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Sadly, I’ve seen it done once when I was thirteen. Daisy was the same age as I was when it happened. She couldn’t handle a broom because her magick was off. I heard the elders talking about how it was most likely due to her dead human father diluting her genes. But I had never seen someone’s magick misfire quite like that before. It was a disaster.
The spell to dilute and strip a witch of her magick was one of the most archaic and painful processes I have ever snuck in to witness the elders doing. And I saw a lot I wasn’t supposed to see. Some of it, I wish I could unsee.
Fertility ceremonies were not a pretty sight. Granted, I did learn quite a bit about different sexual positions, but the last thing a teen ever wants to witness is her parents slipping around in a full-on orgy.
I shudder from the memories and pull my pen from my purse. In an instant, it expands into its full glory. My broom is one of my favorite creations.
Every witch is tasked with creating their own broom. In fact, the process is a rite of passage for a fledgling witch. At only sixteen–a full two years before any of the other fledglings my age–I managed to complete one that was not only functional but a truly stunning work of art.
The hornbeam wood of the handle is stained to a dark, nearly black shade of brown, and is mostly straight except for the dramatic curl on the tip. There are filigree and runes carved through the entire length of it. Some of the runes are functional. Like the one that disguises it and the rider from any non-para, or the one that minimizes it into a pen. Others are just ones I made up, that serve no function. Yet...
The coil that serves to connect the head to the handle, is copper with a bit of rose gold in a damascus pattern. The metal was a gift from my father, who also helped me to shape it correctly. Granted he also helps most fledglings with their coil, but he usually makes them do most of the work. With mine, it was more of a bonding experience.
Then there are the bristles. I chose palmyra for mine, knowing that it could withstand use, not just with flying but also with spell work. It has varying shades of brown and pops of bright red. Leading it to compliment the rest of the gorgeous pieces in my broom, but also hardy enough to take on both dry and wet materials. Which I learned very early on is something that you need to keep in mind.
Now a lot of witches chose to have their flying broom, their ceremony broom, and then their spell work besom. But that is not nearly as efficient as I prefer.
So I have Bessy.
Yes, I named my broom.
Don’t look at me like that.
Some guys name their cars, trucks, and motorcycles and no one looks at them funny.
Lifting my leg, I straddle Bessy’s handle and lift off into the quickly fading daylight. Thankfully, perfect eyesight, even in total darkness, is one gift that all paras have. Now shifters have pretty much every physical advantage you can think of, and their quick healing makes them nearly indestructible. Depending on the species of shifter, they have other strengths and abilities too.
My best friend, Lexi, is a member of the oldest pack in the area. Dire wolves are some of the strongest and fiercest shifters, with an unmatchable level of agility and endurance. They are a fearsome force to be reckoned with. They also tend to keep all mates within their species. Not only because of trying to hold tightly to keeping the true dire wolf lines going, but also because they tend to have issues with actually procreating outside of their species.
Other shifters don’t have that problem at all. That’s where you get things like ligers, jackalopes, and owlbears.
So, Alexis Layne is doomed to an arranged mating. She puts on a face about it all, but her pack knows she isn’t happy. Sadly, two female mates lack the genetic predisposition to carry on their line. This means that she has exactly one year left to enjoy her sexual freedom before she enters into her mate bond. I just hope the guy is patient because Lexi can be a fucking handful when she wants to be.
The lights of the All Hallows Eve Carnival come into view in the quickly dimming daylight. At this point, the carnival will have only been open for about two hours. Since most paras are creatures of the night, the para owners don’t open until closer to nightfall. They also only charge humans the entry fee, using the chance for ticket sales as a disguise to slap a twelve-hour magickal stamp on them that works as a sort of warning to the staff and attendees.
While I personally don’t eat humans, the same can’t be said for all para species. Some witches do eat humans from time to time. More specifically for ceremonies and such. Shifters and other paras have them as more predominantly present in their diets.
Although there are only two big rules for the para communities concerning humans as food.
1. No eating where you play. Meaning they have to lure their meal to another location away from the carnival and such.
2. No kids or parents of young kids. All meals have to be over the age of twenty-one with no progeny under that age as well.
Do all para actually follow these rules? Meh...
If a human is going to wander off with a dangerous stranger, then I guess the saying is true: Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
Do I sound heartless if I also apply that same set of rules to their young? Probably. Not that I care much. Humans overpopulate the planet by a one-thousand-to-one ratio. They can do with a little culling.
In light of the presence of all the humans, we have a special landing area in the clearing located in the woods right outside the gate of the carnival. It is spelled so that non-paras see it as a creepy swamp area and avoid it at all costs. Honestly, it is usually only populated by witches, and not for more than a quick landing before heading off in the direction of our choosing, but it’s also used by shifters to... well... shift, and also to dress so that they aren’t wandering around naked. Some vendors have even taken the opportunity to place pop-up shops for foods and clothing more in demand by paras just on the far edge of the clearing. It’s smart and convenient.
I land with a small thud on the soft, mossy ground and rub my thumb over the rune on my broom, initiating it to revert to pen mode. I no sooner plop it into my purse, when Lexi barrels into me. After a brief rib-crushing hug, she snatches my arm and drags me along the path that leads into the All Hallows Eve Carnival.
While I am used to Lexi’s aggressive show of love and abrasive personality, I can’t stop the words from flying out of my mouth. “Lexi, I’m sorry. I never meant to—”
She stops abruptly with a deep sigh and shakes her head. “You don’t have to apologize. I was jealous.” She begins walking again, dragging me along behind her. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. Not right now. There is something you have to see.”
My thoughts quickly swim through her being jealous—I imagine over Teddy consuming my time and thoughts as of late—and careened straight into the clear agitation coming off her in palpable waves. She seems... angry.
