, as two boys barrelled through them, barely noticing what they’d done until a third boy called out to them.
“Oi, that wasn’t nice, guys.”
The boy who’d yelled was so pale that he made Salem look tan, with red-rimmed eyes and lank brown hair. He had a severe scar under his left eye and down his cheek. He was far too thin and shabbily dressed, but he looked apologetic.
The two boys who had pushed them stood halfway up the steps, turned back now. One of them had swarthy skin and black hair that didn’t seem capable of staying flat. He was clad in a football club jersey and jeans.
The other boy was a little bigger, with eerie golden eyes and coiffed, wavy brown hair. He was clad in an outfit at once too posh for a boy of ten. He was smirking amusedly.
The first boy didn’t look at Salem. “I’m sorry, Fraser.”
“Yeah,” the second said. “We thought you were two old biddies, just standing there talking.” He sized up Salem. “You must be a Sinclair.”
“What about it?” he asked, puffing up and ready to defend his bloodline if this was someone else from Clan Fraser, ready to start trouble.
&
nbsp; “I’m a Lynx. Caelum Lynx.”
He wasn’t sure if this was worse. The Lynxes were almost as old as the Sinclairs, a family of half magicians, half shapeshifters. Their legacy was enmeshed in Dark magic and had been for centuries.
“I won’t stand for any Dark magic practised around me, so don’t bother trying,” Lynx continued.
“I don’t practise Dark magic!” Salem cried. “But I do hope that you don’t eat any of us come the full moon.”
Lynx rolled his eyes. “Sure you don’t. And neither do my folks. C’mon, Smith.” He tugged at the other boy’s sleeve and he followed him.
Smith turned back and said, “Fraser, you’re making some pretty lousy friends for your first day.”
The third boy walked up to them both. “Daphne? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Draven.” Daphne smiled at the sickly looking boy. “Salem? Oh, no, you’re bleeding!”
The boy, Draven, turned to look. Salem looked down and, yep, there was a small gash in his knee. He’d been so upset that he hadn’t even felt it until now, when it began to sting.
Draven’s eyes widened and he ran away, faster than Salem thought was possible.
“Huh. He must get sick at the sight of blood,” Daphne commented. “Here, let me help you. Mother wants me to be a Medic, and I’ve been practising my healing spells at home.” She held her hand over the wound and said, “Plaga reparo.”
Salem felt a tell-tale tingle in his knee, and for just a moment he saw magic sparkle bright pink over his wound. The wound vanished, and he was no longer in pain.
Was that her magic? Salem thought, looking at Daphne in shock. How could I see her magic for just a moment?
Only members of Clan Fraser could see others’ magical auras.
Daphne was oblivious to his stunned silence. “There,” she said, patting his knee. “All better now.”
She held her hand out to help him up and when he took it he again felt her magic tingle on his skin. While it was new and strange, he found it to be oddly warm and comforting.
“Come on, let’s go to class. We don’t want to be late on our first day,” Daphne said. She kept holding his hand as they walked up to the front doors of the castle.
“Have you ever been inside?” he asked her.
“No,” she replied. “My mother is an Elder, but I was never allowed to come with her when she had to go to work.”
They crossed the threshold together, entering the large front hallway. Wall sconces were lit, giving the grey stone a warm, orange cast. The main hall led in three directions: left, right, and straight ahead.
Others milled about, mostly teenagers, a few closer to their age. Talking, laughing, doing little bits of magic. It was a little daunting for Salem, but with Daphne’s hand in his, he felt like he could hold his own with everyone there.
No one had to wear uniforms, though the older students did have more elaborate black robes they wore over their clothes. It was easy to tell who was born in the Coven and who came from the human world by how they dressed. Coven made clothes were slightly posh and handmade. Human clothes were … well, they weren’t.
Smith and the boy named Draven wore human clothes. Daphne and Lynx didn’t. Salem wore handmade clothes, but that was more because his family was poor than because they wanted to keep up appearances.
The only people wearing anything resembling a uniform were the ones in grey cloaks: the apprentices.
Apprentices had been a large part of why Clan Munro and Clan Fraser split. When the original Coven Queen, Mary, had retired, she had appointed the leader of Clan Fraser as her successor. Robert Mor Munro, the leader of Clan Munro, was not only offended, but he was severely against apprentices. Clan Fraser was in favour of letting in normal humans who wanted to learn magic.
These humans could not harness the full power any natural born magician had, but they could create potions and perform simple spells and hexes. Munro believed that it was wrong to let humans into the Coven, especially after the original humans who resided there in Inverness, Scotland had tried to massacre each and every magician.
Things between the two Clan leaders became heated, and Clan Munro split away from the Coven. But not before Robert had murdered as many apprentices as he could find on his way out.
Clan Munro was only let back in again after Robert had been killed in the late nineteenth century. However, ever since they had made their return to the Coven, Clan Munro had been regarded as evil murderers. Indeed, some people in the Clan were terrible: Salem had met them. But there were atrocities committed by members of Clan Fraser as well, atrocities that went unnoticed and swept under the rug.
It was partly why Salem was so nervous going to the Coven school. He knew he would be ostracised and judged wrongfully simply for being born to the wrong family. However, he was the last person to value his Clan’s former ideals. His mother was an apprentice witch. She was the reason why the Sinclairs were no longer a family of high standing within the Clan.
“You okay?” Daphne asked quietly, breaking Salem’s thoughts.
He shook his head and turned to her. Her smile was still so bright. “Uh-huh. Simply taking it in.”
“C’mon, let’s head to the common room. It’s where everyone gathers between and before classes, or so Mother tells me,” she said, tugging on his hand.
He followed her ahead, where the long hall again split in two. To the left a sign said was the Main Hall. To the right was the Common Room. That was where the two kids headed, and Salem could hear commingled voices long before they reached the door.
The room they entered was so large, they could have fit possibly three of Salem’s parents’ houses inside of it. The ceilings were high, they and the walls and floor were made of the same dark grey stone as the rest of the castle. A dozen candelabras hung from the ceiling like chandeliers, drenching the room in warm light. There were couches, armchairs, tables, thick plush rugs, and even a few bean bags all over, with plenty of room for about half the Coven. The colour scheme was different shades of red, from the deepest maroon to bright, blood red. It gave the room a warm vibe.
A petite elderly woman sat at a desk near the front, watching the children amusedly while alternating writing on a long piece of parchment. On the corner of the table, a small grey tabby curled up on a small red pillow.
“Hello,” the woman said, looking at Salem and Daphne. “Welcome to the Coven. Take a seat and I will be bringing the new students up separately in a moment.” She gestured to the plethora of furniture.
Daphne led Salem to a pair of bean bag chairs and plopped down happily in one. She was so small, she was nearly swallowed up by it. Clawing her way to the surface, she laughed out loud, making Salem crack a smile.
He didn’t know many children, but he thought that Daphne had to be the happiest child he had ever seen. Light seemed to come off of her in waves.
Gingerly, he sat down in the other bean bag, feeling silly as he sank into the soft, synthetic material. Somewhere in his mind, he wondered if a human born magician had introduced them to the Coven during the seventies. Because they were unlike anything else in that room.
“You look like you’re sinking,” Daphne said as she giggled. “But then, so do I.”
“I feel rather daft,” Salem admitted.
“Yeah, you look it, too,” sneered a boy’s voice. Salem turned to see the boy named Smith and Caelum Lynx sitting near them on a small sofa. Smith was the one speaking. “Didn’t anyone tell you? That hairstyle went out of fashion when the Beatles broke up.”
Salem blushed deeply, feeling hurt at the comment.
“Oh, piss off,” Daphne said. Salem was surprised to hear the little girl swear. “Don’t you have something better to do than bother us?”
“Don’t you have something better to do than hang out with rubbish?” he retorted.
“Oi!” Salem said, letting his North London accent slip in his anger. “You do not know me. Don’t you dare call me rubbish.”
“At least he’s not going about insulting other people,” Daphne added. “You know, you weren’t so mean at my house. Mother won’t stand for it if I tell her.”
“Oooh, you’re a tell-tale, huh?” Caelum joined in. “I bet your mother won’t like that, either.”
“We don’t tease in our house,” Daphne insisted.
A clearing of a throat stopped the argument. “Children, if you would please, follow me,” Mrs. Donahue said, voice harsh. “You two as well.” She gestured to two kids Salem didn’t know, a blond boy and a girl with soft brown hair.
Everyone stood up and followed her out of the Common Room and down a hallway where classrooms began to appear, their doors large and imposing to Salem. The whole castle was imposing to him, having grown up in a tiny house near the Thames.
From the looks on Silver and Smith’s faces, they felt similarly.
The doors opened and revealed inside was a classroom. Salem had never known a classroom to be so large and ornate. The desks were made of deep, dark stained wood, obviously antiques. The ceilings were high and vaulted with cathedral like windows all along one wall.
“This is the Everyday Spells classroom,” Donahue said. “Since you are our only new students this year, your first day will consist of testing, to see what age group you all should be put with in each subject. Now, who can tell me a common, Everyday Spell?”
Daphne’s hand shot up.
“I can,” Caelum Lynx said.
“All right, you,” Donahue said, pointing at Caelum and ignoring Daphne’s quietly raised hand.
“Suce, it juices fruits and vegetables.”
“Excellent. Now, we’ll go down the line and introduce ourselves, and then each say an Everyday Spell and its uses. You may begin.” She gestured at Caelum.
“Caelum Lynx. I’m ten, from Sydenham. I’m a half shapeshifter. I already gave you a spell, Mrs. D.” The boy looked pleased with himself and his words.
“I’m Michael Smith. Human born, from Liverpool. The only common spell I know is volant, but that doesn’t apply to this class,” he said miserably.