The Witch's Birthright

Chapter 1

Ifelt like death, but the warmth of a bed was proof that I was, in fact, still among the living.

I pulled a pillow closer, hugged it to my chest, and buried my aching head in the softness.

The unfamiliar velvet-covered down and soft cotton sheets felt good sliding against my skin as I tested the movement of my feet.

Hospital…must be in a hospital. Fuzzy voices floated around the room but I couldn’t make out exactly what was being said. Comforted by the ease at which my toes wiggled, I tried to drift back into sleep.

Then memories came flooding back, slamming into me. Strange men in flowing black capes and the stale smell of old, wet carpet played in my mind, along with flashes of a big, ragged knife held to my throat. I blinked hard.

No hospital bed felt this good. I held my breath, trying to concentrate on the voices.

Pain burned behind my eyes, dulling my focus.

Slow, steady breaths. Get your bearings, woman.

As my heart rate slowed, so did my breathing.

My concentration steadied and the muffled conversation started to make sense.

“She’ll be fine, just a knock on her head. A Slaugh wound is always more painful than it should be.” An older woman’s voice, with a calming, almost musical tone.

“How long has she been out, Manus? I don’t want her to get too weak. This is all going to be traumatic enough.” Another woman’s voice, stern like my old English teacher. I shivered at the dominance in that voice.

“It’s been almost forty-eight hours. She should come around soon,” a soothing man’s voice replied.

Trying to remain still, I peeked under my lashes to find myself on my side, facing a stone wall. Prison? Dungeon? The gray stones looked very old, hand cut, not hospital walls or even cinder blocks. Where the hell am I?

“I’ll wake her this evening if she’s not up on her own,” said the male. I listened for other sounds, anything that would help me identify my location, but there was nothing but the voices from the other side of the room.

The tough-sounding woman spoke again. “Don’t leave her side. The Weres are meeting in Austria, and I’ve agreed to be there. She should be safe here, but I want no chances taken until she has come fully into her powers.”

“I have not left her side in eighteen years, my lady, I don’t intend to now.” The man sounded offended. What the hell? Eighteen years! My head pounded. I slowly ran my hand through my hair and found a small bandage taped to my temple.

I must be on some good drugs. That’s it. I’m in some kind of coma or something. I moved a little bit at a time and managed to get into a sitting position. My head throbbed harder.

Looking around the room, I praised the narcotics after getting a look at the scenery. “Really good drugs,” I said aloud, looking around at more stone walls.

Sitting up hadn’t ushered reality back as I’d hoped it would. I closed my eyes and pressed the heels of my palms over them. Maybe moving even slower would have been better.

I took my time opening them for a second look around.

Two women and a man were gathered by a huge wooden door.

The room was huge, with only two small windows, covered in the same velvet as the comfy bed.

The bed was so big it wouldn’t have fit in my bedroom at home.

Luxurious, emerald-green velvet set off the deep amber hues of the intricately carved posts and headboard.

The smell of fresh rain wafted through the room on a breeze that rustled the heavy velvet drapes.

Multiple thick white candles sat on hip-high, twisted black iron stands in two corners, bathing the room in a glowing light.

There was a small table at the far end of the room made from the same carved wood as the bed.

Two more candles burned there, the flames dancing and reflecting off several crystal wineglasses.

“I assure you, Ke—Mary, you are not under the influence of narcotics,” the taller of the two women said.

She was the one with the authoritative voice, I realized.

Her face was long and beautiful, with delicate lines and a hint of wrinkles around her eyes.

I couldn’t have pinpointed her age if I had to.

She was dressed in a fabulous silver-gray dress that accentuated her shape.

Man, I hoped to age that well. Her eyes were light amber and her hair was a glistening golden brown that made me conscious of my own mousy locks.

“You are completely safe,” she said with an air of assurance.

Her face contorted into a smile that I suspected was rarely seen.

“Mary,” the man said. I caught his gaze.

He was there, with the guys who had jumped me.

Flashes of the attack came to me again. Two figures on my back porch, both with big knives.

One grabbed me from behind. The other fought someone else, someone with deep green eyes like the man moving closer to the bed.

“How’s your head?” As he moved closer, I scooted back farther against the huge oak headboard. “It’s okay. We’re here to help you.”

“Help me what? Where am I? Who are you?” I spilled the words out so quickly it made me a little dizzy.

The man stepped closer. He moved with a grace that seemed somehow familiar.

I’d seen his eyes before, and not just from the attack.

I couldn’t look away. Their familiarity was making my skin tingle.

“Take it easy.” He sat on the bed beside me. I felt a sense of ease from his presence that I knew I should trust, even though I didn’t know why. He gently ran his hand over my forehead, lifting my bangs to look at the bandage. “Bevin,” he shouted.

Or maybe it wasn’t a shout, but the sound certainly rang through my pounding skull like one, making the throb stronger than ever.

The other woman moved closer to the bed.

Bevin, I guessed. She was short and round.

Her back was slightly hunched over but her face was bright, her cheeks cheery.

Her hair was pinned up in a tangled bun that bounced as she moved.

She reminded me of an aunt who used to live with my family.

“I’ve got it, Manus, calm down. I like you better as a cat.

You’re not so bossy.” She was the one with the nice voice.

She handed him a gold necklace with an intricate charm of a soaring bird, its body an amber stone.

The glowing stone hummed ever so slightly.

My gaze darted between the charm and the man’s green eyes.

“Hush! She’s not ready for all that yet.” He took the necklace from her and held it out toward me.

The woman tsked. “She needs to be ready. We’re short on time, my feline friend.” She scuttled to the far side of the room, bun bouncing as she went.

The man leaned toward me and lifted the necklace. Startled, I put up my hand, but even that movement seemed to hurt.

“I’m asking again. Who are you people and where am I?” Ignoring my protest, he placed the necklace over my head. Who was I to argue? I was a captive. There were three of them between me and the door.

As soon as the metal of the necklace hit my chest, the pain in my head subsided dramatically. I put my hand to the charm, shocked.

“Bevin, I would like to do this as gently as possible. Can you make sure that we have no surprises in the next few minutes?” The stern woman nodded toward the door.

Bevin mumbled something and the door slammed shut, the large iron latch creaking as it slid into place and locked the door—all on its own.

“Bevin,” she huffed. “I just said…oh, never mind.” She turned to me.

“Kee—Mary, there is no delicate way to do this, my dear, so I’ll just jump right in.”

I looked into her eyes. She was trying for a look of empathy but the way she carried herself screamed power.

“I am Doran, High Priestess of the Winds. I’m the leader of all Witches—”

I barked out a laugh but she wasn’t even smiling. I bit my lip to combat the fit of giggles about to overtake me. I’m in a coma and this is a drug-induced hallucination. Not a problem, I told myself, just go along. Don’t fight the madness.

“And the spiritual guide of the Kith in general,” she continued, hesitating for a heartbeat to let her statement sink in completely and presumably prepare me for the rest. “You are my niece.” She waited for some sort of response.

She was regal in the way she held herself.

She was fit and strong. I could see it in her posture.

“Sure,” I said. Don’t fight it and you’ll wake up in no time, I told myself again as another giggle slipped.

She started again, not the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice or any acknowledgment of my state of amusement. “You’ve been late coming into your”—she hesitated—“maturity but it has now begun, and we have brought you back to us for the rest of the indoctrination.”

Indoctrination? That sobered me up. So I’m not in a coma. I’ve been kidnapped by some wacko cult. Maybe I’m in more trouble than I thought. I could feel my heart rate speeding up. I tried to brace myself up on the bed with my arms.

“This,” she said, motioning to the green-eyed man on the side of my bed, “is Manus, your guardian. He’s been with you since you were twelve.

He is the one who brought you home after the Slaugh attacked you.

” I was starting to get a little scared.

“We had hoped that someday your magic would mature. As such, Manus has stayed with you.”

“Uh-huh.” I looked back and forth rapidly from her to the man she called Manus. He was an attractive man with a strange sort of light gray hair. It wasn’t the gray men get from aging, but more the gray of a stormy night. He was well built, but not in an overly muscled way.

Then I remembered the guys in the black capes. They were scary enough. At least they looked like bad guys.

These people looked mostly normal.

He smiled tenderly at me. “I’m glad to finally meet you in my human form.”