21. Cori
Cori
S he was going to vomit. Her brain was screaming as her Eye nudged her impatiently in the ribs. Revealing herself to him felt so dangerous, yet the idea of him knowing gave her the strangest sense of strength. She reluctantly allowed her Eye into her mind. He’s supposed to know.
“I’m the teller of the Gray Prophecy,” she blurted out. She stilled for a moment, gauging his response, but his expression remained blank. “My name is Cori, but it’s a nickname,” she continued slowly, her hands trembling as her mouth fought against the words that had been forbidden for so long.
“Actually, my full name is Cordelia Mangianelli. My last name isn’t Evans.” She lowered her head and raised her eyebrows expectantly.
“Cori, um, Cordelia…”
“Please, don’t call me Cordelia. I’ve always preferred Cori.” She sighed, thinking of Enzo. “Or Cor. My brother…he always called me Cor.”
“OK. Listen. I’m an Elemental witch. We don’t belong to a coven. Never have. My family and I are the only witches in this town. I think we’re the only witches in the whole county. I’ve never heard of this prophecy.” His eyebrows came together. “We never get news of things like this. Maybe my parents have heard of it. But if they did, they never shared it with me.”
She was surprised that he had never heard of the infamous prophecy, but she was most grateful that he had never heard of her .
Panic settled into her chest. She could not believe she just told him the truth, but the accusation he had thrown at her was too much for her to bear. A Gray witch . To think that she, of all people, would use dark magic. She kicked herself. It was too late for a memory charm.
“I think moving here was a mistake,” she said.
She started to gather her belongings, piling them into her duffel bags.
“What are you doing?” he asked in disbelief.
“I need to leave,” she said simply. “I haven’t known you that long, but I hope I can trust you. I’ll tell Anne that there was a family emergency back home. If anyone asks about me, please just tell them you never saw me.” Guilt stung her throat at the thought of him being interrogated—or worse.
Adrian gaped at her. “Why would you leave? Are you in trouble?” He grabbed her forearm, and a shock wave of heavy heat surged into her chest. “Maybe I can help you. Please. I just want to understand.”
She stilled. “You really never heard of the Gray Prophecy?”
He shook his head desperately. “I just want to understand.”
She let out a sigh. “I can show you.” She sat down heavily and patted the bed next to her, urging him to sit. He slowly lowered himself to a seat next to her, his eyebrows knitted together. “Give me your hand?”
His large calloused hands were difficult to encircle with her own. “This might feel a little strange. I don’t know any other way to explain this to you,” she said apologetically.
“OK.” His answer was a whisper.
She closed her eyes and freed her Eye, reaching out for him. A shiver went through her as her magic collided with his. He let out a breath as they were pulled forward, connected by what seemed like a thousand invisible strands of electric energy. She turned back the pages of her past, her Eye eager to show the truth of the memories locked within.
Cori relished for a moment in his magic. She had connected her Eye to other witches like this before, but it had been a long time since she was this vulnerable—this intimate—with someone. Her skin flushed as if she was swimming in a bubbling hot spring, the hairs on her skin prickling.
A velvet smoke hung in the air. As she settled into the feeling, she was overwhelmed by the scent of pine trees and salt, and her skin felt damp. As if she was watching the waves crash off the rocks of the coast, scattering a dense, salty mist.
A young Cordelia sat in her bed, peering out the window. The scent of incense was thick in the air. Her mother smoothed her hair into a neat braid.
“Mama, when are you going to tell me what I said last night?”
“You’ve been crying and sleeping all day.” The woman’s voice was full of remorse. “When you give a prophecy, it can drain you for a little while. I wanted to wait until you were strong enough to hear it.”
“I’m strong enough now,” she said, wiping away a tear. “I need to know.”
The woman sighed, smoothing the sheets. She handed her a piece of thick paper, adorned with a curvy script.
The Gray Covenant has been betrayed, weakening the Giver, as was foretold by those whose oath was made. When the great conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter occurs on the winter solstice, the Mother will collect the debt of three hundred years of stolen darkness. All those who have betrayed the Covenant will receive no more, and all those who have borrowed from the betrayal will weaken through the Other.
She turned the paper over and over in her hand. The words felt foreign to her, as though spoken by a ghost .
“I don’t remember saying any of that,” she said with dismay, turning the words over in her mind.
Her mother’s brows came down into a concerned furrow. “Cordelia, there are many witches in the world who practice dark magic,” she started to say.
“Not us.” She sat up straight, intensity illuminating the golden hues of her eyes.
Her mother dipped her chin and closed her eyes tight as she rubbed her forehead. “Well—many witches do. Despite the Covenant. What you predicted will mean that those who do”—her voice cracked—“will lose their magic on a future solstice.”
“So, they’ll have no more magic?” she asked with wide eyes, clutching her blanket close to her.
“No, baby. Their magic will fade, as will the magic that we all share through the Other.”
“So, all the bad witches will be done with magic.” Her mother winced at her words. “That’s a good thing, right?”
Her mother stood up and walked toward the window. “Cordelia, witches gain their power from three sources. The Mother, the Giver, and the Other.”
“I remember from coven.” Cordelia tilted her head, distracted by the light of the moon tumbling into the room.
“We all gain power from each other. When those who have violated the Covenant lose their power, based on your prediction, we will all lose some of our magic. We will all weaken.” Her mother bit her lip, studying her daughter's face.
“All of us?”
“All of us,” her mother replied with sad eyes.
“Mama,” careful words followed a long silence. “Papa was Celestial. Right? Did he ever make a prophecy?”
Her mother’s eyes widened at the question. “Never,” she rasped.
As the room shifted out of focus. An older Cordelia sat in the same spot. Her brother, Enzo, stood near the doorway .
“Cor, I don’t know if I’m the one who should tell you this.” He swallowed hard. “It’s fabled that if you kill the witch who makes a prophecy, then it will not come to be,” he said slowly. He remained silent for a moment as the power of his words washed over the room. “This is why you’re in danger, and why you will someday need to disappear.”
Cordelia, now the age of a teenager, sat with her mother on the front stoop of a grand town house making flower chains.
She pursed her lips. “When should I hear about the college acceptances?”
Her mother squinted her eyes in a hopeful smile. She gripped her daughter’s hand, her eyes dancing with light. “Soon, Starlight. I know you will get in somewhere, even though you’re only a sophomore. A perfect SAT score, flawless AP tests, a publication in a renowned scientific journal…”
Cordelia’s head dipped down as she twirled the bracelet on her arm.
“I will miss you every minute you’re away, honey.” Her mother threaded the flower crowns through her fingers, finally choosing one to gingerly place on her daughter's head. “When the day of the prophecy is behind us, we’ll reunite. Until then, you need to stay hidden.”
She listened to the gulls on the bay, dipping low on the hill. “What if they come for you?” Cordelia’s question hung in the air.
Her mother’s eyes closed gently, as though in silent prayer. She swallowed hard, pivoting her head back and forth in protest. “I’ll have nothing to tell them.”
“Enzo, I need your help,” Cordelia called down the hallway. Her belongings were packed into a large trunk, the remaining items strewn about on the floral bedsheets .
Her brother’s frame appeared in the doorway, now dressed in the business casual clothing of a young professional.
“I don’t have a spell to help you pack, Cor.” His teasing tone was laced with remorse. “For a smart person, you sure are dumb when it comes to fitting things into a trunk.”
She attempted to throw a book at him, but he dodged it narrowly. “I know you don’t have a packing spell, but you do have one to alter an ID card.” She raised her eyebrows at him with a devilish grin as she waved her driver’s license at him.
He sighed. “Fine. Please, just don’t tell Ma.” He winked as he sat next to her, holding out his hand for the card expectantly. “Just think about your new name, as I turn the card over in my hand.”
He held the driver's license in his hand as he wordlessly willed the enchantment through his silent incantation. “Don’t you dare tell anyone your new name, not even me.” He handed her the magically altered card and stood to leave. “Cor, promise me something, OK? Trust nobody until after the solstice.”
Cori looked down at her new name, perfectly altered beyond human detection on her license. “Enz,” she said sadly. “See you in 3,285 days.”
He took a deep breath, tears stinging his eyes as he crossed the threshold, pulling his sister into a hug.