Chapter 12

12

LECTURE NOTES FROM PRINCIPLES OF WITCHHOOD:

Neglecting your Summoning will lead to death by asphyxiation. The air serves one purpose—to guide you to your powers. Similar to a serpent, it will wrap itself around you and pull. If you do not abide, you die.

T hessa’s blood was thrumming, urging her to wake. The pang of panic had been a familiar echo in her body, however tonight felt different. The feeling of serpents encircling her limbs accompanied the buzzing in her veins.

Thessa jerked upright and whipped her linens off. Instead of shimmering scales, or hissing creatures, darkness swirled around her lower legs. It was an opaque, yet airy substance, and black as the pinpoints of her eyes.

As she covered her mouth to silently scream, it crept higher, trying to push her out of bed .

Thessa dropped her hands and whispered, “You can’t be serious.”

Inky tendrils followed her as she tiptoed across the moonlit room.

Leora was still in the midst of her mead and mood-bending slumber. Thessa thought about waking her, but it didn’t feel right. None of it had felt right. Her Summoning was happening in the middle of the night.

She pulled open the massive doors to the wardrobe, grabbed her boots, and slid them on. Peering down at her sleeping tunic, she tugged at the fabric. It outlined the shape of her breasts and exposed her upper thighs. She’d worn the same one when Kellan had come to her chamber back at CSA, begging for a goodbye . Ridding the thought of his searing gaze upon her skin, she swung her cloak around her shoulders and buttoned it up.

The air was circling her hips now, like a belt. She watched a thread escape, latching onto her windowsill. A moment later, it began tugging.

“Hades,” she swore under her breath.

Mustering some slack from her tether, Thessa managed to reach for her satchel, looping it across her chest.

At the windowsill, she cursed up at the Shadow Moon before ducking out. Thessa descended the wooden trellis of the townhouse, freeing her cloak from catching vines along the way.

On land, the black air churned, encouraging her onward.

Thessa put on her hood and moved. “A Night Summoning?” she mumbled to herself.

Witches were called upon by the goddess during the day, so this had to be some full moon nonsense.

On the Shadow Moon you will know.

What she knew was Summonings shouldn’t happen at night, and there’d never been any mention of this color.

Thessa was led beyond the residential area and into the heart of town. Most taverns in Mabelton remained open until the sun returned, which seemed to bother her guide. As the noise set in and the streets came alive, it was as if her ink ran dry; the black sheen disappeared.

She let out a breath, relieved a bit, though glad it was still pulling her along.

Approaching a strip of shops and taverns, Thessa kept her head down and hood covering her features. Other than warmth in the winter, privacy was the one thing she liked about her cloak. She ignored the late-night festivities and pressed on.

It wasn’t much longer until the smell of ash struck her. She wished to turn back, but the thrumming in her veins intensified, as if to say, you’re almost there .

A few steps later, it stopped her. She looked up to see the Mabelton Library, seated among a sea of soot. Nothing remained of the library greens, but char.

Her escorting wind swirled away from her, and toward the entry. It may be translucent now, but it left a flurry of ash in its wake. When the doors to the library groaned open, Thessa grinned.

Grimacing, she struck her flint once, twice, three times …

Forget it, too complicated.

Shoving the tinderbox back in her satchel, she squinted for a better view. Moonlight streamed into the library, casting eerie shadows through the stained-glass windows. Thanks to the tin roof, the interior had been unscathed by flames, saving loads of books. There were about a dozen shelves, a long desk spanning the back wall, and several round tables set in the middle of the space.

Thessa breathed in the stale, musty air and pivoted left, strolling down the first aisle. She thought about Leora’s gift, glowing for her. Thessa hadn’t been so lucky. She paced up one dark aisle of books and down another.

It wasn’t until she reached the final shelf that the thrumming in her veins reignited.She swept her fingertips along the roughened spines, desperate for a clue. Every touch felt like she was getting closer. Then, like the force of a lodestone, her fingers halted.

Thessa pulled the black, leather-bound tome free, coughing as dust bloomed around her. It was very old. She swiped some grime away, observing what she could. There was a golden triple moon inked on the cover, surrounded by intricately carved borders.

As the buzzing in her veins reached a crescendo, her magic burst to life.

“No, no, no.”

Her fingertips didn’t shift into Celestial white, Botanical green, or Elemental blue. They were pitch black.

Thessa wasn’t a witch at all; she was a demon.