by Lily Luchesi
Would they care if they found out one was living amongst them?
Chapter Three
Winter break officially began Saturday morning. Eight days of no school or homework. Dad even gave me a break from magic lessons yesterday. I still haven’t asked about the Academy and if he’ll be taking a position with them. Having him around has been great.
The air smells of snow as I move to close the passenger door of Remy’s Jeep.
“I’ll swing by at eight, Em. Don’t make me wait out here for you,” Remy says.
I lean in to stick my tongue out. Is he blushing? “I know. Even I don’t want to be late for the Midwinter festivities. See you then.” I slam the door and run up the driveway.
My hair and clothes smell like flowers. That’s the main reason I love helping at Floral Hearts during busy times. That, and being around my best friend. And making money is good, too. His mom’s shop was busy so I couldn’t talk with Remy much. Preoccupied, I almost don’t notice the second car in the driveway. Mom’s home!
Finding the door unlocked, I enter the house and hear voices in the distance. I toss my coat onto the rack and remove my sneakers. In heavy socks my feet make no sound as I jog towards the kitchen. The coffee maker is loudly grinding beans. Mom laughs. Halfway down the hallway my right sock catches on something, causing me to stop. Kneeling to investigate, the whirl of the machine ceases. My parent’s conversation comes in clearly.
“She made the petals turn into different colors? Maddix, that’s wonderful! And just before her birthday?” Mom’s carefree tone fills with happiness. “We’ve been so worried over her lack of signage. My gift, yours, even family that I can remember didn’t have to wait so incredibly long for theirs to appear.”
A cabinet door opens and is closed. Spoons clink against mugs. “I know, love. I had concerns too, but I witnessed it. Watched those petals change.” Dad laughs so loudly I can’t help but smile. “That second day, when Salem made the flowers become rainbows of colors was exhilarating. They switched quickly. Yellow, orange, red, green, the sight amazed me.”
A chair scrapes across the tile floor. “Salem’s gift is fully in then?”
“I don’t think it has. Not fully. Luce, I studied her while she concentrated. I could almost feel something in the way—”
A mug smacks down on the counter. “You don’t think? No! Maddix, we would’ve noticed it.” From joyful both my parents now seem disgruntled and concerned over something I don’t yet understand. I free a thread from a small protruding nail and slowly stand. I should go in and announce my presence.
But I don’t.
“We should have been able to see if someone had blocked our daughter’s powers from surfacing. We’re both tremendously gifted, but Luce, it depends upon the who.”
Mom whispers harshly, “You don’t think he would dare? Would he? Why?”
Water runs. Dad always rinses his cup before getting a refill. “Erich must have had a reason. I can think of no one else whose magic could get around ours. Can you?” The faucet stops.
The refrigerator door slams shut. “Do you think he’s trying to get out of the union?” Mom whimpers.
What are they talking about? I don’t know any guy named Erich.
A spoon clangs around a mug. Dad sighs. He’s not a sigher. “Oh, Luce, did I make a mistake all those years ago by agreeing to his preposterous suggestion? Can I take it back? I’d rather see her with Remy.”
Hold up. My stomach literally drops to the floor.
“Remy? Oh, sweets, they’re good friends. Not marriage material.” Her laugh is a bit shrill.
“I’ve watched that young man. He loves her. In fact, they both act like we did when we were their ages.” Dad states it all with incredible conviction. “I missed you, Luce.”
Mom makes this gurgling sound. “I have had to sleep alone in a hotel bed, Maddix. Thinking of—” What sounds like a chair falling over makes my eyes widen. The last thing I hear is Mom? Or is that Dad, groaning?
Eww…that’s disgusting. I backpedal down the hall before I take the stairs two at a time straight to my room. Shutting the door quietly, I stretch out on my bed.
What just went on between my parents must be an example of the moon’s influence on us during the Winter Solstice. All the dancing, drinking, eating, and singing we do for an entire day has to affect the adults in a weird way. Their discussion was all over the place. It made no sense. In despair, I flail my arms out over the duvet. My fingers smack down on a box.
Immediately, I sit up. A long silver box with a red bow stretches across my collection of pillows. Forgetting everything that had occurred, I yank up the top and gasp. Tissue paper conceals what Mom must have picked up on her trip for me to wear tonight. There’s a back-up gown in my closet, but she likes to surprise me every year.
With a purr, I separate the sheets and peer in. My parents are instantly forgiven for their making out and nonsensical banter. Besides, they didn’t know I was eavesdropping anyway. The paper crinkles under the weight of my shaking fingers as I remove the dress from the confining box.
Mom’s outdone herself. Instantly, I fall in love. Holding the ball gown in front of my body, I dance before the full-length mirror behind my door. The tulle crisp to the touch, I admire the sweetheart neckline. How the train gently sweeps across the carpet. Sleeveless, gorgeous lace embellishments adorn the front and surround the frame of the open back. An underlay of silver-colored satin appears to sparkle through the black netting.
When the excitement dies down, I remember I still need to shower. Carefully placing the gown on my bed, I grab my robe and skip like a little girl giddy with happiness to my bathroom.
Maybe Quinn was right. I suddenly feel like a princess.
* * *
Across the main road and up on the highest hill, behind two rows of condominiums, the pool house, picnic area, and playground, sits the Blackwater Coven Meeting House. Set back almost into the tree line, the two-story building’s façade and parking lot blends in with its natural setting. It is our coven’s most coveted place. We laud new life, revere death, celebrate our holidays, and revel in our solstices.
Dark brown wood shingles with black shutters adorn the many windows of the long building. The style is a homage to our ancestor’s homes in Salem, Massachusetts. And tonight, three days after winter break began for me, everyone in the coven is arriving to celebrate Midwinter with our annual festival.
Rain has fallen throughout much of the day and a fine mist now covers every surface. With dropping temperatures, we could see frost tonight. Pulling up the collar of my wool coat against the frigid December wind, I jog across the gravel lot in pursuit of Remy. He just called my gown ugly. When I catch up, I swat the back of his head. We both begin to laugh. He wraps his arm in mine, pointing out the garland adorning the windows, doorways, and railings. “I put all of those up with a new spell.”
My parents pass us. “They’re lovely,” Mom says. Dad reaches for her hand and they enter through the doorway which leads to the adult’s section. We’ll see each other later for the midnight meal.
For a moment Remy watches them. The way Dad leans in to speak to Mom. How she turns to smile, before they kiss.
“They were high school sweethearts,” I say, urging him to keep moving. There are others behind us.
He nods. “I remember hearing their stories growing up. My parents were too.” A wistfulness clouds his features briefly. It’s been five years since he lost his dad to a terminal illness.
There are actual candles in the streetlamps positioned around the lot. Their flickering glows add a festive touch to an evening so many of us look forward to. Including me. I’ve enjoyed me during solstice but there’s something different about this year. Perhaps since my magic is breaking through, that adds to the mix. My body’s reaction to Quinn proved that my crush with Remy ended years ago. I will turn seventeen tomorrow. Once I’m fully gifted, I can begin the spring semester at Waylandale. Finally.
&n
bsp; I’ve changed over ten dozen bouquets into different colors. Mom and Dad are thrilled. Me? Not so much. The only way my magic works is by my calling upon my anger.
The books in our home library all say the same thing. They call that magic wicked.
The longer I use it, the more I chance becoming a dark user. And if I’m a maverick, well, my mind doesn’t want to fret over the ramifications.
For now, all I want is to have a nice time and see what my birthday brings.
Remy and I step over the threshold at the same time. We follow the others to wait our turn at the coat check. When we reach the window, Lila winks at him. “Save a dance for me.” She reaches for his coat to hang it up, forgetting me. Or not. Any girl interested in Remy views me as competition.
We’re close friends, that’s all, but I don’t bother reassuring any of them. None listen.
“You can have more than one, Lila.” The tips of Remy’s ears turn red.
Another girl, Stacy, notices Lila’s blunder and retrieves my coat. “Hi, Salem. Love your gown.”
“Thanks.” I offer a small smile. Stacy rolls her eyes at her co-worker and stamps a number on my hand.
The next group steps up and we’re forced to continue down the hall. Just before we enter the ballroom, we stop by a large wood box on a table to take our First Dance, Last Dance bracelets. I slip my hand into the slot to retrieve a garland-like wristlet. They say the bespelled bracelets select its wearer and once put on cannot be removed until the evening has ended. Mine is made up of pine and berry branches. Two gold stars the size of pearls hang from decorative twine on one end.
Remy is already wearing his which he discretely tries to conceal with his jacket sleeve.
Each set of bracelets is unique. The point to this annual tradition is to pair up two single people for at least two dances to see if the magic of the Yule will kindle something more. Nothing happened with my past partners. Not that they interested me to discover their identities.
We’re not allowed to date humans and I don’t attend any school dances. What’s the point? We only marry within the coven network. In this dress with my hair and make-up done by a professional, I feel special. For one night, anything can happen. That’s Yule. The Goddess could have something planned.
A certain green-eyed guy flashes through my mind. Unfortunately, he’s not in our coven. Otherwise, he’d see that my hair returned to its deeper golden brown. I haven’t texted him.
“Your mom and her staff did an excellent job, as usual,” I remark to Remy, taking in the living trees lining one wall, all beautifully done up. The two of us worked at the store, freeing her up to be here.
“They did. After I dropped you off, I joined them.” Remy offers me a glass of hot apple cider which I sip. A couple of my girlfriends huddled in a corner wave me over. He laughs, gently pushing me in their direction.
“You look very pretty, Em,” he says.
Before I can thank him, he joins a group of guys gathered in another section.
Aria and Wren are twins. They live across the street and we’ve always been friends. They’re in the same year as Remy. I haven’t seen them since they left for the fall semester. After we hug, we catch up with one another.
The first hour of the Midwinter Festival is for sampling appetizers, drinking, and socializing. Dancing takes over hour number two and continues until midnight. It soon becomes apparent my being an outsider has left little to chat about. The twins use the bathroom excuse to break away. With no choice, I walk around doing my solo act.
Times like these my social status doesn’t mean much. The others won’t pick on or belittle me for fear of reprimand. As I go by, the others offer small smiles and pleasant nods, before going about their business. If I went to the Academy, things might be different.
But they’re not.
As a Silva-Corbett, I keep my head high and make my rounds around the space. Within ten minutes I spot the sisters with the Waylandale group. Getting as far away from them as I can go, I wind up at the opposite end by the glass doors leading to the garden. Just as I sense a gradual divide between Remy and I, the same is happening with all my coven friends.
The chandeliers with candlesticks dim. Midwinter fun officially begins.
We find our partner for the opening dance by, what else? Magic. There’s a prickle across my wrists and cheeks. The stars on the bracelet begin to glow. They’re seeking out their match.
Who will I dance with tonight? Someone I know or a visiting stranger?
To heighten our enjoyment, there’s also an element of mystery. I touch the mask which now adorns the top half of my face. Nothing like a masquerade in winter. The band launches into a lively tune. Established couples kick off the party. In minutes, partners locate one other and rush towards the center.
Midwinter isn’t about hooking up or finding a soulmate. The festival, besides marking the longest night of the year, celebrates family and friends. When the dancing portion ends, we sit down to a feast in the dining room. Afterwards, everyone adjoins outside to pay our respects to the Goddess by singing traditional songs around a bonfire.
Couples ranging from teens to twenty-somethings twist and dip their partners to an infectious beat. My own parents must be having a great time next door along with the other adults. They have an orchestra. Council members bewitched the rooms to keep the sounds from spilling out. There’s also the children’s room where babies and toddlers can sleep while older kids are entertained by storytellers or can settle into a reading spot with a book.
The wristlet continues to tingle, yet no one enters this section. There’s a sound of a squeaky hinge on a door protesting as it’s opened and closed. Some go outside to smoke or stroll. I continue to watch. The scent of cologne overpowers the pine trees arranged behind me. Before anything registers, a hand intertwines with me and we’re moving. Towards the crowd.
“Sorry I’m late. Traffic accident,” a male voice croons into my ear. Goosebumps burst across every inch of my exposed skin. Why did I wear a black sleeveless gown? Oh, because Mom brought it back from her trip and I fell in love with it.
Words don’t make it out of my mouth before I’m spinning around. Strong arms guide and stop me. My hands smack against a black brocade jacket that shines with shades of deep blue and silver under the candlelight. Once again, before I can make out any identifying mark of my partner, he’s grabbed my fingers in his and we turn. Dip. Turn. The effect dizzying. The singer yells out and the crowd cheers. It’s exhilarating.
The beat quickens. The sound level increases. And the room is packed with laughing, twisting bodies. I’m out of breath but somehow, I manage a smile.
This is fun. One song blends into another and then another. I lose track, content just to let go and enjoy myself. Forget what I’ve been through and experience these moments. The pining strings of an electric violin suddenly overtake everything else as the tempo eases up, morphing into something slow and very romantic. I still haven’t seen the face of the man before me.
Incredibly low lights make seeing anything difficult. Whoever he is, he draws me closer into the sanctuary of his body inches taller than mine. One set of fingers rests around the curve of my hip, his other hand settles on my shoulder. Two of his fingers trace designs across my bare skin, the others play with the lace embellishments adorning the sweetheart neckline of my gown.
His touch stirs something deep in me. I resist the urge to giggle at how my thoughts remind me of some of the romance books I’ve read. When he steers me closer, oh so close, I feel the heat of his skin on mine. I give in and press the side of my head against the top of his chest. I don’t worry about disturbing the mask. The magic makes it a part of my skin, with pretty ribbon edging. Besides, when the music finally dies down, all of this will disappear into a memory.
Past partners have never fit so perfectly like this new one does. None have lasted this long. His chin rests on top of my upswept hair as we sway like a boat just released upon the water. Relaxe
d from the cider I know was spiked, a yearly tradition, my eyes flutter closed. Within minutes, my partner’s hand drifts down my arm. His fingers seek comfort intertwined with mine. We remain like this through a block of slow and romantic songs. It’s also a signal that the dancing portion will soon end.
The singer announces the last song. There’s a collective groan, including my own. And then the music starts up.
“I’ve enjoyed this evening,” mystery dance guy says breathlessly into my ear. “I want to see you after Midwinter ends.”
In response, my head begins to move up and down. “I’d like that, too.”
With that, we gravitate towards one another once again and let our bodies experience the music. I revel in the magic, in how my skin, down to each cell, seems truly alive.
We’ve made this corner between the decorative trees and the doors our own space. Too soon, the tune begins to wind down. Suddenly my partner lures me through a secret door hidden between two trees. A clock begins to chime.
Midnight is here.
Dim candlelight gleams from wall sconces. The space we’ve entered is a library or someone’s office. I never knew this was here. We stop by a bookcase. The skin on my face prickles and at the end of the twelfth chime, both of our masks dissolve away into nothingness.
In the sobering moment I gaze up at the rather pleased face of my partner.
“You do the regal look proud, Princess.”
“Q-Quinn?” I stammer. “I danced with you all evening?”
He holds up his wrist from which the twin of my bracelet hangs. The dim of its stars slowly fading. Like mine.
My mind races. “You’re not in this coven.”
With a shrug, he steps closer. “I’m staying at Philip’s place. Feeding that lizard of his.”
“I thought Remy was doing that.”
Quinn picks up my hand and plays with the stars. “I think Phil relieved him of that duty.”
