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It was a whole lot to absorb but I was taking it all in. And she was observing me closely as I did.
The Young coven had overseen the area for generations, striving to keep things in balance because of how much magic was present. Aunt Lyrica told me that when there’s a high concentration of magic in an area such as this, it has to be carefully managed.
She explained that the sheer number of supernaturals that settled here, lived, loved, and died here over the past two and a half centuries meant that this area had a very high concentration of supernatural energy. I would learn a lot about energy in my study of our craft.
I wasn’t shocked to learn that there were supernatural forces at work. Or that our family was deeply entwined with it. I’d always believed in magic. As little girls, me, Dani, and Jessie would play games with magical themes. Though I was the youngest, I seemed to have the biggest thirst for magical roleplaying games. But we had to do it in secret, or it would send our mother into a tizzy.
Now I knew why.
Aunt Lyrica broke it to me that though Mom and Dad’s death came as a shock, it was not a surprise. The family had warned them against taking us away, about keeping our nature from us. Aunt Lyrica swore that neither herself nor Aunt Mimi had anything to do with their deaths, that they had resigned themselves to the fact that maybe the Young coven would cease to exist after they were gone, that maybe times were changing. That perhaps they should look to another coven nearby to take on our region. They were nervous about that, but said they hadn’t intervened beyond trying to talk sense into our mother and father, warning them that nature could intervene.
Mom was adamant; Dad was her simp. Mom didn’t think you should dabble with anything magical; that it was blasphemous. And she was determined to protect us from it.
The coven’s numbers were dwindling as neither Aunt Mimi nor Aunt Lyrica had children. Aunt Mimi was a twin and her twin sister died giving birth to a daughter. That daughter gave birth to just one son who was raised not knowing our family. Their oldest brother, my grandfather, had died young and the remaining Young coven family members were sprinkled throughout Europe with work of their own to be concerned with.
It was a big responsibility looking after this region and a lot of work between Aunt Lyrica and Aunt Mimi, who was drawn to live on the coast for reasons of her own. The universe just wouldn’t allow it to stop there. Our family’s calling was too important to the other supernatural beings in the area, so that’s likely why when we were at that county fair that day just three months before Vivica’s eighteenth birthday, we saw our parents die.
Mom and Dad were on the rented pedalboat on a pond on the perfectly sunny and cloudless day. Me and my sisters sat on a blanket with ice cream cones, watching them pedal around, looking happy. And then we watched with utter horror when lightning struck that boat. It immediately burst into a fireball and sank, taking my parents with it. There weren’t even any remains to bury.
We went to live with Dad’s Aunt Mimi, who I hadn’t remembered, not having seen her since I was a toddler.
Aunt Mimi seemed very serious and no-nonsense, but she had a free-range parenting style, letting us live our lives the way we wanted, within reason, which was a stark contrast to the way Mom was raising us. With her came Aunt Lyrica, who I only remembered vaguely, having met her once when she visited, and Mom got home and hurried her out.
Mom told us she was eccentric. A bit of a kook. In the past six years, Aunt Lyrica visited every few months, and we all adored her quirky, colorful personality.
“They died just before Vivi was to turn eighteen,” I muttered.
“Yes,” Aunt Lyrica replied softly.
“Meaning we got brought to Aunt Mimi and Vivica was given a few months to mourn before she was allowed to learn about everything.”
“Yes,” Aunt Lyrica told me, patting my knee while continued to drive despite the tears brimming in my eyes.
“Magic took them from us,” I said, brokenly.
“Magic ensured you weren’t taken away from your true path,” Aunt Lyrica corrected. “Don’t be angry with magic. And don’t be angry with your parents. Anger serves nothing. Magic needs you to be a vessel for it. To help direct it. Your mother couldn’t understand the importance of your role. Your father couldn’t fully comprehend it either. He didn’t have the gifts; didn’t have the understanding. They thought they were keeping you girls safe from things she feared because of her lack of understanding, and I can’t blame him either, because things happen as they’re supposed to do. What they did only kept you segregated from it for eighteen years each. They weren’t able to wrap their minds around the fact that it was simply their role to bring you girls into the world. That was served. I knew you’d all need to know the truth at the age you’re at now. My gifts told me this. I believe they’re both at peace now. So does Jessica. Jessica’s gift assures her they are.”
