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“Oh no, you don’t. If you escape, I’m going to be the one in trouble.”
“Dru, help me!” she begged.
“Sorry, not even a goddess can save you from your mother,” I replied, opening the door to see Mrs. Reyes there in all her fury.
“Magdalena Varela Reyes!” She rolled her Rs so hard calling Magdalena’s name it felt like a spell by itself.
“Hi!” Magdalena grinned at her mother, who glared down at her.
“Home. Now!” she screamed at her. And just like that, Magdalena went running. “Good night, Druella. Get some rest,” was all she said to me before she, too, turned back to head home.
“You too,” I said, closing the door.
“Druella, can you come in here for a moment.” My uncle’s voice came from the den. Instantly, I wanted to make like Magdalena and run away, too.
I really need to move out. I moved from the door to the den right beside it, sliding the door open. When I stepped inside, he was standing in front of his bookcase, reading with one hand and lifting his mug of coffee with the other.
“Uncle, coffee is not water! Please stop drinking so much at night—or at all.”
“We all have our vices and this mine.” He grinned and nodded for me to sit in front of his desk.
“I feel like I’m at the principal’s office whenever you do this,” I said as I relaxed back into the seat.
“I wouldn’t have to call you in here if you talked to me, Druella,” he stated, setting his mug down before sitting down and folding his arms on the table. He spent so much of his time working on the coven or with the elders that people often forgot what his day job was—a therapist. While it might seem great to have a trained professional to talk to on hand, it actually made it harder to talk to him growing up. But he often did this, tried to take off the uncle and coven leader hats and get me to talk to him like I was a client of his.
“What has been on your mind?” he pressed.
“You mean other than the fact that you proclaimed I was a goddess in front of half the coven?” I snapped, crossing my arms over my body. “It is not as if I don’t have enough on me, Uncle. It is not as if everyone wasn’t already wondering about my magic. I don’t fit in with the humans. I don’t fit in with the Wiccans.”
“Being powerful does not mean you do not fit in—”
“That’s exactly what it means, and you know it,” I replied.
“So, have you been suppressing your magic in order to fit in more?” he questioned.
I frowned. “No, I have not. Do you think I am? And that’s why I can’t summon whatever weapon you want me to summon? Is it a book, by the way?”
He leaned back curiously. “Why do you think it is a book?”
Dang it. Sorry, Magdalena.
“Why did you tell them the stupid prophecy?”
“Why do you think it is stupid?”
Ugh. “Uncle, are we just going to ask each other questions all night?”
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“Are we?”
He smiled knowingly while my shoulders fell. I couldn’t beat him at this, and he wouldn’t let me off until he was a least somewhat satisfied.
“It is stupid to me because the daughter of Circe prophecy has been around since, I don’t know—forever. Even you told me about it when I was like five or six.”
“And you thought it was amazing and couldn’t wait for her to come.”
“Yes, her to come. Why do I have to be her, though?”
