Chapter 1
Marriagetoawitchor any lower class of magic results in a dilution of power. A fae’s magic is no less brittle than it is beautiful, and so one cannot be too guarded in ensuring separation between the races.
The large tome shifted in my lap as I balanced on my stool and reached up to adjust my glasses. Potions bubbled in miniature cauldrons nearby, where my mom and sister worked away at their witchy concoctions.
I graspedThe Fae’s Blessing: Sacred Versesand squinted down at the small text in the dull candle lighting of our stuffy basement. The centuries old paper felt cool and dry under my fingers. The religious writings of the fae werescrawled in ancient ink and gave off the scent of dusty parchment that would linger with me for the rest of the day. I breathed in deeply and let the smell fill me before hugging the book to my chest.
I couldn’t get enough of combing through the old holy texts. It was both inspiring and confounding. Many of the passages stole my breath away and made me understand life in a whole new light. And yet I was a witch—well, a half-human that was a witch—and some passages condemned any association with my kind.
But I was also half-fae, too.
“Kitty! What on earth are you doing?” Mom ran up to my weeping sister. “You put in too much pearl dust! How many times do I have to tell you? Brewing love potion is an exact art. There is a fine line between obsession and possession.”
Instead of a healthy rose color, the cauldron in front of Kitty billowed putrid green smoke. My sister wiped at her face, her hair uncharacteristically askew and her mascara smeared. “I’m sorry.” She sniffed. “I-I got a little distracted.”
Mom cut me an accusatory glance. “And who was supposed to be helping you?”
Theoretically, I knew when it started to get cold people tended to pair off for the winter. Fall was the perfect time for love potions and Mom wanted to ensure we had enough on hand.
I motioned to the book in my lap. “I’m reading a holy text like I usually do before church.”
Mom shook her head. Her graying golden hair that she’d spent the morning curling bobbed in rhythm. “It’s always an excuse with you, Mary. You’re always working on your fae ability or that silly internship.”
“It’s not silly!”
“And when you’re not doing that, you’re reading. Constantly.”
I straightened. “Knowledge is one of the few things worth pursuing in life.”
She huffed. “Only if you don’t know any men.”
Mom maintained that the highest priority in life was marrying off her daughters, with potion-making a respectable runner-up. As for me, in my twenty-three years, I’d avoided brewing and anything too witchy as much aspossible. And as to the other point, she was right. I didn’t know any men.
She turned back to Kitty and threw up her hands, casting my sister an exasperated glance. “This is the third potion you’ve wrecked this week. Honestly, do you think these ingredients grow on trees?”
To be fair, some of the ingredientsdidgrow on trees, but the crushed essence of pearls didn’t, and it was particularly expensive to acquire. Witches needed supplies or objects in order to do magic, whereas fae power was more innate.
A groan escaped Mom as she examined the potion. “We won’t be able to use this batch.”
The forlorn look in Kitty’s eyes made my insides twinge. My poor sister was suffering the ill effects of a recent breakup. While it may not be something new—I always had a sister in some sort of relationship crisis—it had really affected her normal cheery manner. And unlike my other sisters, Kitty occasionally acted like I was worth spending time with. I loved my family. Everyone was so different. However, I didn’t always feel as if they understood me.
For my nineteen-year-old sister, Lydia, chasing men was the only thing worthy of her attention. I knew Jane and Lizzy cared for me, but they no longer lived at home and were busy with their careers.
Slipping off my stool, I shut my tome, placing it carefully on my seat before turning to Kitty. “I’ll help clean up.”
Mom turned off the Bunsen burner, waving a hand through the uncharacteristic amount of steam billowing into the room. “Just leave it. We don’t want to be late for church.” She took off her apron and ran her hands over her pristine pantsuit. “Kitty, hurry and tidy yourself up. And where is Lydia?”
I exchanged a glance with Kitty. Lydia was last seen leaving her window wearing a yellow polka dot bikini and jean shorts, shoes in hand.
“Not sure, but I don’t think we’ll see her at church today,” Kitty said.
“Where is she? In her room?”
“More like heading out of it an hour ago,” I said. It was a completely illogical thing to do, considering Mom wouldn’t care even if Lydia strolled out the front door inbroad daylight. She encouraged my youngest sister in all her silliness. A lifetime of gathering data on this point had proven me right.
The anxiety in Mom’s face eased and an indulgent smile curled her lips. “Out the window, no doubt. Clever girl.” She waved a hand. “Oh well, you two go. I’ll be there soon.”
I grabbed the aged tome off the stool, pressing it against my chest as I climbed the two flights of stairs to where our glamoured living space behind the shop was located. Someone had strung pumpkin Halloween lights in the hallway, creating an orangish hue over the photos of my sisters and me through every awkward phase of life. Kitty followed me up the steps, giving a soft sniff, indicating her dreary mood hadn’t lifted.
