by Lucy True
“What purge?” Burgundy blew out a breath as everything Jenna was implying sent heat pulsing through her body. “Are you saying there’s no other female warlocks whatsoever, that someone killed them?”
She remembered what her aunt said about there being no female warlocks and pulled out her cell phone. What a strange memory for this conversation to jog, but the implications of it had her gritting her teeth.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened,” Jenna answered. “There was a cleansing of sorts, though the Witches Council tried to cover it up. But you know me – I found the truth. Why? What are you doing?”
“Aunt Iris told me the female warlocks have been gone since she was a kid. Now you’re telling me they were basically cleansed, which is too awful to contemplate. Iris is more than two hundred, maybe even older, so...” Burgundy entered the numbers in her calculator and grimaced at the result. “How could there possibly be no female warlocks since at least the early eighteen hundreds?”
Now it was Jenna who pushed out a loud exhalation and shook her head. “Even for supernatural creatures, that’s a long time to go without children of a certain gender. Not good.”
“I mean, didn’t anyone even try to make a female warlock?”
“Maybe your father was the first person who was stupid or brave enough to give it a shot. No pun intended.”
Burgundy furrowed her brow and cleared the calculator off her phone. For once, even she had to admit this wasn’t the time or the place for puns. “Well, regardless, why only women? That’s awfully misogynistic of witches.”
“Think about it, Burg. Remember what I said and what we learned in school? Offspring inherit the characteristics of their mother, with rare exceptions. If you want to stop an entire race from reproducing, who do you take out first?”
The very idea horrified Burgundy to the core, a bone-deep sensation that burned inside her until it pushed bile up into her throat. Whether her father created her out of bravery or stupidity, to be a lover or a fighter, no longer mattered.
What she was up against meant she was in so much more danger than she’d ever thought possible.
Chapter Nine
It took a lot of convincing to get Jenna to bring her home. Convincing, a trip to Dunkies, an afternoon at the zoo cooing over the baby red lemurs, more convincing, and a half-hour of reassuring her ex-girlfriend that she’d be okay. Because ex or not, Jenna clearly had Burgundy’s best interests at heart.
“And while I appreciate that,” Burgundy told her during the drive south, “I think we can learn a lot more if I stay in Rock Grove for now.”
Having that dampening sensation slam down over her again when they entered Rock Grove almost made Burgundy want to turn back, but she gritted her teeth and tried to ignore it. She had to stay the course, she told Jenna, because of what Mr. Knight had offered.
Jenna threw her sideways glances that Burgundy did her best to also ignore. A succubus like Jenna had only one thing going for her – the ability to seduce men and women. Not exactly effective, even against people who might mean her harm. Burgundy couldn’t blame her for doubting this was the best course of action.
“Look, this Council is up to no good,” Jenna told her. “I don’t know what their end game is, but I wouldn’t trust any of them. Not even your aunt. Especially not your aunt. I mean, not only is she a member in good standing, but her sister – your mother – is a Finder. One wrong move and you’re toast.”
“Yeah, but my mother also told Iris to protect me.” There was no forgetting the email she’d discovered last winter. The one that implored Iris, You know what’s at stake. Keep my baby safe. “She cares. She has to care,” Burgundy muttered, more to herself than Jenna.
“Who – Iris or your mother?”
“Both of them. Either of them. Whatever.” Another complicated question Burgundy couldn’t yet answer, but that she’d have to face sooner or later. “Look, do me a favor and keep in touch. I appreciate you trying to rescue me. Really, it means more than you know. But I think there’s still more I can learn in Rock Grove if I have a little time.”
The skin over Jenna’s knuckles went white. “I’m afraid you don’t have much of that, considering the Finders are already sniffing around town. I just don’t want you to get in over your head. These guys are highly-trained witches, not to mention fighters. You have no idea the physical stuff they go through to become the warriors they are when they graduate.”
Burgundy drew an X across her chest, a nostalgic gesture that reminded her of fourth grade. “Cross my heart, Jenna, I won’t tempt fate. But if that Reginald guy shows up, don’t expect me to roll over and play dead, either.”
“You? Ha!” Jenna shook her head and turned onto the gravel road that led to Burgundy’s house. “You’re the last person who’d do that and that’s what concerns me. Try not to push his buttons if you can help it. That’s all I ask. You’re not exactly quiet when it comes to injustice, you know. That mouth of yours might get you into big trouble and that’s what I’m worried about.”
“I get it, I really do. But if I start running now, when does it stop?” Burgundy knew what Jenna was asking of her, but that wasn’t the kind of thing she could promise.
Still, she nodded, thanked Jenna for the ride, and stepped out of the car when it came to a stop in front of the house. Warm golden light glowed from every window, illuminating the Victorian architecture in the blue twilight. Burgundy loved this house as much as she loved her town, and the thought that anyone, be they an individual or an entire group, posed a threat to it made her ball her fists at her sides. If only she could plant of those fists in a Finder’s face – any would do – that’d show ‘em.
She glanced at Jenna, who stared back at her through the windshield. Burgundy offered her a lopsided smile and waved. She’d made her choice. Time to commit, to see it through. It was nice to know she had a safety net outside Rock Grove and she hoped she wouldn’t have to call on it anytime soon.
Almost the moment she opened the front door, she heard feminine laughter coming from her right. Smoke preceded Arthur’s entrance and then the firedrake popped into view, curled around the banister of the main staircase. “Hide,” he hissed at her. “The Luscious Crones are holding court in the dining room.”
“And eating what?” Burgundy asked, even though she could already guess the answer from the marvelous smell in the hallway.
“They brought pizza, but don’t let that stop you. Go upstairs and I’ll bring you a couple of slices.”
Burgundy leaned as far to the right as she could, trying to see into the dining room. “What are they talking about?”
Before Arthur could answer, someone trilled, “Is that you, Burgundy? Come in and let the ladies see you!”
Arthur pressed his tiny forefoot to his snout. “I knew it. I tried to save you, but it didn’t work. You’ll have to go in there and play nice. Whatever you do, agree with anything she says. Anything, even if you don’t mean it.”
That didn’t sound promising, so Burgundy pressed her lips together and nodded. Even if he could be a cantankerous little dragonbutt at times, Arthur was probably the one creature she trusted more than anyone in Rock Grove. He knew things, things he probably couldn’t say outright to Burgundy. But he tried his darndest to help when he could. Burgundy knew she was better off listening to him than fighting the inevitable, so she trudged into the dining room and glanced at the women there.
Iris sat at the head of the table, the women filling all of the remaining chairs. Her aunt waved at the half-open pizza box and said, “Please take whatever you want. Our soon-to-be-birthday girl deserves no less.”
“Thanks.” If Arthur suggested she agree with anything Iris said, then Burgundy figured short answers were her safest bet. She peered inside the box and saw four slices of pepperoni pizza. Perfect. She’d take the entire box and be on her way. Except, the moment her hands closed on the box...
“Everyone is tickled pink for you, Burg.”
&nb
sp; “Oh?” Arthur had done his best to warn her about a trap and now here it was, sprung with Burgundy caught in it, pizza as the bait. A glance at her aunt showed nothing amiss. Iris wore her usual facial expression, which was neutral, polite, like an actress in a period film. But what came next...
“I’ve told the ladies you’re choosing the domestic path – house witchery, you know,” she explained, glancing around the table at the other crones. “Such a noble path for those who show the talent for it. It will make things easier on everyone.”
Burgundy knew she wasn’t supposed to argue. She was just supposed to say, “Yup,” take her pizza, and leave. But she planted one hand on her cocked hip and glared at Iris. “Really? How so?”
“Well, it’s a nice, humble, unassuming path. No one from the Council will ever find any reason to fault you for that.”
The next voice that entered the conversation was Arthur’s, contained only to Burgundy’s thoughts. “Yes, and no reason to bother with you or Rock Grove ever again, because no warlock would ever choose such a demeaning path. Iris’s reasoning is that it removes any suspicion that you’re after more power.”
Heat flooded Burgundy’s face as the insult sunk in. Here she was, capable of so much more, yet being held back in the name of being humble, honorable... safe.
So, as much as she wanted to fight back with the only thing she had at her disposal – words, and oh-so-many of them – she clutched the pizza box, said, “Can’t wait,” spun on her heel, and strode toward the stairs. At least she’d proved Jenna a teensy bit wrong. There were times she could keep her mouth shut.
Even if this entire thing was such bullshit and she walked away grimacing at the fact that she couldn’t do anything about it. But there was one thing she could do, one thing above all else that didn’t involve being the perfect witch or a warlock hindered by outside forces.
She could learn. She could test herself and decide what was what. And she didn’t need her aunt’s approval to do that.
Chapter Ten
It was Thursday before Burgundy got the opportunity to get away from her aunt and do a little work on her own. Ever since the winter solstice, Iris had insisted on constant practice with witchcraft, magick that required a very different way of controlling and accessing it. It didn’t matter that each session left Burgundy drained and frustrated, or that the talent didn’t come to her naturally. Iris pushed for her to continue whenever Burgundy was home from work.
However, ever since concocting the plan to make her claim the domestic path, Iris had backed off somewhat. Especially with Burgundy’s supposed agreement to the plan. She told Burgundy to focus on her strengths, like using her magick to stir tea or coffee, sweep and mop floors, and fold laundry. Humble, indeed, and good enough for Iris.
But not good enough for Burgundy, who decided traipsing through the woods to her and Charlotte’s secret spot was preferable to another day of drudgery under her aunt’s direction.
“First things first,” she muttered to herself. “I know what I can do and what I can’t do. Now let’s see if I can figure out how to do what comes naturally to me.”
“Is that really something you should be doing out here, where people might find you?”
Burgundy whirled around, stumbling back and lifting her hands. Not that she could do much of anything. Her magick rarely functioned beyond the daily household tasks. It wasn’t as if she could shoot energy from the tips of her fingers or something. Still, her first instinct was to find a way to defend herself because, warlock or not, she was also only human.
“Are those hands loaded?” Martha snorted and waved for Burgundy to lower them. “I’m here to help.”
“You help me? How?” Burgundy blinked and took a deep breath, her heart still racing. “I’m sorry. That came out rude. What I mean is, how can you help me?”
Instead of her usual long dress and floppy straw hat, Martha wore denim overalls and a black t-shirt, which made her snow-white hair look even whiter than usual. Burgundy couldn’t remember seeing the Amazon dressed in such a way, but it made sense. The outfit was far more practical for walking through the woods than her long skirts and big hat. She also carried a tall, knobby staff, perfect for testing the ground to ensure it was sturdy enough for her footfalls.
What was neither practical nor normal was the enormous sword strapped to her back.
“You need someone on your side and that someone is me.” Martha sat on a thick stump, placed one hand atop her knee, and planted the staff firmly next to her. “Show me what you got.”
“Are you serious? I can’t do this in front of you because, you know, witchcraft... I mean... my witchcraft,” Burgundy babbled, not sure how to explain herself. She couldn’t exactly tell Martha the truth: that she was here not for witchcraft, but for... warlockcraft? Whatever it was, enough people already knew the truth. Another person meant expanding the circle of those in the know, something she didn’t want to have happen.
Martha rolled her eyes and said, “I know what you are, Burgundy. First of all, that spell your mother and aunt cast to keep us from remembering when you were born didn’t affect me. Second, your eyes go all silver when you aren’t even thinking about it. Like or not, you can’t exactly repress what you are.”
“Hold on. Rewind.” Burgundy spun her index fingers around and started with the first question that came to mind. “How could the spell not affect you? Are Amazons immune to witchcraft?” That seemed like a good conversation to have. It would keep them from getting to the heart of the matter and give her a chance to decide how much she could trust Martha, if at all.
“Not exactly, no. You saw what happened when I got hit by Cupid’s arrow. Magick can get me pretty good, whether I like it or not. But I was out of town at the time you were born, visiting my sisters. I came back in time to see Cian Black fleeing. He stopped me before I could go into Rock Grove, warned me about what your mother and her sister were up to, and asked me to keep an eye on you.”
Now it was Burgundy’s turn to sit down. Without the benefit of a stump, she went to the ground, the impact jarring her until she had a chance to absorb both that and the information. “My father told you to watch over me? First Mr. Knight and now you, and then Jenna figuring all of this stuff out on her own. How many babysitters do I have out there and why did he choose you?”
“He knows Amazons are honorable, particularly when it comes to sisterhood. Your mother and aunt seemed to know we were at cross-purposes from the start. That’s why I’m not one of the Luscious Crones. Iris doesn’t want me anywhere near you. Those who know are supposed to pretend you’re a witch, not a warlock. Just like you’re supposed to pretend by choosing a path on your birthday.”
Pretend.
That one word knocked the wind out of her. “Yes, everything about my life has been pretend,” she whispered, slumping. “I’ve known that all this time. I only wish the people around me who also knew that had come forward sooner.”
“Or maybe you wish you’d ended up with your father instead of your aunt?”
“Let’s not be hasty.” Burgundy straightened and locked her glare on Martha. Yes, she’d been wishing that lately, but not in a desire to go back to the past. “I mean, sure, I would have learned how to be a warlock, but he doesn’t seem like a guy of high moral character or anything. Jeez, this has been a lot to process over the past few days. Now I’m not sure where to go or what to do.”
Unperturbed as usual, Martha cocked her head and asked, “What did you come all the way out into these woods to do?”
Burgundy shrugged and scratched at an itch on her upper arm. With one person after another coming out of the woodwork to tell her they knew her secret, that she could trust them, things felt too good to be true. She didn’t want to doubt their sincerity, but what else could they possibly do for her? It wasn’t like any of them could teach her How to Warlock 101, which was the whole reason she’d decided to come to the woods in the first place. To see what she was capable of, what she coul
d actually do without any help.
Magick might not be an intuitive thing, but some things did come to her easily, like her ability to sense it and then there was her immunity to various supernatural effects. Not exactly normal for a witch, as far as she knew, but other than the most powerful potions and the nullifying circle, she’d never fallen prey to Jenna’s succubus charms, had her emotions altered by Charlotte’s pathokinesis, or been touched by anything else she could remember.
“I guess I came out here to see if I could figure out stuff on my own, like what I am capable of.”
Martha hummed between her compressed lips. “Well, we’re going to need to take out that nullifying circle first. If you try to work magick with that, they’ll know.”
“They’ll know?” Burgundy repeated.
“What are you – a parrot? Yes, they’ll know. The circle doesn’t just dampen a warlock’s powers. It also pings the Finder who created it when someone tries to cast inside of it. It’s a sort of multipurpose spell they use for hunting warlocks and you don’t want them zeroing in on you. It’s layered over your aunt’s spell and bad news, all around. That’s why I’ve been tracking you everywhere you go. I had to be able to step in before you tried anything, before it was too late.”
“Crap.” Thinking about all the times she’d cast basic household spells had Burgundy lowering her face to her hands and groaning. “I’ve been using my magick for housework. Does this mean I’ve pretty much fallen into their trap?”
Martha unfolded herself from the stump, rising to her full height of just over six feet. “Not necessarily. You have a witch side, after all, and if you’ve been drawing on that magick, they won’t know. Yet.”
All the times Burgundy had reached for that oh-so-elusive power, had struggled for it... Yes, it made sense that it would fall beneath the Finders’ notice. She breathed a little easier at the thought.
