Double-Sided Witch (Covencraft Book 3) (38 page)

“Listen, Possum, I just popped by to remind you how near and dear we are. We’ve shared things, you and I.
I’ve
disfigured people,
you’ve
disfigured people. I was there when you made that witch gouge out his own eye and then you almost lost your heart to a demon. Those were good times,” he said fondly. Paris cringed at his tone, hating that he had his back facing Seth but not able to turn around. “So, now that you’re getting more popular and moving on up, I just want to remind you of our bond.”

“Our what?” Jade said, her voice going up an octave at the end.

“Our fellowship, our affiliation. Our
tendre
.”

Paris felt a stronger pull toward the front door, his feet moving again even as he tried to remain still.

“Jade,” he repeated. “I have to answer the door.”

“What?” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her look him up and down, see her frown. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to answer the door,” he said again, leaving the kitchen and heading back toward the front of the cottage. He heard her follow him and felt grateful.

“Go away, Seth,” Jade called back to the kitchen. “I’m busy.” She followed Paris’ wooden steps as he kept moving forward.

“Should I be ready to fight? Bruce, are we fighting?”

Bruce was already at the front door, tail swishing back and forth. His collar was still up, but he wasn’t spitting. Paris wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Remember all we’ve shared!” Seth called out. “Don’t be swayed by a pretty face and a tragic back-story!”

“Get bent!” Jade shouted, Paris felt her hand grab his elbow, felt her magic rush through him and although it lessened the heavy tug in his chest, he couldn’t stop. Her magic was like fire in his veins - burning through his being hot and quick. It collided with the magic pulling at him and there was a whip crack backlash from the unknown magic - hard and vicious against Jade’s power. Her feet stumbled and her fingers tightened on his elbow. Jade poured more power into him. He’d never felt such power before. He had no idea this was what her magic truly felt like - molten and thick. As powerful as she was, though, she was only brute force. The other magic was methodical, calm and calculated. He could feel it pushing back against Jade’s power and the response surging through him from Jade - all power and no finesse. It made his stomach clench.

“Stop. You can’t help just by forcing it. Not by sheer strength.” Jade was a demolition force against a lightening storm - powerful but ineffective against such an onslaught.

“Sorry.” Jade’s voice was quiet and although her magic stopped rushing through him, she didn’t take her hand from his elbow, keeping pace with him. She kept a low-level stream pulsing into him, not trying to stop the magic compelling him, but merely making its presence known to the unknown witch. Her magic seemed to say, ‘I’m still here and that won’t change.’

Paris was at the foyer now, crossing the tile floor, his hand reaching out toward the front door. Her fingers tightened around his elbow once, before sliding up his arm and resting on his shoulder. Her magic was a warm beat in his veins. She stepped close to him, her face next to his, although he couldn’t make his head turn to look at her. “Should I get some more Counter-Magic Agents, or call a priest or stop you from answering the door?”

“I don’t know. Someone wants me to answer the door.” Paris cocked his head, feeing the magic that was compelling him. “It feels familiar… but impossible.”

“Impossible how?” Jade asked, her voice wary.

“It feels like my mother’s magic.”

The look on Jade’s face and how her countenance went grey made his stomach turn over.

“Oh, shit. Remember that thing I needed to tell you?”

Paris remembered; it was why they were meeting - to discuss it. “Yes, of course.” His hand was on the door handle, turning it, pulling the door open. A woman stood before him in a dark cloak, the hood of it obscuring her face. She reached up and drew the hood back, exposing her countenance.

“Hello, my dear.”

Standing in front of him was his mother. But that was impossible. She was dead. Dead for over fifteen years. Dead and gone, leaving the Coven to him. And yet it was her. Her face was more lined, but her hair was still dark, her bone structure impressive, her posture perfect, as always. Her magic embraced him like an old, familiar blanket, wrapping around him, surrounding him in the scent of vanilla, sage and mint.

With a touch of licorice.

“She’s the Sparrow Lady,” Jade said, her fingers tightening on his shoulder, her other hand coming up to rest against the center of his back, as though he needed bracing and she could give him strength.

“Mother.”

AUTHOR BIO

Margarita loves the art, creativity and romanticism of storytelling. Sometimes, however, the act of putting pen to paper proves challenging. She works to develop genuine, relatable characters which grow in the hearts of her readers. From that foundation, the stories flourish into a warm friend.

She enjoys pursuits which blur the lines between the analytical and creative sides of her brain. This includes her day job in electronic data management, where she uses her creativity to solve logical problems, and also her lessons learning to play the cello, where she finds beauty in the structure of music and the instrument. She believes there is a place for both logic and imagination to work together. When they do, the results are magical.

The ‘label’ she identifies most with is ‘storyteller.’ According to Wikipedia, storytelling is the conveying of events in words, and images, often by improvisation or embellishment. It seems to fit pretty well with how she feels about her work.

At
www.margaritagakis.com
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