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Hazel sighed one more time, trying to imbue herself with more confidence than she felt before jumping to her feet. The old floorboards creaked softly as she padded barefoot to the big arched window overlooking the large front yard and the tiny cul-de-sac the house was on. It had belonged to her grandmother, and her own mother for a short time before she left the coven, leaving Hazel to grow up basically on her own. She had been seventeen the last time she’d seen Sara Domitreu. It had been awful.
Even then Hazel had taken care of herself, kept the house taken care of, cooked and cleaned for herself. She had saved enough money working at a local shop to by her own car. Her mother had been flitting in and out of her life for as long as she could remember, and by that time she had been used to being on her own for long stretches of time. It was only hard when her mother came home.
She had gotten home from work one day to find her mother, Sara, frantically pacing the kitchen floor rambling about how she finally found it, had found the secret to unlocking her powers, or gaining them altogether, Hazel still wasn’t sure. She knew her mother had been one of those rare cases of a child born of a witch who didn’t have the spark. It had been a fact Sara accepted until her husband, Hazel’s own father, had been killed in a tragic, senseless car accident. And then, she had destroyed her life searching of a way to gain power, to find a way to bring him back, as impossible as that was.
Hazel had been shocked at first sight of her. Her normally dark, lustrous hair hung limp and dull across her too thin shoulder. Her collarbones stood out just above the loose sweater she was wearing as if she had lost a lot of weight too quickly. And her eyes, those beautiful, violet eyes just like her own had gleamed dull and lifeless, darting around the room, never stopping, never focused. Hazel didn’t even recognize the woman standing there as her mother at first.
Hazel shook her head, wishing she could shake off the bad memories just as easily. It had been over seven years, and still that night haunted her. Hazel had tried to calm her down, tried to reason with her or make sense of what she was saying, but Sara had fled back out into the night like a startled bird. And the next time she had heard any news about her mother was a call from a police station on the other side of the state saying that her body had been found and asking if she could come and confirm her identity.
Hazel glanced out at the quiet street one last time, checking the height of the sun just starting to sink into the line of trees like jagged teeth on the horizon. It was almost time to head to the sacred ground just outside of the Black Hills. Far enough away from any tourist or hiker that might stumble across them, but not so far it would take too long to get there.
She turned away, doubts once more filling her mind before she could stop them. She had to prove that she belonged there, that she really was a witch, not just to herself, but the mother guardian and the rest of the coven as well, and this might just be her last chance to do so. Hazel was heedless of the dust the hem of her dress kicked up, swirling into unnatural patterns around her feet before dissipating once more as she quickly strode from the small attic room and down the stairs to get ready.
Chapter 2
Her car spluttered loudly as she pulled off of the narrow gravel drive to the side of the small road, finally coming to a noisy stop as her brakes squeaked, protesting the continued use long after it probably should have been scrapped for spare parts. It was the same red junker she had bought when she was seventeen, although with a few more additions. She had to get new tires after running over that downed tree, and a new bumper after backing into Mr. Calowiki’s mailbox, who lived down the block. He still gave her an evil look whenever she drove by.
Not that it was her fault. It had gotten dark so early that night, and the cat had jumped out of no where. If she had to choose again between some rusty old mailbox and sparing the animal’s life, she would do the same thing every time. That mailbox hadn’t stood a chance.
Hazel paused for a moment after she turned off the engine, sending up a quick prayer to the goddess, the earth, the spirits, heck, anyone who would listen. She desperately needed things to go well for her that night. The coven was her family, now, and she couldn’t afford to lose them too.
