She paid close attention to me while I examined her accoutrements, wondering if they were for fashion or held some significance. I ignored the people who accompanied her and the fact they’d let themselves into my home undetected. I’d left the door unlocked, but their silent navigation through the house spoke to a stealthiness I didn’t like.
She offered William a pleasant welcoming smile. The warmth in her expression quickly became pensive when she noticed my furtive glances at her fingers in search of a coven ring.
“kinborn witches don’t wear a coven ring because our magic is not like theirs, so we don’t adhere to their practices,” Layla provided.
I guess I wasn’t being as sly as I thought.
The man standing next to her had a stony disposition that faltered enough to give me an unenthusiastic smile that revealed deep dimples even from the minute expression. From the intensity of his gaze as he took in the scene, I predicted there’d be no smiles coming from him anytime soon. Standing well over six feet, he towered over Layla and the woman standing behind her. Umber-brown skin, a fade with hues of auburn highlights in dark-brown hair. A close-cut beard covering what I suspected was a sharply angled jaw, if his cheekbones were anything to go by. I’d estimated his age between twenty and thirty but couldn’t narrow it down further from his reserved demeanor and casual appearance of a simple blue t-shirt that pulled over his muscular chest, and well-worn relaxed jeans. His sharp russet eyes led me to believe he was closer to thirty.
The woman with a rich, tawny complexion appeared diminutive next to Mr. Dimples. Placing her at five feet was probably generous. Her thick, tight curls were pinned into an updo. A pattern of waves resulted from her attempt to sleek down the curls. Heart-shaped face and wide-angled eyes contributed to a youthful appearance that put her in her late teens or early twenties. She’d shoved her hands into ripped, oversized jeans. The black fitted crop top revealed a piercing. Based on her jewelry and makeup, I assumed she’d been called away from something to be here. Her curiosity appeared to supersede any issues she may have had with the interruption of her night.
The three didn’t seem related, but there was an evident kinship. It could be linked to their shared magic that was so potent it stifled the room.
I was moving forward to greet them when the youngest woman quickly approached me, invading my space and stunning me into stillness when she cupped my chin and inspected me. Blowing out a grumbled sound of discontent, she released my face with a flourish. Looking over her shoulder at her companions, she frowned. I quickly noticed the distance they put between me and them.
“What?” I asked.
“You feel peculiar. Familiar but unknown,” she admitted, her brows inching together as she continued to study me.
“We’re not family,” she said, waving her hand at the others. I appreciated the response to my unasked question, which only led to even more questions. Was she that perceptive or could she read my mind?
“I can’t read your mind,” she said. Seems like something a person would say if they didn’t want to give away the advantage of their special gift.
“You keep staring at us as if you’re trying to find a family resemblance,” she said. After a few moments of silence and her monitoring me, a small smile lifted her lips. “We found each other,” she provided, responding to the curiosity that was definitely all over my face. They intrigued me and, judging by the way their eyes lingered on me, it was mutual.
“Like we sensed one another.” From her tone, sensing each other was significant. I wished I knew why. “After visiting a friend, I was driving through Darren’s neighborhood when I felt this strange and intense draw that wouldn’t go away. The farther I drove from the area the more insistent the pull became. I turned around, got out of my car, and started walking. I ran into Darren who’d been searching for me.” She turned to give him anaffectionate smile. They might not have been related, but there seemed to be a familial bond between them. “He’d been fishing at the pond when he sensed it, too. Darren and I were together when we discovered Layla.” She moved closer to me and gave me another unrelenting once over. And frowned. “It seems like we should have found you, too.”
“Jamillah, she wasn’t found because she has no ties to our magic.” Layla’s curt reply made Jamillah snap her mouth shut, holding back any comments or rebuttals she was considering. The rejection was like a papercut, small but painful. It was unsettling, but why?
Was my magic too weak to be aligned with theirs, or was it something altogether different? So different and nefarious that a draveth came for me, and someone else attempted to curse me. The rejection was an unwelcome reminder of Vina’s parting words, which were playing in a loop in my head.
Layla’s response made me feel untethered, empty. And I hated that feeling. I damn sure wasn’t an alchemy witch, despite their willingness to accept me into their coven. Nothing about my magic pointed to any of the other witches. Although unable to pinpoint it, something about these witches’ magic spoke to me. The aura was different. It thrummed through the room like a powerful wave. It should have been unsettling, but I found comfort in it.
Could the feeling of comfort be born out of magical familiarity or the feeling that they were powerful enough to meet any challenge?
Overwhelmed and uncomfortable by my response to the trio and wanting to hide it from the overly perceptive Jamillah, I turned to direct my attention to Amelia.
“Why did you ask me here?” Layla asked William. While glancing at him, I caught an intense wordless exchange between Jamillah and Darren. It held so much in it that I wondered ifthey were able to communicate telepathically. Alchemy witches were able to create temporary links to communicate with each other, but the magical debt left them exhausted for days. The spell was usually done as a last resort.
I had so many questions about the trio and their magic, but they needed to be delayed. Amelia was my priority. Darren approached her side, peering at the markings on her arm. They’d inched farther up.
“It’s a siphoning curse,” he asserted. His lips moved slowly in what I surmised was an invocation.
“Our magic is interconnected and pulled from those who practiced it before us. Out of reverence for those who came before us, we don’t use it without requesting permission from those who made it possible,” Jamillah whispered. She’d slipped in next to me without my notice. Her explanation earned a sharp look of disapproval from Layla. Jamillah rolled her eyes.
I made a note to invite her for coffee or lunch at a later time. If I wanted to learn more about their magic, Jamillah seemed to be the best source. I’d gathered that their magic was ancestral, but that was just a surface understanding. Their practice of reverence and appreciation had some similarities with verdant witches, who demonstrated a form of gratitude to the earth and plants if they had to use it or destroy parts of it to perform their magic. I liked that about verdant magic. It wasn’t just about taking but appreciating that something was lost for the creation of their magic. It made them the most cautious of the covens. Some perceived them as weaker for it. I never saw it that way.
But there was something more complex and unique about this trio’s magic than simple reverence and appreciation.
Darren’s hands moved over Amelia. The markings changed from gold to pearl before some of the lines receded. Sweat beaded on his brow. His pupils widened until they were completely black. The gold and white moving over the markingson Amelia engaged in a fitful battle that sparked, melded, and strummed chaotic energy through the room. Then Darren slammed against the wall on the other side of the room, panting and convulsing. Color had returned to his eyes, but they were darker. They rolled up and disappeared, then he stopped moving.
Jamillah rushed to him, pulling him into her, wrapping her arms around him, reciting a spell in their shared language that eventually brought him to. Several minutes passed before he fully recovered. Once he was completely aware without any signs of residual symptoms, he curled into Jamillah. Layla’s worried eyes sharpened each time they slipped in my direction.
Darren finally rose, smoothing a hand over his beard. Concern flickered across his face, tinged with a hint of chagrin. I assumed that these witches were so formidable they had never encountered a spell they couldn’t dismantle or defeat.
“It is a curse. A great sacrifice was made for it. The person who invoked the curse will have to reverse it.” His lips lifted into a small plaintive smile before all emotion cleared from his face. “Or the magic must be released from the owner.”
A refined way of saying that the curser would have to be killed to break it.
