by Tara West
Chapter Thirteen
Sophie
“What’s the matter?”
I sighed and sank against the cushioned leather seat as I stole a glance at my mom. She was looking at me through sideways eyes while somehow managing to keep the car in the center lane.
“Nothing,” I said through a groan. I really didn’t need my mom to start on me now. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about what was bothering me when all I wanted to do was forget about my awful day.
“Don’t say nothing,” she scolded. “I can tell something is wrong.”
Grrrr. Why wouldn’t she drop it? “Just school stuff,” I answered tersely, hoping she’d take the hint.
Mom heaved a sigh as we slowly came to a stop at a red light. When she turned to me, I could read the motherly concern in the lines of her brow. “I know it’s got to be hard for you with AJ and Krysta gone.”
“So why do you keep reminding me about it?” I spat, unable to keep the venom out of my voice.
“Sophie, sweetheart.” Mom’s eyes softened as her lower lip trembled. “Would you listen to yourself? This isn’t the sweet girl I knew last year. You’ve been changing, and it started before your friends left.”
I shrugged while averting my gaze. Why did my mom have to act like I’d hurt her feelings? Was she trying to make me feel bad? “Maybe I’m just growing up.”
Mom stared at me for a long moment and then shook her head before turning her gaze back toward the road. “We don’t get angry when we grow up, Sophie. We mature.”
I swallowed a knot which had formed in my throat before turning my gaze toward my lap. Was that really how I projected myself? As an angry person? It wasn’t my fault life was spewing crap on me from all directions. But it wasn’t like I could explain my real frustrations to my mom. All I had to do was hint I was a witch and mom would drag me to church and have her priest douse me in holy water.
I’d grown up in a pretty religious household and my church’s idea of witches was totally different than my idea of witches. To my mom, AJ, Krysta and I would be nothing more than devil worshippers who sacrificed babies and black cats. No, there was no way I could tell my mom what was really bothering me, which meant I needed to change the subject. Fast.
“Did you see Alessia today?” I asked her.
Mom exhaled something that resembled either a curse or a groan. “I’ve been with clients all day.” When her gaze darted to mine, I could read the look of defeat in her expression. “I’ll help you look when we get home,” she said on a groan.
“Thanks,” I said with an edge of unease to my voice. Somehow I suspected my mom wasn’t finished nagging me about my anger problem.
“You know, animals are good at sensing when their owners are upset. Maybe that’s why Alessia is avoiding you.”
Wow. It only took her one whole second to get back to the anger lecture.
I arched a brow while leering at her. “So you think I’m too angry for my cat?”
“Sophie, you’re too angry for everyone, especially yourself.” Mom spoke on a rush of air and then cringed, as if she was expecting me to lash out at her.
Holy crap! Had I turned into that big of a brat that I was now able to make my mom cringe? I had this heavy sinking in my gut as I recalled how just a few years ago mom and I used to curl up together on the sofa and watch television. Mom would stroke my hair and I’d snuggle in her arms. How had we gone from cuddling to cringing? Was this really the relationship I wanted with my mom? Maybe she was right. Maybe I did need to work on my anger problem.
***
Krysta
Deb laughed. Her eyes were lined with black makeup and her lipstick was electric red. She looked like a porcelain doll. “You weren’t lying; you’re really bad at cards.”
I smiled sheepishly. “My dad tried to teach me, but it never stuck.”
“The Cobbet family lives and breathes it.” Deb smacked the edge of the deck to the table and then wrapped a hair band around it.
“Who is the ‘Cobbet’ family?”
She flashed me a wide, white smile. “My family. We go back to Puritan times.”
“Back to the trials?”
She nodded, her face hardening. “Yeah.”
I grimaced. “I just stepped in it, didn’t I?”
“No, sorry. Nothing like that. My family came from a long line of witches, but we weren’t persecuted.” She tucked the deck into the black backpack at her feet and didn’t say anything more, though I felt like there was more to her statement.
“That’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you guys about,” Deb said after a long pause. She kicked her boots up on the table, which was already scuffed from where she’d obviously done it before.
“What’s that?”
Deb crossed her arms over her tank top and that same dark tattoo peered out from over the top of it. How on earth did a teenager get a tattoo? “We work well together. You and AJ with the coven.”
I nodded, breathless at the memory. “Yes, definitely!”
“My family is missing a treasured heirloom.”
“What kind of heirloom?”
“A book.” Deb narrowed her eyes. “It was stolen from us a long time ago. I think with the kind of power the six of us raised the other night, we could recover it.”
The back of my neck prickled at the idea. I figured it was excitement. “That sounds like a good time.”
Deb nodded. “Are you in?”
“As long as AJ is.”
***
Olive and DeWan showed up after a while, and I realized how much I liked these people.
Olive was in our year. She was soft-spoken and loved animals; she volunteered at the local shelter, where she scooped poop and walked dogs without getting paid for it.
Ew.
DeWan seemed quiet until you got him going, and then he was more opinionated than AJ. He was a staunch leftie, a senior, and he worked on the fishing boat his father operated.
Deb and I were at the table gabbing about fashion magazines with Olive while DeWan played guitar on the counter when AJ and Tony got back.
For a minute, there were four voices trying to speak at once, until Tony stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled so loudly it made my ears hurt.
“Dude!” Deb said, her hands over her ears.
He shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do?”
“Ask us nicely to shut up?” she offered. If she’d been a little less “mature,” she probably would have stuck her tongue out at him.
From the counter, DeWan played three chords: Dun. Dun. Dunnn.
Everybody laughed.
“We’re going to do the ritual,” AJ told me. “What we talked about earlier at Aunt B’s.”
I motioned to Deb. “We have a ritual to talk to you about, too. To everyone.”
AJ looked at Deb side-eyed and then me. “You’ve been busy.”
“Apparently, so have you,” I said with a laugh. “Let’s sit down.”
DeWan and Tony grabbed chairs from the back room, and the six of us gathered around the table.
First, AJ and Tony filled us in on their conversation at the restaurant. They sat really close together, so close, I was almost positive their hips were touching under the table. I had to hide a smile behind my hand as they took turns speaking, like two peas in a pod.
When they were finished, Deb told her story about the family heirloom and her wish for us to help her locate it.
The silence that followed held all our secrets. The air had been cleared, and all that was left was for everyone to agree.
“So?” AJ asked.
DeWan was the first to speak up. “Well, yeah. I mean, uh, you’re one of us now. You need help, I’m your man.”
Olive nodded. “Ditto. I’m your man.”
We all tittered, and Deb slapped her on the back.
“What about Deb’s problem?” I asked my best friend. “Are you in?”
AJ paused long enough to make Deb
sweat, her combat boots scuffing under the table as she waited.
Then a grin spread over AJ’s face. “Heck yeah. Let’s do this.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sophie
After we got home, I didn’t spare my mom a second glance as I practically jumped out of the car and raced upstairs to my room. I needed to be alone so I could work through the muddled mess in my brain. Was I really that angry? If so, why, and who was I angry with? My mom? My friends? Myself?
I thought of my mom and the church she’d taken the family to since before I was born. My older sisters and I had all had our communions there. We’d all attended Sunday school. We’d been taught there was only one true God and one religion. All others were blasphemy, and witchcraft, was pure evil.
And now I found myself an unwilling witch. Magical powers were forced upon me, and I had no say in it. AJ’s and Krysta’s parents knew they were witches. They even encouraged them to study their craft and improve their powers. My mom, she’d totally freak if she knew. I’d read the disappointment and hurt in her eyes when she lectured me on my anger problem. What if she knew about my “other” problem? Would she think I was evil, too?
Life totally sucked. Why couldn’t I have been a normal teen with normal problems? Like, the disgusting pimple that practically sprouted on my chin overnight should have been the focus of my misery. It was painful, hard, and felt like a freaking tumor. If it grew any bigger, it would need its own zip code.
If I had been a normal teen, I would be obsessing over my pimple, maybe even give it a name like Big Bertha. But Big Bertha was the least of my problems. Besides, my older sister had taught me how to use concealer and powder, so at least Bertha looked less like a mountain and more like a mole hill.
As if Bertha was a sadistic, evil infestation who reaped satisfaction out of making my life miserable, she started to itch. So I scratched the heck out of my chin. I didn’t care how red I made Bertha. I wasn’t planning on leaving my room any time in the near future.
By the time I finished scratching, my chin no longer itched, but it throbbed like hell. I knew I didn’t want to see what I looked like, but morbid curiosity finally won out and I chanced a look in my dresser mirror.
“OH MY FREAKING GAWD!” I slapped my hand over my mouth after screaming a few other choice words. Forget giving Bertha her own zip code. That zit needed her own time zone! I gawked at the glaring red infestation that had burrowed into my chin. It looked so awful, like a big nasty inflamed wart.
A big witchy wart.
Then a thought struck me. Oh crap! Was my hideous transformation part of being a witch? Was I going to end up looking like those ugly warty monsters adding eye of newt to a steaming cauldron?
Panic seized me and I froze while I strained for breath as I gave my muddled brain time to unravel from the vice that had seized all logical thinking.
Okay, AJ’s mom, aunt, and grandma were all witches. They weren’t warty. Maybe this really was just a zit. A big freaking volcanic zit that just needed a good dousing of benzoyl peroxide. Or maybe I needed to lay off the chocolate. Or maybe? I snatched my phone out of my bag and scrolled through the calendar. Today’s date was marked with a big red P.
Oh, that explained it. Maybe that also explained why I was somewhat angry lately. As if on cue, my lower abdomen began to ache. I settled one hand over my stomach and the other over Big Bertha and lay back on my bed.
Then a thought struck me. If my mom’s church thought witches were evil, they’d need even more holy water for a PMS witch.
I laughed out loud at that thought. I couldn’t help myself. Even as my abdomen was struck with another cramp.
What’s so funny, little witch?
I jerked into a sitting position at the small voice that rang clearly in my brain. When I looked down, my kitten, Alessia, was sitting at the foot of my bed. To my amazement, she sprang up beside me and then climbed into my lap.
I sat there frozen for several seconds, looking at my kitten while my mouth hung open. At that moment, I knew what Krysta must have felt like the first time she’d seen a ghost. In my case, the ghost was actually a white fluffy kitty with big blue eyes.
“D-Did you just talk to me?” I stammered.
Of course. Alessia shot me a sideways look before turning and nuzzling my hand. Don’t just sit there gawking. I may not be a pimple, but I like to be scratched, too.
Though my hands felt like deadweights, I managed to reach behind her ears. For a moment, I’d forgotten how soft her snowy fur was. I let my fingers linger for a moment before she nudged me again, purring louder.
I gingerly rubbed her head, increasing the pressure with each stroke. She leaned against my hand, a completely inert little blob of fur, acting strangely like a normal kitten. But the more I scratched her, the more I realized this feline was anything but normal. First of all, she was much bigger than I remembered, more than twice the size than when I’d gotten her. Though I’d never had a cat before, I was pretty sure they didn’t grow this fast.
Then there was that whole telepathic speaking thing. Up until this point, I thought I’d been the only being on the planet who could speak telepathically, but now this magical cat was projecting her thoughts into my brain. I wondered if I could project thoughts into her brain, too, but I was actually too freaked out to try prying into her little feline head. For some reason, talking to a cat out loud seemed a lot less weird.
“Why have you been avoiding me?” I asked, though I suspected the answer.
Alesia flicked her little tail as she stretched out on my lap. You weren’t ready.
I dropped my hand and swallowed as I looked down at her. “But you think I’m ready now?”
Maybe. This is the first time I’ve heard you laugh. I’m hoping it’s a good sign.
My eyes moistened with unshed tears. I hated how emotional I got during this time of the month, but I knew PMS wasn’t solely to blame. Being a witch was hard enough, but being a witch with no one to talk to was even harder. “I know I’ve been angry lately.”
Alessia rolled over on her back and swatted the air with her front paws. As your familiar, it is my job to help you master your powers. I made the mistake once of training a witch who was much like you, angry at the world.
Curiosity piqued my interest. “What happened?”
Alessia dropped her head to one side, her feline eyes closed as if she were asleep. She went mad and murdered many innocents, she said with a cutting finality to her voice.
I sucked in a sharp breath as my hand flew to my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I spoke through a trembling breath. Did Alessia think this would happen with me? That I’d murder people? Maybe I was angry right now, but I’d never use my powers to kill.
My cat’s audible sigh resonated in my skull. It was hundreds of years ago. I’ve learned my lesson since then.
“You mean you are hundreds of years old?” I gasped.
Her tail flicked again as she rubbed her back against my legs. Oh, my spirit is several hundred years old, but not my body.
“So that saying about cats having nine lives?” I asked.
Alessia looked up at me with a touch of humor in her slitted crystal eyes. Is an understatement. I’ve had far more than nine.
I couldn’t help but smile down at my cat. “Cool.”
So why have you been so angry, little witch?
I shrugged. “A lot of reasons.”
Let me guess, she said wryly. You’re all alone with nobody who understands you.
I straightened and looked down at her while nodding. “Exactly!” It was so nice to speak to someone, or some cat, who finally understood me.
Only not exactly. You’re not alone. You have me. Alessia scrunched her nose before lengthening her spine across my legs. By the way, scratch my belly when you are finished with my ears. You’ve never had a cat before, have you?
I gaped at her for a long moment, before shaking my head. “No.”
Well, you’ve got a lot to learn.<
br />
Despite the fact that my life sucked and I was totally feeling the effects of my PMS, I couldn’t help but laugh at my familiar.
Chapter Fifteen
AJ
When I woke up the next morning, I was floored by all that had happened.
How crazy was it? Just a month ago, I was starting high school back home in Greenwood. All I‘d cared about were sports and looking cool. I mean seriously, I’d thought it was the end of the world Sophie hadn’t ridden to school with my brother and me.
Now I was practicing witchcraft every day. I had a new group of friends where both me and Krysta felt needed and wanted, where the six of us worked together so well. We had decided to take a day off, and planned on doing the ritual tomorrow evening.
I rolled over on my side and contemplated staying in bed. I hadn’t dreamed about the girl, so going back to sleep would have been ideal.
Cemi lay next to me, her claws kneading contentedly in the covers as her head rested on my pillow.
“Good morning.” I yawned.
Good morning.
I froze, staring at my cat. She purred benignly, one paw snaking across to start kneading my hand.
“Did you just talk?” I whispered, feeling like a crazy person for even thinking it. The voice had been low and sultry. Knowing.
Not exactly what I’d expected.
“Cemi?”
She just closed her eyes.
“Ugh.” I huffed and rolled onto my back.
So. Weird.
***
The kitchen was empty, but I followed the smell of Earl Grey tea to the living room and found Krysta staring out the window with Sif perched on her shoulder.
“Your cat is a parrot?”
“She thinks so.” Krysta grinned.
I sank to the couch, still in the sweats I’d slept in. Krysta had at least thrown on a wrinkled skirt and T-shirt.
“Did you dream of her?” she asked me, sipping her tea.
I shook my head. “Of course not. Murphy’s law.”
“You can take a nap later.”
“No, probably not.” I sighed. “It’s gonna be a long day. Aunt B said—”
