“Mom, please save my friend.” Desperation had softened her voice to a whisper.
Vina, the powerful and renowned witch whose name incited reverence, fear, and disdain. She was a cautionary tale of changing fate and using an unfortunate situation as a stepping stone into infamy, which she did when a battle between covens left her members nearly dead. Instead of saving their lives, she stole their magic. The power boost gave her the ability to defeat the other coven and to take their magic as well. The tales of the battle always depicted her as choosing the theft of her coven members’ magic over saving them to guarantee a victory over the rival coven. Many were convinced she’d betrayed her own coven, stealing their magic and leaving them unable to heal themselves or fight.
“You live without the burden of being judged by my actions because I’ve distanced myself from you. Calling on me like this will put your life at risk, and healing Kara will invite questions.”
“No one needs to know. Please.” Amelia’s voice broke. “She needs the help of magic—your magic. Don’t let her die.”
“Why does a draveth want Kara dead?”
“I don’t know, but if they make another attempt on her life, I can assure you it will be their last,” Amelia ground out angrily.
“You are indeed my daughter,” Vina boasted with a throaty chuckle.
“Prove there are more benefits to it than just my talent with spells. Give me more than just memories of a mother who chose magic over her daughter and who subjected me to a life of hiding who my mother is.” The pain in my best friend’s voice made her words a strained whisper.
Vina cradled my head in her hands. “Kara, open your eyes.”
It was a fight to comply. Fluttering erratically from the effort, my eyelids eventually parted.
Holding the bone-colored, torus-shaped object in her hand, Vina whispered, “What is this?”
My lips moved slowly in an attempt to tell her I didn’t know. But the words wouldn’t come. She examined it with interest before releasing me abruptly. My head dropped hard onto the pillow.
Her cool hiss of words to Amelia was barely audible. “I believe this attack was warranted. There are few reasons a draveth would want a person dead. Fear is usually the root of it.Andthere is the matter of the protection spell on her. Who is being protected? Is she being protected from us or are we being protected from her? And this?”
Vina’s movements were a series of blurs through my eyelids. I gave up on the fight to keep them open.
The pain from my attacker’s claws wasn’t isolated to my stomach. My body was a furnace. Unable to gather the strength to lift my arms, warm tears streamed down my face. Vina and Amelia gave up their attempt to debate in a hushed tone.
“Amelia, be cautious in this request. Are you sure? I fear you will regret saving this life.”
Amelia didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Save my friend.”
Minutes ticked by before the shadow of Amelia’s mother fell over me again. Placing a gentle hand above my wound, she spoke the invocation in a voice tight with reluctance. Cool sensations replaced the heat. It coursed over my body. Magic tunneled through my body. My skin tingled. I assumed it was mending the injured skin. Removing her hand, Vina studied my face before her attention went to my injury.
“She healed,” she said with a heavy sigh. “But the protection spell is gone. It’s only a matter of time before we learn who were the true recipients of this protection.”
Healed, but with my mind still clouded, I wrestled with unsettling questions. Why didn’t Vina want to save me? Who wanted me dead? And why?
To the world, I was a witch with meager power—the closest to a human without being one. No coven wanted me because my magic was so weak, I’d be more of a burden than an asset. Barely worthy of a second thought.
Apparently, I was.
Vina placed a hand on my upper arm and whispered another spell, placing me into a restorative sleep. The last thing I heard was Amelia’s refusal to let Vina keep the torus for research. I knew Amelia wouldn’t succeed in keeping Vina from it. She could never appeal to Vina’s desire for more magic and didn’t have the power to stop her by force.
Vina possessing the object was the least of my worries. Her claim played in a loop in my mind.
“I fear you will regret saving this life.”
1
The scent of sandalwood wafted from the witch who had sidled in next to me as I stood next to my car on the cobblestone-paved circular driveway. A dark-blue cap and an oversized white hoodie obscured his face. When he adjusted his messenger bag, it offered a glimpse of the ink on his forearm, which I assumed was part of a sleeve of artwork. I scanned his fingers for a coven ring. He wasn’t wearing one. It wasn’t required for witches to wear them, just a courtesy I appreciated immensely. There was a substantial benefit in knowing the type of witch I was dealing with.
“I was expecting someone else,” I said, breaking the silence and turning toward him. He glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to the house in front of us.
He shifted from side to side; I couldn’t tell if it was impatience or nerves.
“Sorry to disappoint,” his deep, graveled voice countered while he continued to look ahead, giving me a continuous view of his hoodie’s fabric.
