by Ivy Asher
“Stop!” Magda screams as pictures fall from the walls and a crack moves up the grand marble stairs to the right. “Please stop!” she begs.
“Where is my book?” I snarl, my tone not to be trifled with.
“We don’t have it!” she squeals, but she can’t seriously think that I’ll believe that.
They thought they were big and untouchable when they stole the grimoire, but as the ground quakes beneath them and cracks climb up the walls of this eye-sore of a house, reality is dawning. Magda wants to argue, I can see it in her eyes, but she knows the longer this goes on, the more I will destroy. Right here in this moment, my wrath, my claim, is undeniable.
The power I feel coursing through me is heady. My heart is pounding with excitement as I connect to the essence of those who came before me. The magic inside of me feels eager and ready, like it wants to play and test its limits, but I’m not trying to get myself buried in the rubble of this house. I just want the grimoire and to never see my aunt and my cousin again. Their torturous reign of supremacy and entitlement is over. The bones have chosen, and they’re no more special than any other average human. They’re the Lessers they always mocked and held themselves above.
Out of nowhere, Theresa the maid comes running back into the room, a large chestnut leather-bound book clutched in her arms. Her gait is unsteady as the ground trembles beneath her, but she staggers toward me, determination etched in her features. I release my hold on the bones that are part of the very fabric of this land, and she hands me the tome. With it, she also passes over my grandmother’s scrying board, her onyx pendulum, and a long silver chain with a pendant that has my family’s sigil on it.
“How dare you!” Magda shrieks, stomping over easily now that the tremors have subsided. She raises a hand as if to slap the frail middle-aged woman, and without a thought or even an uttered incantation, I lift my hand and stop Magda’s bones from carrying out the loathsome action. I’m a little taken aback by the ease in which I just wielded a lot of serious power, but I hide my surprise away and embrace the pride and exhilaration that bloom in my chest.
This whole magic thing is so much more than I could have ever imagined, and I can’t deny, boss bitch looks good on me. Magda becomes a statue, her ability to move taken from her as easily as blinking. She can still make noise, but the screech emanating from her is nonsensical without her ability to move her mouth and form words. It all happens so fast that Theresa flinches back, expecting a hit that will never come.
“What the hell did you do to my mother?” Gwen cries out, pulling on Magda’s raised arm. It doesn’t budge.
She wails and tries to move her mother, to snap her out of the state that I just put her in, but she’s more likely to snap her arm if she keeps it up. I have a hold of her bones, and she’s not moving until this woman is safely out of here and I have some answers. “Did you think I wouldn’t come looking for this?” I irritably ask my frozen aunt. “What was the point of stealing it in the first place?” I’m about to release my aunt’s jaw so she can talk, but Theresa’s next words stop me.
“They were going to burn it,” she tells me quietly, and my mouth drops open in shock. “Gwen was going to read everything in it, and then they were going to destroy it.”
Theresa’s declaration leaves me speechless. How could anyone be so selfish, so reckless, so completely corrupt? Hate that I have the bones all you want, but the grimoire isn’t just for me, it’s for every Bone Witch that will come after. They would have maimed our line of magic, and for what?
Disgust fills me. I know the grimoire has protections, but I need to make sure that nothing like this can ever happen again. It’s too valuable to allow anyone to get this close to potentially destroying it and crippling our magic forever.
“Thank you for protecting these things,” I tell Theresa, my voice hollow with shock. Ignoring Gwen’s peals of panic, I pull out my phone and slip a card from the back of my phone case. “I’m incredibly grateful that you did the right thing. I know it wasn’t easy, and I know what it’ll cost you,” I tell her as I hand her my card. “Call me in a couple of days, and I’ll help you find a better job.”
“Thank you, sorceress, you are very kind. I’m so sorry that you were dishonored at the start of your reign. May those who stand against the rightful Osteomancer crumble like pillars of dust,” she declares, reaching up and forming the sign of the cross on my forehead.
Surprise flickers through me like a sputtering candle, and I’m taken aback by her respectful greeting and unexpected knowledge of what’s happening. I thought she was just a maid, but as she offers me her regard, I can feel that there’s so much more there. Magic is wrapped around her like armor, and I can sense that it belonged to my Grammy Ruby. I can feel her blessing all over this woman. The distinct sense that she guided her here, for this moment, washes through me. I stare at Theresa, floored by what I suddenly know about her. She’s from a line of coven disciples. I didn’t even know they existed anymore, but I can feel Theresa’s unwavering devotion to whomever the bones find worthy.
I’m flabbergasted by my grandmother’s foresight, and shocked to know that devotees of magic still exist. I stare into Theresa’s adoring brown eyes, and it’s as though I can feel my Grammy’s love and the plans she laid out for me. I know in this moment, without a shadow of doubt, that she knew it would be me all along. She set things in motion to help me, and I can only wonder what else she foresaw that I’d be up against.
I look over at Rogan, quizzically. Did Grammy Ruby connect us on purpose too? Did she know what was happening to the other Osteomancers? Is there more to all of this that I have yet to see?
I focus back on Theresa as she steps away to leave. I’m not sure what exactly comes over me then. A warmth breezes around me like it’s a summer day, and heat caresses slowly down my spine. I’m hit by a similar feeling that percolated through me when I knew I needed to help Rogan. A calm and clearness sharpens my mind, and I know instinctively exactly what I need to do. I reach out to Theresa and rest my hand on her upper arm. Awe sparks in her gaze, and she holds her breath as I start to speak.
“May your line walk with the honor and steadfastness that you showed here today. And as long as they do, the magic of this line will guide and protect them from their first breath to their last. May this blessing and promise be woven into your very bones, and with it, feel my unending gratitude and regard.”
Magic drips down her person from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. It’s colorless, but palpable. A captivating shimmer that sparkles all around her as I stare reverently at the magic-laced blessing that moves to cloak her. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’m completely floored by just how beautiful and utterly powerful it is.
Theresa’s eyes fill with watery gratitude, and a wonderstruck smile spreads across her face. I look down at my hands, astonished. Did I really just do all that?
“I’m honored, sorceress, beyond honored. If you ever need anything, anything at all, please call on any Palliano. That’s my family name, and my line will serve you like we’ve served all the Osteomancers that came before.”
“Thank you,” I offer and then cringe as Gwen’s screaming reaches a whole new pitch.
Theresa leaves without another word, and I’m yanked from the calm of our exchange back into the harsh reality of screams and shrill demands to fix my aunt. I turn back to Magda and Gwen, who is now ruddy and splotchy from her efforts to de-statue her mother.
“Lennox, let her go!” Gwen shrieks once again, pulling at her mother’s extended hand. Magda’s face is frozen with malicious intent, her narrowed eyes and venomous grimace are the perfect encapsulation of the kind of person she is.
“Stop yanking on her like that, or you’re going to break something,” I warn Gwen as I open the camera on my phone and snap a couple of pictures of my aunt in all her heinous glory. This year’s family Christmas card is going to be epic.
“Fuck you, bitch. If you think you’re goin
g to get away with this…” Gwen pulls on her mother again like she thinks there’s a hidden lever that will release her, only this time when she does, a resounding crack fills the air, and Magda’s arm from the middle of her forearm down, hangs at an angle.
“Oh shit,” Rogan mutters, horrified, his fist in front of his mouth like it will trap the shock from spilling out.
“Oh god!” Gwen wails when she realizes what she’s done.
I cringe and shake my head. I did tell her to stop doing that.
“You broke her!” Gwen yowls, her gaze murderous.
“Technically, you did that,” I retort, pointing at my aunt and drawing an air circle around the broken arm she just acquired.
“Let her go right now!” she screams, sounding more like a whistling teapot than a human.
“That might be a bad idea…” I start, but Gwen cuts me off with a scream.
“Now!”
I release a resigned sigh. Fine, if she doesn’t want to listen, that’s on her. With a flick of my hand, I free Magda from the magic holding her in place. An agonized wail rips through the battered foyer, and she crumples to the ground, cradling her broken arm. Gwen drops with her, reaching for her injured hand.
“You stupid idiot,” Magda snarls at Gwen, pulling her hand out of her daughter’s reach. She looks up at me, pain and rage alight in her gaze. “Fix this,” she orders, holding her arm up to me, the break now hanging at a complete right angle. “Fix this, or so help me I’ll make sure those bones don’t stay yours for long.”
“Are you threatening her...again?” Rogan asks smoothly, stepping past me and moving his body just in front of mine in an oddly protective way.
“She broke my arm!” Magda accuses, her scream rivaling that of a feral pig.
“She did nothing other than stop you from assaulting someone. Your obstinate and careless daughter did that to you.”
Gwen’s face scrunches in outrage, but Magda cuts off whatever vitriol she’s about to spew at Rogan. Bet she’s regretting all that drool she left on the floor when she first laid eyes on him. Must be a talent of his.
“You bring some Lesser into my home, attack me and my daughter, and now you let him talk to your blood like that?” she demands, and I snort out a laugh.
“Oh, we’re blood now?” I ask, feigning shock. I could point out that Rogan is no more Lesser than I am, but it doesn’t matter. She’s either trying to offend him by using the slang witches use for those without magic or she’s too dense to realize what he is. Either way, dealing with Magda is a waste of time. I got what I came here for, and I’m over being near such vile people. I’ll need to cleanse myself and probably burn these clothes just to get rid of their evil eye and shitty vibes.
“Let’s go.”
Rogan nods and turns to leave. Hoot is completely passed out in his arms, like everything that just happened is the perfect napping soundtrack. The sight makes me smile. Such a weird ass dog. At least the butt trumpeting has stopped for the time being.
“You can’t leave. You need to fix this, Lennox!” Magda screams after me, her fury bouncing impotently around the walls and marble floor.
I keep walking.
“Osteomancer! I order you to fix the damage that you’ve done!” she roars.
I shake my head, baffled by this woman’s audacity. I stop and turn back to her, holding up the ancient grimoire that she stole and planned to destroy. “I would love to help you, but some asshole stole my book, and I wasn’t able to learn how. Maybe put some Windex on it, I’ve heard it’s a good cure-all, or…” I tilt my head, mimicking the gruesome angle of her arm. “Yeah, you should probably call an ambulance, see what the Lesser doctors can do for you. Good luck!” I call out sweetly over my shoulder as I turn to leave.
We clear the mess I made with the vase and mirror when suddenly Hoot wakes up and starts wiggling around in Rogan’s arms like he’s been possessed by one of those inflatable air dancers that businesses put outside to draw people’s attention as they drive by. Rogan rushes to put him down so he doesn’t make a jump for it and hurt himself.
I get ready for the tater tot to bolt, but surprisingly, he stops in the middle of the entryway and does what Hoot does best, he stinks up the place via one large pile of shit. The smell is like a jab by a heavyweight to my olfactory receptors. If I weren’t trying to keep from throwing up, I’d be impressed with just how much the little guy had in him.
Rogan looks at Hoot with utter shock, like something that cute shouldn’t be capable of something so vile. I would laugh except that would require breathing right now, and there’s no way in hell I’m sucking those cloying fumes into these precious lungs.
Hoot finishes his gift and then trots to the door, me and Rogan tight on his heels. We hurry out, my aunt and cousin’s rage-filled screams chasing after us as we go. I ignore the threats and promises of retribution, mostly because I’m running out of air and need to get outside with a quickness.
I’m sure they’ll come for me again someday, but for Magda, that’ll be after a couple of surgeries and some pretty intense physical therapy. They may try to find another Bone Witch to fix her, but unless Rogan and I uncover the mystery of where the others have gone, I’m the only one left on this side of the globe.
I shut the front doors behind me, and the demon screams all but disappear. I take a deep, relieved breath and then another as Rogan scoops Hoot back up and looks at him like he’s seeing him for the first time. I reach over and rub behind Hoot’s ears. Guess my pep talk in the car really sunk in; he took that shit to the next level, literally.
A lightness creeps into my chest, and I can’t help the smile that slinks across my face as I head for my car. I guess all those memes were right, victory really is sweet. I mean, I don’t know that I’d say that it’s better than any dessert I’ve ever had, but it’s nice to come out on top for once. A girl could get used to this.
7
Screeching tires and the smell of burnt rubber assault me as a Prius comes tearing up the road, rounds the ostentatious fountain, and skids to a stop a few feet away from where Rogan and I are standing in front of the mansion that’s now seen better days. Out of nowhere, a barred arm slams against my chest, pushing me back. I shout out an objection, but Rogan is already in front of me, an incantation pouring from his lips, as he throws a vial of some kind of potion at the ground. A thin veil of red shoots up in front of us, separating us from the car.
I grab onto Rogan’s shoulder, but before I can tell him everything is fine, he cuts me off.
“Get back, I’ll protect us!”
I roll my eyes and turn to find Hoot sitting on the stone walkway, watching, his expression bored. I motion with my thumb toward Rogan in a distinct can you believe this guy kind of way, but Hoot just blinks and then lifts a leg and pees on a planter that has a trimmed boxwood growing in it. He’s really taking our chat to heart.
“What the fuck?” Tad yelps in alarm as he shoves his car door open and stumbles out to take in the sudden magical wall of protection.
“Watch your language!” Aunt Hillen warns as she hops out of the passenger side of the car. “I swear if I have to tell you that one more time, Thaddeus Tristan Osseus, I’m going to wash that filthy mouth out with soap!”
I snicker at Tad getting three-named, and Rogan turns to me, confused.
“Thank you, king caveman, for your protection against my cousin and aunt. Whatever would I have done without you?” I deadpan, rubbing at my chest where he just arm barred me.
“I practically save your life, and sarcastic barbs are all the thanks I get?” he deadpans back.
“Saved my life?” I gesture toward Tad and Hillen. “We’re not in danger, Will Robinson. I mean, it’s a Prius, for heaven’s sake, what kind of menace are you really expecting to pour out of those four doors?”
“With witches being taken, you can’t be too careful,” he argues, pulling his switchblade out and slicing a small line in his finger, all in one deft motion. He touch
es the barrier with a drop of his blood, and the claret wall dissolves like it was made of nothing more than vapor. I step out from behind my unsolicited bodyguard and wave at Tad and Hillen.
“I know I just met you, Rogan Kendrick, but I can already see that you have a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later,” I point out.
He scoffs indignantly, clearly not possessing even a single ounce of self-awareness.
“Oh, you don’t believe me, the girl you sneak attacked and forced to become a familiar? Or maybe we should ask the two innocent people you just tried to magically turn into bacon?” This only earns me an eye roll from him.
“Excuse me, hi,” Tad coos as he waves at us frantically until Rogan and I both look over. “As much as I could watch this tête-à-tête that’s just oozing all kinds of raw sexual tension all day, we have an ass kicking to get to.”
“As if,” I counter, apparently going full Valley girl with my denial even though I live on the wrong coast.
“Riiight,” Tad snarks back and then points at the front door of Magda and Gwen’s house in a let’s get on with it kind of way. His mahogany-colored gaze is filled with such excitement I almost feel bad that I didn’t wait for them.
I adopt an apologetic mien. “You’re too late. The smackdown already occurred. In fact, there’s probably an ambulance and some cops headed this way as we speak, so we should get the hell out of here.”
“Dammit, I knew it!” Tad huffs out. “Stupid school bus, making us miss this. I’m going to track down that driver and fight her if it’s the last thing I do,” he declares, stomping back toward his car, and I laugh.
“She was like eighty. Give the old lady a break,” his mom scolds, and I laugh even harder.
“Oh don’t you start, Ma, you were just as excited as I was,” Tad volleys.
“You called her a ninny when you finally passed her, isn’t that enough?” Aunt Hillen asks as she opens up her car door.
I shoot an amused yet judgmental look at my cousin and mouth, ninny?
