Myths & Facts

MYTHS & FACTS

D elilah studies the mark on my arm, not appearing at all surprised by the grand revelation of my evil deed. “Is it from Bryant?”

My fingers curl toward my palm. “Yeah. It appeared the morning after the fight.”

Her gentle gaze meets mine. “I hope you’re not expecting me to shout about evil magic users and run screaming from the house. You’ll be disappointed.”

“Well, darn. And I was so looking forward to the screaming.” Relief fills me, though I hadn’t really expected her to pass judgment for my actions where Bryant was concerned .

When I reach for my arm sheath, Delilah takes it and helps me put it on, covering the mark again. “Ginny tried to kill him once.”

My lips part on a shocked breath. The little water witch is so small and kind, she’s the last of our coven I can imagine doing violence. “She did?”

Delilah smooths a finger over the soft leather covering my forearm. “It was when he moved us to the well. We thought he was taking us there to die.”

Her finger moves to my hand, uncurling my fist. “He would feed on us often enough that we couldn’t use our powers against him, but he was distracted, obsessed with a new witch he was hunting.”

My pulse quickens. “Me.”

“The timeline fits.” She traces my lifeline, a jagged thing with branches for all the ways I could have died before now. “He skipped his feeding time on Ginny, and when he dragged us to the well, she tried so hard to summon water, to flood his lungs and drown him before he could throw us into that pit.”

Images flicker across my vision, the woods replacing the kitchen, damp earth and sap filling my nose. Fear heavy in the air as women bound in rope are trudged toward their deaths.

The well, stale water and slime, a burst of desperate movement, bodies tangled on the ground, Bryant gurgling as green water forced its way into his mouth. Then pain and blood, damp coldness, and the clang of a metal door shutting.

He hadn’t intended for that to be their grave, but they couldn’t have known it. The same as I didn’t know they were trapped down there when I made my first attempt to kill Bryant when I drove a stake through his heart.

Delilah’s hand leaves mine, and I snap out of whatever trance I had fallen into, dizziness swamping me as the bright lights of the kitchen replace the vision of the woods.

“Any one of us would have killed him,” Delilah whispers, a fierceness to her tone I’ve never heard before. “By any means possible. You deserve a badge of honor for removing such evil from the world, not that mark.”

“I don’t regret it.” I catch her hand, squeezing it. “If I could go back in time, the only thing I would have changed is that I would have made sure he died the first time.”

She nods, one victim to another, both of us regretting not seeing the end of our tormentor sooner.

When the moment becomes too much for me, I release her and sip my cold hot chocolate. “Anyway, I didn’t show you the mark to dredge up bad times. Ros mentioned earlier there was a story your mom used to tell about how these squiggles are a curse?”

“Ah.” She smiles. “And Rowe, the Great Curse Breaker, wants to know more?”

“Well, I am great.” I swirl the spoon in my cup. “Do you remember the story?”

“Of course. Our mother always liked that one and told it often.” She leans back in her chair, her gaze growing distant as she focuses inward. “Before the current council existed, covens were at the mercy of their high priest or priestess, and they were divided between those who practiced light magic and those who practiced dark.”

I shiver and lean closer.

“The practitioners of dark magic committed terrible acts, using their powers to harm others to feed their own twisted desires,” she continues. “This created a deep rift within the magical community, as the light covens sought to distance themselves from their darker counterparts.”

“Can’t blame them for that. Who wants to be associated with evil, right?”

She dips her head in agreement. “But it wasn’t just a matter of disassociation. The dark covens posed a real threat to the light ones. They would infiltrate their ranks to steal magical knowledge and lure young apprentices to their side through deception and manipulation. They would pose as members of light covens, exploiting their trust to gain access to their secrets. They were skilled at turning people against one another, often using the promise of greater power to corrupt those who were vulnerable.”

“That’s some next-level villainy right there.”

“Unfortunately, it was all too effective.” Her expression turns somber. “Many light covens fell to ruin, their members scattered and/or killed.”

“Damn.” I try to imagine what it would be like to have my coven betray me like that. “So this somehow led to the council forming?”

“Just so.” Delilah’s finger traces the patterns of rain on the wooden tabletop. “If they were to survive, the light covens couldn’t sit back and watch their members fall to darkness. They needed to act, and so they cast a powerful curse designed to mark anyone who used their magic for harmful purposes so that dark witches would bear the symbol of their evil. ”

My stomach churns, and my fingers move to touch the leather sheath that covers the black mark on my skin. “So this all started as some kind of magical scarlet letter?”

“Something along those lines.” Delilah smiles at the analogy before her expression turns somber once again. “The curse served as a warning, revealing the true nature of those who dabbled in the dark arts and acting as a deterrent against malicious use of power. Witches could no longer pretend to be part of the light while slaughtering people under the cover of darkness.”

Unease ripples through me. I can understand why they did it, but they used too broad of a brush in a world that isn’t black and white. “That’s some heavy-duty magical justice right there.”

“Indeed.” Delilah’s eyebrows furrow. “It was a desperate measure.”

“And all the light witches were on board with this curse?”

“Ah, well…” Delilah sighs, sipping her tea. “That’s where things get complicated. You see, the magical community had mixed feelings about the curse. Some viewed it as a necessary safeguard, while others were wary of its implications. ”

I trace the rim of my mug. “Like what?”

“Debates over the ethics of marking individuals, for one,” she explains. “Many questioned whether it was right to brand someone, even if they committed heinous acts. Others worried about the curse’s potential to be misused or misinterpreted.”

I touch my mark. “Like in the matter of self-defense.”

“Just so.” Delilah’s glance drops to my arm. “Which is why, with the curse in place, the light covens knew they needed a more structured system to maintain order and ensure that breaches in magical ethics were addressed. And so, the tribunal was established.”

“Wait, you mean like a magical court?” I ask, the weight of a centuries-old legal system bearing down upon my marked shoulder.

“Exactly,” Delilah affirms. “The tribunal is composed of the highest level of witches from each of the four cardinal directions, representing a balance of power and wisdom. They oversee the covens, enforce magical laws, and address any breaches in magical ethics.”

My brows pinch together. “Do you mean the Trinity Witches? ”

She nods. “Circles within circles of checkpoints, coven leaders apprenticed in covens of their own to stronger witches, rising until the top three of the region are chosen. The Trinity, who answer for all under their jurisdiction.”

Damn, I knew Mel’s moms were important, but not that important. “That’s a lot to put on the shoulders of twelve witches.”

“The responsibilities of the Tribunal were vast. They oversaw the covens within their respective territories and enforced magical laws. They adjudicated disputes, investigated cases of magical misconduct, and ensured those marked had a fair trial. This isn’t part of the myth, by the way,” she adds. “This part is from acknowledged witch history.”

“Wow,” I murmur, daunted by the scope of their duties. “That must have been a lot to handle.”

“Quite.” She stares into the distance, as if seeing the past unfold before her. “But it was crucial to maintaining balance and order within the magical community. Without the Tribunal, chaos would have reigned supreme.”

I shudder at the thought, picturing dark witches running amok, unchecked and unchallenged. The world could have been consumed by darkness if not for the efforts of these magical guardians.

“The burden was too much, though, and other members were brought in to help. The tribunal became the heart of the Paranormal Council, maintaining order and justice within the magical community,” Delilah explains. “They have the final say in whether a marked witch deserves death or to have their powers bound so they can never misuse them again.”

I shudder and glance toward the hall closet where we store our vacuum. I’ve only seen one witch have her powers bound, and it ended in a pile of dust.

I lean back in my chair. “Do you think that’s true? That the mark is a curse and not a natural result of…I don’t know, dirtying the magic well?”

She considers the question. “Magic is not a well, it is a river, and rivers do not judge how their water is used. I do not believe the marks are natural.”

“If it’s a curse, then it can be broken. But it also serves a purpose.” I tap my fingers against my mug. “It’s a subpar curse, though. It’s like using a sledgehammer to put a bobby pin into the wall. Sure, the pin will stick, but there’s too much potential for hitting other targets in the process. ”

Delilah sips her tea. “It is a quandary. Had you killed Bryant with the stake, the same deed would have been done, but you would not now be at risk from the tribunal if your secret gets out. We in your coven would, of course, testify to the atrocities he performed on us and those who did not survive to speak for themselves.”

“You’re part of my coven,” I point out. “Wouldn’t you be biased?”

“It is a risk, to be sure.” She sets her mug aside. “Better not to test those waters.”

If it were just me, I’d be happy to hide in Hartford Cove forever. But the council is already aware of Esme and searching for her, and she and Zane can’t live in my basement forever. “What kind of spell do you think it would take to break a curse like this, hypothetically?”

“It would require a witch with a direct connection to the essence of magic.” Her eyes hold mine. “One who can see what other witches cannot. Someone who could separate what belongs from what does not. It’s not something I or any of the elementals in your coven could do.”

So, an ethereal witch, which works for me.

Delilah reaches out to take my hand. “I would be cautious, though. When weeds have been left to grow in gardens, it’s sometimes impossible to pull one out without also pulling out the plants they’re tangled up in.”

Message received. Don’t go trying to yank it out willy-nilly.

This is going to require some finesse. Something I’m really, really bad at.