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No, she’d taken me in. I could never be ungrateful for that.
I was about to close the book when I suddenly paused, feeling that electric tingle once again. I looked more closely at the page the book had fallen open on.
A record of birthmarks?
Morgan mentioned that powerful witches had a birthmark that represented their coven, but I didn’t realize until now she’d meant it literally. Next to the sketch of a crescent moon was the Handmaiden name. There was a water droplet for the Thalassa witches, which made sense, given Val’s specialty. For the name Marquette, there were three lines, something I took to represent wind. There were more names than types of magic, and I realized some covens must overlap.
Tracing my finger down the list, I looked for any other lunar-looking marks when I stopped on what looked like a star or a sunburst. There was a little note next to it.
This mark is peculiar, as it always turns up rosy or red, unlike most others. Witches of the Aurora coven take their power from the sun, so it is only expected—
My brain slammed to a halt before I could finish the sentence.Red?!I’d seen that exact mark before—many times, in fact—during my childhood. My Aunt Esme had that exact mark on her upper arm. The first time she’d come over in a dress, I’d asked her about it as nosy children do. My mother was mortified, but my aunt explained that it was from an old tattoo she’d had removed. Something foolish from her teenage years, a scar she’d have to live with now. That had made sense to a child’s mind, and I’d never thought about it again. Until now.
I knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that my aunt was a witch. Not just any witch, either, but a powerful member of the Aurora coven. All her “tall tales” about the Lunar Lord and shifters and sirens and banshees, and every other paranormal story she told me…those were probably all true. All those months she’d disappeared, going radio silent until she randomly appeared back on our doorstep? Those hadn’t been fits of eccentricity. She’d probably been visiting her coven.
She…sheliedto me! She let me believe these were just stories! She never stopped my parents when they told me magic wasn’t real!The thoughts raced through my mind, and I exhaled sharply, unfamiliar with theangerbroiling from the pit of my gut. Hot flames of betrayal licked my chest.All these years, and she said nothing, even after my parents died! There was no one else to hide it from, and she just…she just…shedisappearedright when I needed her the most!
Despite Fenris’s best efforts—or the best efforts of that hunter—Esme was nowhere to be found. The sense of betrayal was even stronger now, and I scowled, even though I was alone in the room.She’s hiding from me! Shemustknow, or why suddenly make herself scarce?!
Once my magic was revealed…
I hissed, remembering Fenris’s rage when he discovered someone had been suppressing my magic from a young age.Was all that Esme’s doing?He’d insisted someone was doing it on purpose, but I just couldn’t fathom Aunt Esme doing that. Quirky, kind, free-spirited Aunt Esme—no, I thought she must’ve gotten the wrong ingredient by accident because she was a space cadet. Or that’s what I’dwantedto believe, and it’d been easy to forget about it until now, with everything else going on.
I need answers.
I tried to settle my swirling emotions. I’d been able to connect psychically with Sabine before, though shehadlaid the groundwork. Still, at least I knew what it was supposed to feel like, and I knew more about Esme than almost any other witch.
I closed my eyes and thought of my aunt, the way she’d always sweep through our front door when I’d least expected it. I thought of the times she’d come back with beads in her hair or a new tan. Sometimes, she looked like she’d literally blown in, like a tumbleweed.
As I focused on these memories, the shape of a doorway began to appear, but the moment I tried to home in on it, a dark cloud descended on it. It was like I’d just driven into a fog bank, but nothing made the mist disperse. I scowled and retreated when I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere.
Am I too angry to focus, or is that her blocking me?
I couldn’t say, but I wouldn’t know for sure until I calmed down some. I’d practice, and Val would have something to say about it, too. But for now, I needed space.
Leaving the Handmaiden grimoire tucked beneath a pillow in the master bedroom, I walked down the hall to Abi’s room, knocking once on the door before letting myself in. She was sprawled comfortably on the bed, cell phone in hand as a recording played, before she rolled onto her side and grinned at me.
“Most of these arehilarious,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at me. “Maybe I missed my calling as a comedian. You want to come here and listen?”
My mood certainly needed some lifting right now. “Definitely,” I said, joining Abi on the bed. I flopped over so we were side by side, and she moved on to the next message. “You learn any deep secrets about yourself yet? Any torrid romances you forgot?”
She laughed and gave me a gentle shove. “I wish,” she replied. “Nah, mostly monologues. A few pocket dials. No revelations.”
“That’s alright,” I replied, settling in. “Funny one-sided conversations sound good right about now.”
“Hey, I just did some, like, WILD math—and you know how much I don’t like math. So, I just ate an entire box of Frosted Flakes, which is, like, 1,000 grams—why don’t we use grams more in the States? Anyway, I’m like, I dunno, 58 kilograms? Something like that. But do you know what that means? I’m like…1% Frosted Flakes right now. Isn’t that crazy?!”
I choked on a laugh. “Abi, were you high?”
She shoved my shoulder. “Probably just hungry. You know how I get.”
I grinned as she played the next one.
“Abigail Murphy, this is an important message: the corner store sells glowsticks. One more time, just in case you didn’t hear me—the corner store sells GLOWSTICKS. Pick some up.”
“Glowsticks? Were you planning a rave?”
“No.” Abi snorted. “I had a really cool idea for your next birthday, but I was going to need alotof glowsticks, so I wanted to start gathering them early.” She frowned. “Man, I’m going to have to collect them all over again.”
