Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
“Hi,” I reply shortly, mind bouncing back and forth between logic and going off what I’m feeling. It’s not crazy for people to recognize me and know who I am. Xavier is trending on social media, which means people are more than aware of his wife. But this woman is a witch.
I can feel it.
“Who are you?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
“Marie,” she tells me as the wind blows her braids back.
“Named after my great-something grandmother.” She inches closer and I drop my mental shield a bit, trying to get a good sense of what she wants.
I’m not sensing anything bad—at all. Her accent makes me think she’s not from Charlotte but maybe from somewhere else nearby.
“Cool.” I take my eyes off of her for a half second, glancing around.
It’s hot today and lots of people are out and about, enjoying the sun while simultaneously complaining about the heat.
There’s an overall sense of apprehension from a lot of people in the city today, which makes sense after what just happened.
But it’s the daytime and people are choosing to believe the attacks are only going to happen after dark—which makes me really glad they all have.
Xavier can’t rescue me when the sun is shining.
Marie laughs. “Sorry, that wasn’t much to go on. I’m just shocked you look exactly how you appeared to me.”
I raise one eyebrow in question. “Appeared to you?”
“In a dream,” she goes on. “Like you, I’m a witch.
The gift of premonition has always been strong in my family but it can be hard to follow the visions given sometimes.
” A group of middle-aged moms walks past us, talking and laughing.
We step to the side and Marie motions to the bench she was sitting on. “Want to move out of the way?”
“Sure,” I say, careful not to give anything away or ask questions that could accidentally be leading. I need to hear what she came here to tell me. This could very well be a trap, but my gut is telling me to talk to this woman.
“Turns out you’re pretty well known,” she starts as we sit on the bench. “Which is what made me question my own power.” She laughs. “I’ve seen you on the news and on TikTok. You seem to follow in your family’s footsteps by not following the rules.”
“My family?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“You are from the Blackwood line, are you not?” She tips her head and closes her eyes for a second, like she’s getting a read on my energy. “Or possibly the Larsons? I was able to narrow down your lineage to the east coast and you look similar to Fiona Blackwood.”
My jaw tenses and I know my heartbeat is picking up speed. She knows my family?
“I do have ties to the East Coast,” I answer, knowing I have to give her something.
“You don’t belong to a coven,” she starts.
“Not the one here and not any coven, from what I was able to gather.” Her brows push together.
“I made quite a few calls and it doesn’t seem like the local witches even knew you were a witch, possibly because you are married to Xavier Malus. ” Her eyes go to my engagement ring.
Now I’m sensing her curiosity, but it’s out of a place of genuine wonder. She—and whoever else she’s talked to—really do want to know how a witch with no coven ended up here.
“I’ve never belonged to one,” I admit, knowing it’s not a secret. Obviously, covens have phone lines and they talk to each other. “I was actually raised as a member of the Order of the Mystic Realm.”
“I did not see that coming, and I’m psychic,” she says with a laugh. Despite the lack of negative energy, she’s still hard to get a read on. “How did that happen?”
“It’s a complicated story, and the one I was told was that demons killed my parents and the hunter who took me in as a baby didn’t know I was a witch.”
She tips her head to the side, studying me. “And yet they kept you. The Order is not kind to witches,” she says and it doesn’t take my spidey-sense to see that she's trying to feel out if I still have any sense of loyalty to the Order.
“They’re not. And they were not very kind to me, even though having powers made me a superior hunter.”
She leans in. “You’re definitely a Blackwood.” Her full lips pull into a smile and sunlight dances in her dark brown eyes. “They defied their Grand Coven a time or two by going after demons.”
“They were hunters? And that’s…that’s bad?”
“Not in the sense you were. You don’t know much about your heritage, do you?”
“No,” I say honestly.
“Makes sense if the Order took you as a baby. You never got the chance to learn or even get to know who you are.” She leans back, looking at me curiously, yet I don’t feel like an animal in the zoo.
She is curious but who can blame her? “I would be lost if I didn’t know where my roots came from.
Knowing our history is important, and your line goes back to the early days here in America.
The Blackwoods were some of the first witches and warlocks to settle here. ”
“I had no idea.”
“I’m guessing there’s a lot you don’t know.”
“I’m guessing you’re right.”
She smiles again. “And I’m guessing you’re sitting there trying to figure out if you should trust me or not.”
“To be fair, I wonder about everyone I meet.” I push my hair back, peeling it from my sweaty neck. “I don’t quite get why you’re here. You said you saw me in a dream.”
“Ah, right. I am getting quite ahead of myself. I saw you in my dream and the universe told me to come here, that you needed guidance. Turns out I was right.”
Inside, I’m torn. This woman is a witch, one who knows her heritage and is familiar with my family as well. I can sense the power coming off of her.
“Why would the universe want you to guide me?”
“That part hasn’t been revealed yet as a test to my faith.”
“Sounds like a bullshit reply instead of saying you have no fucking idea what you’re doing,” I say bluntly and Marie laughs out loud.
“A lot of the universe’s signs can be deduced to bullshit if you have that mindset.” She sighs and the humor leaves her face. “Something big is coming. I don’t know what. I don’t know when.”
I push down the lump in my throat. Is this something big the demon that was just brought forth?
“And witches, we stick together…we are all sisters in some sense. Besides, you cannot argue you are not in need of guidance.”
“I mean…I think I’m okay.”
She gives me a dubious look. “You’re okay in a lot of ways, but your aura is pure chaos. You don’t always have to feel unsettled, Florence.”
“I don’t,” I say, lying through my teeth. I’ve felt unsettled and unwelcome my whole life. I dreamed of finding other witches who would rescue me when I was a kid, and then when I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I tried to force myself into an Order-shaped hole I never fit in.
I was too different, too dangerous, too much.
Then I met Xavier and things changed. It wasn’t the plan but he fell in love with me and I with him and he accepts me for exactly who I am.
“Witches are meant to belong to a coven,” Marie goes on. “Your soul craves to be near the similar souls of your sisters.”
“I’ve never met another witch,” I confess.
“We tend to avoid the Order of the Mystic Realm. My coven in particular has a particularly jaded history with the southern chapter of the Order.”
“Where are you from? I can’t quite place your accent.”
“New Orleans,” she says and I nod. We’ve never once been assigned to anything remotely nearby, much to my brother’s dismay. “There are a lot of us there.”
And now it makes sense why the Order wouldn’t send us.
“You can come to our coven anytime. There are several of us who would be happy to welcome you in and teach you.”
My lips part and I want to immediately accept because isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? But when things sound too good to be true, they usually are.
“Think about it,” she goes on. “There is no pressure on my end.”
“Thanks. I have like a million questions.” I lean back, taking solace in the breeze for a short moment. I use my left hand to push my hair back into place. I’m really regretting not putting my hair up on a day like today.
Marie’s eyes go from the huge rock on my finger to the bandage, but she doesn’t ask about it. Instead, she moves her long braids over one shoulder and watches two birds land on the ground nearby, eating the crumbs of someone’s discarded sandwich next to a metal garbage can.
“It was a curious choice to see Xavier Malus marry a human,” she starts. “It’s even more curious now that I know you are a witch.”
“I am pretty awesome,” I say seriously enough for her to get my sarcasm.
She twists, angling herself toward me. “You know why vampires and witches don’t get along, right?”
My head bobs up and down as I nod, and I reach back, twisting my hair into a bun.
I have nothing to secure it with, but it feels good just to get my hair off my back.
I will curse the winter and miss this heat, but this North Carolina sun can be brutal in the summer.
“There was a war like a thousand years ago and some witch was given power that almost wiped them out,” I reply, telling her what limited info I know from the Order.
“Yes, it’s rumored a Lancaster witch was given raw energy in its purest form from an archangel. But the reason witches and vampires went to war in the first place…you don’t know?”
“I always assumed it was because they were both powerful but in different ways.”
“Yes, to some extent. Vampires were trying to turn witches into them, hoping they would keep their powers. They wanted the gift of magic and the ability to walk in the light. They hated us for being able to do things they cannot. And at their core, they know we created them.”
“Witches created vampires?”
“The exact origin has been debated for centuries, but what fuels a vampire? Their hearts don’t beat yet they still have blood flowing through their veins. They bleed when they’re cut, do they not?”
“They do.” I cling to her every word.
“It’s magic—black magic—that gives them their afterlife.”
“Wait,” I say as it comes to me. “You’re saying we can take it away.”
“There have been many who have tried but some things simply just are and cannot be undone. Though that fear remains and vampires will always hate us for it.”
I look at the ground, trying to take it all in. “This is a lot to process.”
“I know.” She puts her hand on mine. “Which is why the universe brought me here. You don’t belong to the darkness, Florence. You can step into the light and still have powers.”
Tipping my head up, I look back into her eyes. “I’m doing that now,”
“Not fully.” She gives my hand an empathic squeeze. “As long as you chain yourself to a vampire, you will always be limited—and in danger.”