Chapter Thirty-Eight #2
It’s immediate, the way the magic comes rushing back. Like it’s second nature. Or first nature, as if this was always my base instinct. After everything she’s already told me, I can’t tamp down the fury that explodes when I realize she’s completely buried the lead.
It makes sense in a way. You’d think that if my grandmother was secretly doing magic, there would have been signs, but instead her stories felt like fiction that bled into reality. Why would Maureen tell me everything but this? And why me?
Why me, why me, why me?
I never, ever asked for this. I felt alone before, but I had no idea how true that was.
“How is that possible?” I cry. “If it’s been a century since one of our—our coven—has wielded magic, then how do you explain this?” I roar, flinging my arms away from my body, pulling on the molecules dampening the air inside the house with humidity.
I thrust the gathered water out in a torpedo stream that slams into her collection of cats. The hutch splinters down the middle, water ricocheting off the wood in a fine mist that coats everything in sight, the ceramic pieces shattering against the ground.
Somewhere in the living room, the dog whimpers.
“If no one has had magic in one hundred years, then what the fuck is wrong with me?!” I’m still screaming, tears of desperation streaming down my face and into my mouth.
Around us, clutter and loose papers swirl in a cyclone that scrapes the chairs across the floor, the squeaking buried beneath the howling wind.
“Harper!” Maureen cries, her hands raised.
I’m shaking like I’ve got a fever. My mind is consumed with fear, with rage, with hopelessness.
“Please,” she whispers, holding out her hands. “Please, let me explain as much as I can.”
The pure terror in her voice is enough to stall the flow of my magic.
I’m a monster.
The objects in the air come crashing to the ground around us, and Maureen throws her arms over her head to block them.
She steps back, gesturing to the chair. “Have a seat. Take a sip of water. You’ll kill yourself if you don’t replenish your well.”
My teeth are chattering in the absence of my power as I sit back down, my temperature and energy plummeting in its absence.
Maureen gives me a moment to collect myself, puttering around the kitchen, spot cleaning the massive mess I’ve made.
When she returns to her seat, she places a tray of thin chocolate cookies between us.
I can’t meet her eyes.
The shame has fully set in.
“I—” I stare at my nails, but I remember what Gigi always told me: An apology isn’t worth shit if you can’t look the person in the eyes and promise you won’t do it again.
So I take a deep breath and lift my gaze to hers. “I’m so sorry.” I glance at the pile of broken ceramics in the corner. “I didn’t—” I can’t say I didn’t mean to, because I did. Wrong as it may be, my rage took over, and in that moment I’d wanted someone else to hurt as much as I did.
“I’m so sorry. I will pay you back. I’m supposed to inherit a trust from the estate. Give me a total for the damage, and I’ll make sure you get the money.”
It occurs to me that maybe some of those things are irreplaceable, but she says, “Oh, honey, I can’t imagine what you’re going through, and with no one to teach you properly how to control it,” she tsks.
“There wasn’t anything too valuable in there, mostly just thrift-store kitties I liked looking at. I’ll find more, I promise you that.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I say, and I don’t mean the magic.
I’m talking about the anger. Has it been building all my life?
I don’t understand where this depth of rage came from.
I don’t know why I can’t seem to control it no matter how hard I try.
“But I swear, I’m never going to lose control like that around you again. I don’t care what it takes.”
Maureen frowns. “She knew you would be powerful. You always were, even before your alignment. Such a willful child. She was a little jealous of you in that way, I think.” Her eyes glisten.
“From the moment you were born, she felt that you would change the world, and yet she would never know what it was like to be connected to our past in this way.”
It doesn’t sit right, thinking Gigi could ever envy me. Besides, having these powers feels less like I’m connected to our past and more like I’m being buried alive.
“So… what… what happened to the magic?”
“The stories about what happened to our magic have splintered and shifted with time, but as I know it, many years ago the tensions between the hunters and the witches in this area began to grow. The unrest was coming to a head, especially when it came to the Biltmore family and their expansion on the mountain. They wanted to buy up our coven’s land.
But our ancestors didn’t want to leave the only home they’d ever known, nor the well of power that slumbered beneath it.
“When they refused to comply, someone set their covenstead ablaze. And when the witches tried to save the sacred space, they were killed. Hanged outside the burnt remains of the school.
“Since then the magic has been gone. Like a punishment, or a curse. As though these women being hanged counteracted the original sacrifice. That’s the thing about the stars, they never give anything for free, and they never give something that can’t be taken away.”
Why would the universe give us power and then punish us by taking it back? Haven’t we already suffered enough?
This doesn’t do anything to help the rage that still simmers steadily in my core.
“Then what happened? Is the coven still here?” I ask.
She shakes her head sadly. “Over time what was left of the coven moved on, the history and pain too much to take. Some joined other covens but were often shunned due to their lack of magic. Some abandoned this history altogether. But many died, one way or another. And if they didn’t die, their children died.
Or their grandchildren. Until nearly every line was gone.
“Thankfully you come from a succession of stubborn women who never saw the point in leaving their home. They’d set up roots here. The hunters’ actions might have taken their magic, but they weren’t going to let them take their home, too.
“My mama and gran were among those that left Earnest in the aftermath. They didn’t talk too much about what happened.
They had been witness to something traumatic, and in the end I never learned what it means to be a real Zodiac Witch, only what it was like long before, when it all began.
That’s why I moved back here at first, you know?
To try to figure out where our magic went.
To try to get it back. To learn more about who we are today. ”
I nod, her words resonating deeply with what I’ve been feeling all this time. This intrinsic need to understand exactly who I am and where I come from.
“Now, when I came back, your grandma was the only one to entertain my questions about it all. She was still in contact with our old sister coven down in Asheville, though they never did take too kindly to strangers, in my experience…” She’s unable to hide the hint of bitterness in her tone.
“But if you want, I’ll look into it. Reach out to some contacts and see if we can connect with those who remain.
See if any of their members are willing to meet with you.
Help you master your power. Especially as you are coming up on your catalyst. Because whatever power you think you have now, it is nothing in comparison to what you will wield once you make your change. ”
I sit up straighter. “My catalyst?” She’s mentioned it a couple of times today but has yet to explain it.
“Every Zodiac Witch goes through something called a catalyst. It’s the maturation of your power, often brought on by a need for great strength.
When this happens, the full scope of a witch’s magic is revealed.
Seeing as how you’ve already shown such impressive ability and…
well, intense emotions that seem to affect it, I don’t think it will be much longer now. ”
How much more power could I really have? I can’t even control myself now; I don’t think I can handle any more. “How will I know when the catalyst is happening?”
“From what I’ve heard, there’s no mistaking it. But if you don’t get control of your abilities before then, you run the risk of supernova.”
This time I don’t even bother to ask. I just wait.
“If your magic burns too hot, too fast without control, it can combust. Overheat. And without your catalyst, this measure of strength is deadly for the wielder. A seasoned witch can help you prevent that.”
I open my mouth. Close it. After all this, my brain feels like mashed potatoes.
“Still,” I start hesitantly. “Of everyone left, why me?”
She shrugs sadly. “I don’t know, dear. But it must be a blessing. Because if the Cardinals are coming, then so is the war, and when that happens, your power may be the only thing that saves you.”