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“Bye, Dru!” She ran from behind me as if she were a cheetah, making sure to wave to her mother as she cut through our lawn. However, she missed a step, slipped, and rolled.
I bit back a snort. “Hmm.”
“I’m okay,” Magdalena yelled as she got back up and ran again.
“What am I going to do with her?” Her mother loudly exhaled before she turned back to me. “Maybe I should ask your uncle, seeing as how you also saw fit to join her this morning instead of correcting her.”
“I—”
“Save it for the meeting,” was all she said as she walked back to her house.
Dammit.
Regina Reyes was one of the elders. We called them elders even though Mrs. Reyes was only in her early forties because…well, because there weren’t that many witches left of the older generations. Fighting an eternal war against vampires tended to cut our life spans a bit shorter than we’d like. Maybe that was why she’d chosen to have Magdalena so late in life. Because we were neighbors and because of how close Mrs. Reyes was to my uncle, I’d known Magdalena all her life. She was like a little sister. And she had no problem acting like it, either, always poppi
ng up either in my room or my car. But since I didn’t have any real siblings, it didn’t bother me. I actually looked forward to seeing her hopeful and excited face.
Closing the garage, I took off my boots, wishing more than anything else for a hot shower, a warm meal, and then a few hours of sleep before I had to get to work. But it wouldn’t be possible. I was late as it was. Taking off my leather jacket, I walked down the hall into the spare bedroom, taking a deep breath before I approached the large, golden-framed mirror leaning against the corner. Everyone in our coven had one as it was the only entrance into the sanctuary, and only an Omeron witch could say the spell to enter. Well, almost every Omeron witch. Except for me.
I didn’t need a spell. I had never needed spells.
“Druella,” the mirror spoke as I touched it, allowing my hand then the rest of me to pass through it. I walked into it and came out on the cliff, not just any cliff, but the place where the sun neither set nor rose, a place of frozen dawn or forever twilight. There were no birds in the sky, no animals crawling upon the ground, even the water in the distance was still. It was as if I had stepped into a painting, motionless in time.
Nothing could move in here except witches. It was the one place we could trust and knew we were safe using our magic as we liked.
Standing on the very edge of the cliff, overlooking the still sea, dressed in a gray sweater and dress pants, was my uncle, drinking his morning coffee in the #1 Uncle mug I’d made for him when I was ten…like always.
“Uncle, sorry I am—” Throwing my hands up quickly, I froze the shards of ice pointed at me like a thousand dangers. “Really, Uncle? I’ve been up all night!” I snapped. I swiped my hand over them, and they melted, falling to the ground as pools of water.
He turned back to me, the corner of his lips turned upward with amusement. “So have I, but you don’t see me complaining, now do you?”
I rolled my eyes and walked up to him. “You have coffee.”
“You don’t like coffee. But if you want some…”
“Uncle—ugh!” I sneered, freezing the coffee he had sent flying into my face and whisking it back into his mug. “Can you please let me off today? I’m sorry I’m late.”
He always did this. Made every meeting a mini-training session. You’d think he’d be satisfied I could handle small things like this now, or at the very least, let me try something new. But nope. Each time, he was exactly like this.
“Heat it up for me,” he demanded, lifting the cup to me.
I frowned. “Am I your intern?”
“Pretty please,” he said with a small smile…less coven leader and more father-ish, and there was no way I could ignore it.
Reaching over, I touched the mug and heated it until the steam rose from the black liquid.
He inhaled the scent before lifting it to his lips, taking one sip before nodding. “Perfect temperature.”
“Thanks. It’s not like I haven’t done it most of my life,” I replied.
It was hard to describe my uncle. He was less like my uncle and more like my father. It didn’t help the fact that he and my father were twins—identical twins. It made me sometimes wonder if my father would be like him if he were still alive. Sure, he would have dark-brown skin and eyes, gray hair in his chin and hair, but would his voice be the same? What about his personality? Would he have been as hard on me? Would he demand I always practice my magic, as well? Or would he be more fun-loving and want to go on camping trips with me. I guess I couldn’t be too greedy. I got to see a walking, talking replica of my father. My mother, on the other hand, I only had a few photos of her, none of which were very clear.
“Your magic is getting stronger. You are more stable and more relaxed as well. Good.”
“It doesn’t feel any stronger,” I replied, rolling out my shoulders.
“We will be doing the summoning spell again today,” he said before taking another sip.
