Everwild (The Healer Series, #1) (2 page)

Willow laughed at her particularly
rambunctious sister as Pandora waved her hands in the air. A breeze
whipped around the room and seconds later, she felt a light tap on
her hip and turned to see her broomstick hovering waist high at her
side, only…wait, this wasn’t her broomstick! Willow’s broomstick
was long, a light brown color, and made from the bark of an Oak
tree. The broom before her was short, (built for speed), and a
slick, ebony black. This was nothing like her broom! Taking a
closer look, she gasped realizing that it was the newest Caliber
300! Smooth and shiny, it had Willow’s name written in an intricate
silver script along the length of it. What was this? What was going
on?

“Happy Birthday Willow Rose!” the sisters
said in unison, all smiling from ear to ear, (even Pandora).

“Oh, wow!” She whispered at a loss for words.
Timidly, Willow touched the broomstick as if it would disappear.
This wasn’t real. She must be imagining things. She touched it
again. Nope. It was definitely real. Just then, the words she lost
earlier came flooding back. “I absolutely love it! I can’t believe
you all did this for me! I don’t even know what to say! Thank you!
Thank you! Thank you! You guys are the best sisters ever!” Willow
went to each one of them and gave them a big hug. “You didn’t have
to--”

“We know,” Pandora said appearing bored. “But
you’re our sister.” She shrugged and grabbed her broomstick heading
out the door briskly.

Willow watched her leave and then turned to
the others. “She loves when I get sappy on her.” She quickly wiped
happy tears away from her eyes. Portia-Anna laughed and put her arm
around Willow’s shoulder as they both followed Pertussia into the
yard.

“You know this was all my idea, right?” she
whispered in her ear. “You know how Pandora is with gifts. Stingy,
that one,” she crinkled her nose. Her violet eyes lit with
mischief. Willow didn’t know how she convinced Pandora to buy a new
broomstick for her, as all the Seconds still had ancient looking
flying devices, and broomsticks were highly expensive in the
magical world, but she was beyond grateful.

“Remind me to ask you later,” Willow
responded as they caught up to the others. Portia-Anna winked.

The black gate to the manor house was
directly in front of Willow. The gate surrounded the entire
perimeter of their land. Lush, green grass sprawled all along the
path that led up to the witches’ expansive Victorian manor. They
owned several gardens with all their favorite flowers and herbs for
potions. Willow had a small, designated section of rose bushes that
she liked to go to think, tend, and smell her favorite flower:
brilliant, stark white roses. The gate was always locked, and a
strong enchantment protected the grounds from sky intruders.

The witches of Southwick Manor lived in the
middle of the forest, away from town. It was peaceful, being
bordered by Evergreen and deciduous trees. They could have as much
land as they desired out away from the city and highways. Humans
never knew the place existed, and they barely received visitors,
unless they were of magical origin. But even werewolves, vampires,
and the Fey tended to stay away from the house. It was most likely
Pandora’s doing. Her magic was the strongest in the Coven, and
somehow, the other dark beings of the world sensed the protective
magic and stayed away. Willow never had a reason to fear.

“Mount your brooms,” Pandora directed. “We
make for the city. Follow my lead and watch when I go to land.
Willow,” Pandora narrowed her blue eyes, “No funny business.”

“Me?” She faked innocence and mounted her new
broom. “Whatever do you mean?” Willow bent her knees and kicked off
before Pandora could lecture her further and she flew up in the air
like a rocket, squealing with joy. This broom was fast! Really
fast! She did several flips in the air, swerving and twirling the
broom, going higher and higher, touching the clouds. The sky was a
vast and endless domain. It had no end. She could go wherever she
wanted and--- “Yikes!” She yelled swerving dangerously to the left
as a flock of geese heading south came out of nowhere and nearly
collided into her. The broomstick shook in her hands, but she
slowed down and got it under control. Willow came to a standstill
in the air, kicking her legs and looking down. The ground was but a
speck below her. Way, way below her.

“I meant that!” Pandora said breathlessly
catching up to her. “Be careful! I do not wish to pick up dead bits
of you on the ground if you fall and we can’t save you in
time!”

“Don’t be the grim reaper, Dora,” Willow said
playfully and circled her three times fast. “You know he always
takes the angry, brooding witches first.” What could she say?
Willow knew she was taunting the beast, but this was the best gift
she had ever received. Her birthday was off to a great start.

“Do you want a new dress or not? Because I
don’t have to buy one, you know.”

“Oh, Pandora,” Pertussia said, “Do try to
enjoy yourself, will you dear?”

“For me?” Willow prompted with a slightly
sarcastic smile and flipped upside down watching her.

“Follow me,” Pandora rolled her eyes, her
cloak billowing behind her in the wind. Willow looked at Pertussia
and shrugged, righting herself to follow Pandora. Pertussia and
Portia-Anna flanked her, keeping the vibrant witch in line.
Portia-Anna kept her entertained by talking about all the handsome
warlocks she was hoping would be there.

Willow’s heart beat erratically and uneven at
the mention of her ceremony. The way her sisters talked, this
celebration was a big deal. She didn’t expect a big turn-out
tonight, and Willow really didn’t want people fawning over her like
a celebrity. Many of the other Witch Covens in the area would be
there, as Portia-Anna invited practically all of them, and most of
the Warlock Orders would be there as well. The most powerful Order,
the Emerald Circle, was an elite group of the best magic casters
around. They had several young warlocks, whom Portia-Anna always
tried to talk about, but Willow wasn’t in the mood. The last time
The Emerald Circle came to one of their events, she had a very
nasty argument with the Head Warlock’s son, Declan. Willow and
Declan did not get along, and she really, really hoped he wouldn’t
be there tonight.

“And that Declan, woo,” Portia-Anna
interrupted her thoughts, trying to talk about the very person she
was just thinking, (or trying not to) think about, “if I was
thirty…oh maybe fifty-years younger, oh my, I would be going after
him!” She flipped her purple hair behind her back and winked at
Willow suggestively, “how about it, Willow?”

“Um…no,” She said awkwardly. “I don’t think
so.”

“Well why not?”

“Because he’s an arrogant, egotistical,
son-of-a-”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture,” Portia-Anna
said laughing.

“Can’t you be a little nicer to him, dear?”
Pertussia said joining the conversation. “He is sweet enough to
come to the party for you.”

“He’s only going to be there because of his
father, mister high and mighty Head Warlock Emerson himself,”
Willow said rudely. “He’d never be interested in someone like
me.”

Pertussia gasped. “Don’t say things like
that, dear! You’re a beautiful, brilliant witch! Any warlock would
be lucky to have you.”

“Not to mention he’s so handsome!”
Portia-Anna exclaimed and Willow didn’t say anything in response.
She couldn’t deny her. Declan was downright gorgeous. But, of
course, he knew it and flaunted himself in front of the ladies,
especially of his age, making them think they had a chance with
them, and then breaking their hearts. She knew his personality
type, and tried to stay far, far away. Declan and his preppy group
of warlocks would surely be there, and Willow wasn’t looking
forward to it. Her sisters were sweet, but deep down Willow knew he
had a right to be arrogant. She could never measure up to someone
like Declan Aldridge. He was the whole package wrapped in a big red
shiny bow.

“Give him a chance, dear,” Pertussia
encouraged, but Willow simply couldn’t. Not when he had insulted
her the last time she saw him. Willow recalled his words as if it
were yesterday. They had gotten into an argument over a certain
spell, and they argued and argued until they settled into actually
working it out. Declan got the spell exactly right and managed to
change a black cat to white with green polka dots, and the spell
Willow thought was right didn’t do anything but make the cat keel
over to sleep. Transformations were the first thing a young witch
learns, and she failed miserably. Declan and his friends burst into
laughter, embarrassing her in front of everybody. Declan made fun
of her saying, “Wow, Willow Tree, brains really aren’t everything,
because in your case, they’re nothing.”

He basically called her stupid, and his group
of friends just hooted in laughter, which only increased her
humiliation. Not to mention he called her the nickname she hated.
Willow Tree. Willow Tree? Really? She hated the nickname he dubbed
her even more than she hated his smug grin when he insulted her, so
Willow expertly stomped on his foot and stormed away. He ruined her
whole night, making her question her abilities as a witch. She was
already self-conscious enough as it was about her magic casting
skills.

Pandora began dropping down as they neared
the city. Pulling off before they were spotted, they made their way
to the forest on the outskirts of town. Willow heard the sounds of
busy life in the city. Cars were honking, and people were talking
loudly on cell phones, while others were yelling at each other. The
repugnant smell of exhaust fumes filled the air like a suffocating
gas chamber. Willow knew of another Coven living within the city,
and she felt sorry for them, having to deal with the insane life of
humans and having to constantly conceal their magic. It wasn’t
where she would want to live, but apparently they liked it if they
still lived there. Witches hated to break tradition, and the Coven
that lived in the city had lived there for centuries. They wouldn’t
change their location even though everything around them had
changed.

They climbed off the brooms, hiding them in a
hollowed out tree Pandora made several years ago. No one else knew
of its existence, which kept their traveling devices well
protected. They then entered the city. Of course, Willow was the
only one in normal looking clothes, and she smiled when they
received several shocked stares from humans as they passed them by.
Her sisters looked like they just walked right out of the Middle
Ages in their flowing gowns and cloaks. They especially gaped at
Portia-Anna’s bizarre hair color. Willow, however, blended right
in.

Unfortunately, a Firsts magic was flawed,
almost limited in a way. They couldn’t conjure clothes out of thin
air yet. If that were the case, she wouldn’t have to go
shopping…ever. Willow could make the perfect dress for herself and
be fine. Her sisters could change their clothes at will,
envisioning an outfit that then appeared on their bodies, but they
were still so old school that the gowns they chose to wear were
anything but with the current era. Willow regarded Pandora quietly
as her scarlet dress flowed and hugged her curvaceous figure
perfectly. It must be nice to be a Second.

They stopped at a small shop that looked
promising. The cashier behind the counter regarded them curiously
as they walked around to look at the clothes. Humans could always
sense something amiss with those who wielded magic. It wasn’t dark
magic, as some witches preferred to use, but there was still an
underlying terror of the unknown that humans could sense within
them. It was the kind where they knew something was different, and
labeled them as “weird” or “wrong” just by first appearances.
Witches were always cordial to humans, but humans never cared for
them, judging them accordingly, and knowing something wasn’t quite
right. Nevertheless, witches never exposed themselves to a human.
Nobody wanted a repeat of the Salem witch trials.

Portia-Anna picked up two dresses she found
and held them out. One was super short and kinky; the other was
longer with more flow and fabric. “Okay, Willow,” she said holding
them up for her to see and smiling slyly, “Hot slut or tea party
princess? I myself prefer the black one,” she held up the short
dress and twirled. “You’d be stunning in this.”

“If she were going to a men’s club to flaunt
her body,” Pandora said irritated. “Do you think Hekate would
approve of this for her talisman ceremony, Portia? Do try to use
your intellect.”

“Well someone woke up on the wrong side of
the cobwebs this morning,” Portia-Anna muttered and put the dresses
back.

“Oh, you would look simply perfect in this
dress, pet,” Pertussia said behind her. She pulled out a long silk
dress that was a dark azure blue. In the front, it stopped at the
knees but then grew long in the back forming a small train on the
floor. There was a sweetheart neckline outlined in studded silver
jewels and it was nearly backless. It was Willow’s size, perfect,
and absolutely stunning.

The witches all nodded in consent, even
Pandora was awed by the dress. She purchased it (willingly) for
her, as well as some short satin heels to match, and Willow left
the store in high spirits as she received yet another extravagant
gift for her birthday.

As they headed for the forest once more, a
large, wispy figure approached them. She carried a big orange bag
that matched her bright orange hair. She was short and stout, with
a round, cheerful face. “Pandora! Pertussia! Portia-Anna!” she
called waving wildly, attracting attention towards them. She was
wearing an old fashioned tan dress that didn’t match the vibrant
oranges she wore.

“Dromeda,” Pandora smiled as they clasped
each other’s forearms in greeting. “It’s been a while.”