Page 19 of Blood Match
I sag a little, my mind reeling. “This can’t be happening,” I mutter. “Not tonight. Not on top of everything else.”
“On top of everything else?”
“Quiet! I wasn’t talking to you!” Shit. Can he hear everything I’m thinking? “Get! Out! Of. My Head!” I half yell.
“With pleasure!”
And just like that, I feel his presence fade from my mind. The sudden silence is almost deafening.
I sway there for a moment, trying to process what just happened. Part of me wants to believe it was all in my mind, a stress-induced hallucination. But I can still hear the echo of his voice.
A gentle knock on my cottage door startles me out of my thoughts. “Rowan?” It’s my mother’s voice, tight with worry. “Is everything alright, darling?”
“Um…yes…yes, Mom.”
“We’re ready to start. Are you coming up to the house?”
Reality crashes back in, and I remember why I’m dressed up, why my family is gathered. The crystal necklace feels heavier than ever against my skin.
“I’ll be right there,” I call back, my voice steadier than I feel. Heading out of my bedroom, I head to the front door and open it. Mom is standing on the threshold. My door is never locked, but she never comes in without checking first. My parents are determined to give me my space. Unlike the asshole who’s set up camp in my brain.
My mother smiles as she sees me. “You look beautiful, darling.”
I smile back wanly, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “Thanks.” I don’t really believe her. Kara and Mia were always the beautiful ones, inheriting Mom’s classic features and Dad’s startling green eyes. I guess that’s one thing we share – although mine are usually hidden by a pair of glasses that I wouldn’t need if I could use magic to repair my vision like any other self-respecting witch.
“Come along.” Mom tugs my hand through the crook of her elbow and leads me up the path to the house.
I follow Mom obediently, trying to push the bizarre mental intrusion out of my mind. Now isn’t the time for…whatever that was. Tonight is about Mia.
The family gathers silently in the living room. Dad’s eyes are red-rimmed, and Kara looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Even Gran seems older somehow, the weight of loss evident in the slump of her shoulders. We don’t speak as we file out to the car.
The drive to the sacred grove is tense and quiet. I stare out the window, watching the familiar scenery blur by. When we can’t drive any further, we continue on foot, following the winding path deep into the forest. The sound of our footsteps on the fallen leaves seems unnaturally loud in the stillness.
As we emerge into the clearing, my breath catches.
It’s lovely.
Kara and Mom have outdone themselves. The grove is transformed, bathed in soft, shimmering light. Delicate lanterns float among the trees, and a circle of luminous stones marks the ritual space. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
Other witches are already gathering, their faces solemn yet kind. The air thrums with suppressed magic and shared grief. I’m surprised by how many have come to honor Mia. But then, why wouldn’t they? She was everything a witch should be.
“Rowan?” A gentle hand touches my arm. It’s Marina Tidecaller, a coven leader and an elder in the Coven Conclave. Her eyes are misty as she pulls me into a hug. “Oh, sweetheart. Mia was such a bright light. We’ll all miss her terribly.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As Marina moves on to console my parents, others approach. They speak of Mia’s kindness, her skill with spells, the way she could make flowers bloom with just a smile. Each remembrance is a bittersweet reminder of everything Mia was – everything I’m not.
The High Priestess – Seraphina Moonshadow – steps into the center of our circle, pale robes almost glowing. Having her here is a reminder of how important my sister was to our community.
Her presence commands a hush over the gathered witches. I feel a lump forming in my throat as I take my place in the circle between Mom and Kara, our hands linked.
Seraphina’s voice rises, clear and strong in the night air. “We gather here, under the watchful eyes of the stars, to honor our beloved Mia Blackwood.”
A collective shiver runs through the circle. I squeeze Mom’s hand tighter, feeling her tremble beside me.
“As we begin this Starlight Vigil,” Seraphina continues, “let us remember Mia’s light, her laughter, her love. May our memories of her shine as brightly as the stars above.”
We all raise our crystals together, the facets catching the moonlight. The air grows thick with magic, a gentle hum that vibrates through my bones. For once, even I can feel it clearly.
I can feel the stars!