Prologue

The flames were so pretty dancingall around her. Mesmerizing too. The young girl hugged her knees and rocked as they flickered, keeping her warm—a good thing since they'd long burned away her clothes.

As she basked in the heat that didn't singe her skin, one word kept whispering around her, as if the flames themselves spoke.

Forget.

Forget.

Forget.

Forget what?

The word repeated, over and over again, growing fainter and fainter as the fire ran out of things to burn.

The young girl shivered as her skin, exposed to the night air, lost its cocoon of warmth. Only her bum remained comfortable sitting atop the hot coals.

She slept until she was woken by a shout.

"There's someone over here!" A crunch of boots opened her eyes, and she beheld a fireman wearing a helmet that covered his whole head. He shouted, "Holy mother earth, it's a child sitting in the coals. Someone call the CA. I think she's one of theirs."

The man didn't come any closer but he did crouch. "Hey, little girl. What are you doing here?"

She cocked her head but didn't reply because she didn't know.

"Do you have a name? I'm Dennis."

Her mouth opened—Forget. Forget. Forget.—She struggled against the whispery voice in her head to whisper, "Marissa."

The only thing she could remember. That, and her age.

How old are you? She almost said I don't know, only to see her hand whip up flexing all of its fingers and her thumb.

Age and name. The only things she remembered despite how many times she was questioned or how many people with mellow voices asked. One of them even had her hold a doll and said, "Who's your doll's mommy? Does she have a name?"

Her reply? Dolls aren't real.

Not to mention, she might only be five, but she knew what they tried to do. They just wouldn't believe her when Marissa said she didn't know.

It didn't help that no one ever came forth to claim her. Her DNA never matched anything on file.

That little girl grew up never knowing her roots, although the fact she inherited magic didn't come as a surprise, given how they found her. Her magic, while present, didn't get a boost until the goddess Hekate accepted her application to be her disciple. All the most powerful witches had a god benefactor. The nicer ones chose Mother Earth. The mean ones worshipped the devil.

Hekate sat somewhere in between. A powerful being who specialized in magic but only rarely interacted with the world or her followers, although she answered when Marissa asked, Do you know where I came from? The goddess replied, Great care was taken to hide your origin.

Great care by who?

Decades later, the woman still wondered.