Chapter one
Present day
What would life look like without this sense of urgency that plagued her every waking moment?
It was a thought Amaya had often. Every bus ride to and from work, she daydreamed about what her life could be if her circumstances were different.
Adjusting her bag tighter against her, she leaned her head on the bus window and gazed out at the darkening night.
She’d cut down the number of days she worked, so that meant longer hours— and going home late in the evening.
Which was dangerous on most days. This close to a full moon…that danger was almost doubled.
It wasn’t as though she had a choice. She was the primary caregiver for her mother, so she walked a delicate balance of earning enough money to make sure they had a roof over their head, but not working too long since she couldn’t afford to hire anyone to sit with her mother while she was there.
Amaya worked at the Archive, which was a library of sorts.
It housed all the history of the supernaturals and, most importantly, it contained the original and largest piece of the meteor responsible for the power inherited by all of the occupants of the Southern USA.
The Akachi, as they called it, was the source of the chaos magic that ran through the blood of every supernatural.
Chaos magic was volatile and hard to control.
Maintaining the balance of the Akachi and keeping that chaos magic contained to safe levels was Amaya’s job.
She worked in the sacred garden at the Archive.
It had been her mother’s job before her and was responsible for Anita’s current state.
Amaya and her mother were chaos witches and thus able to wield the raw, unfiltered magic that emitted from the Akachi.
Their magic kept them from being as susceptible to the crude power as other supernaturals.
But working with chaos magic came with pitfalls.
Eventually, the magic turned on its wielder, eating at their mind.
It was the fate of any chaos witch, no matter their power level.
All of the women in their family were chaos witches, and all met the same fate.
But because Amaya and her mother worked with the Akachi in the sacred garden, they met their fates sooner.
Her mother, though barely over fifty, was going mad. And there was nothing Amaya could do to stop it. It meant Anita required constant supervision, which was the source of all the hoops Amaya jumped through with her work schedule. Her mother had her lucid days, but they were few and far between.
The bus pulled to a stop and Amaya sighed, steadying herself for the walk to the neighborhood where she and her mother were renting a house.
They could’ve stayed at their family’s compound, but since her mother had moved out at eighteen, Anita had been adamant that she would never go back.
The way the women were treated once their magic turned on them…
Needless to say, going back home was never an option for her mother, and Amaya honored that request.
Their current neighborhood wasn’t on the best side of town, but if she ignored the hustlers, criminals and drug addicts that inhabited some of the houses around them, Amaya could pretend she was doing well for herself.
Shuffling off the bus with her head down, she dodged catcalls and sinister looks as she hustled toward her house.
She lived in a part of Black Hollow inhabited by supernaturals making the best of the hand life had dealt them, not quite the misfits of society but certainly those who were alone in this world.
There was a rough element as it was in any part of town.
Here, lone shifters occupied most of the run-down homes that lined the street.
It made moving around any time close to the full moon harrowing.
“You need help, little Chawi? It’ll only cost you a teensy bite,” a shifter sitting on the front steps of his battered home taunted.
The moon was barely up and already, the air was thick with magic and menace.
Moving faster, Amaya didn’t breathe easier until she reached the entrance of her neighborhood.
It wasn’t a compound, but after years of Chawis without covens settling there, the whole neighborhood had been warded against most dangers posed to the witches.
Their landlord had even put up some extra warding on their house.
Amaya growled in aggravation when she got home and noticed that her uncle’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Hastily unlocking all four locks on the front door, she rushed inside.
“Mom,” she called.
Their house was small, the entrance leading directly into the living room.
From the front door, Amaya could see into their small kitchen and down a short hallway to the two bedrooms that flanked each other.
There was a single bathroom down that hall as well.
Her heart raced as she spotted her mother outside in the postage-stamp sized backyard. Anita stood at the back fence.
What was she doing?
Dropping her bag onto the sofa, she walked toward her mother.
There were no scents other than the ones of the plug-ins she used to keep their neat space smelling good, which meant that her uncle hadn’t even cooked before he left.
He was a terrible caretaker, but he was all she had at the moment.
She took a deep breath to wipe all the tension from her face and opened the door.
Anita could read her well, and sometimes, she would react to Amaya’s stress.
Those were long evenings.
“Mom,” she called again gently.
Anita turned and smiled. “Sweetheart.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just talking.” Anita wiped her hands on her clothes.
Amaya was her mother’s twin, from their high cheekbones and full lips to their almond shaped eyes and thick lashes.
The only difference was that Amaya was full-figured where Anita was tall and trim.
Her willowy figure was currently swallowed in a comfortable off-the-shoulder cotton dress that her mother wore to lounge in.
She was beautiful and, despite her dementia, kept her appearance up.
Mostly because Amaya was sure Anita often forgot that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Her mother still got up and dressed for work some days.
The fact that Anita was dressed so casually meant that at least her Uncle Paul hadn’t dragged her out of the house as he was wont to do.
Amaya tried not to be so hard on her uncle because if nothing else, he made sure his sister lived as normally as possible.
“How long ago did Uncle Paul leave?” It was a question that would test how lucid her mother was this evening.
“Not too long,” Anita said absently, walking up and cupping Amaya’s cheek Without prompting, her mother’s magic soothed the stress tightening her daughter’s shoulders. “You look tired. Have we had dinner?”
Amaya swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. “I was thinking of making soup. Fall is in the air.”
Fall was finally pulling the temperature down, sure, but mostly Amaya didn’t think they had groceries to make anything else.
Anita gave her a bright smile. “Soup it is, then.”
Amaya released the breath she was holding and returned her mother’s smile. “We can put your vegetable garden to use.”
“Great idea. My cabbages look amazing.”
Guiding her mother inside, Amaya felt lighter. No matter the hardship she went through, seeing her mother happy was worth it. Anita sat at the two-seat dining table in their kitchen and watched her daughter with a wistful smile.
“How was work?”
“Same ol’,” Amaya answered, opening the fridge.
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. There was food in there!
See, this was why she could never stay mad at her uncle.
Yes, he was irresponsible, but when he came through, he came through in a major way.
His contribution of groceries would let her check stretch just a few more days.
A blessing, really. It wasn’t as though the Archive paid her pennies, but with the fact that she couldn’t work that many hours, her pay was lean.
Smiling, some of the stress that had been riding her shoulders was shed.
It was only a small reprieve, but she would take what she could get.