10. Natalia

The witches'eyes light up, and Raven's temper tamps, and the electricity at the end of her fingernails begins to dissipate as Lucianna speaks. Raven nods. "I know exactly where you're going with this. The help we seek is in the one who either chooses to give it to us or not, allows us to use its power or not, allows spells to be cast or removes them as we ask."

Lucianna nods, and Willow and Raven begin rubbing their stones. "Rub your stone too, Madria. You may not think you're a real witch, but all the signs are there. Whether you think you are or not, Mother Earth thinks you are. She is the authority on these things. Aunt Devora!!!" she calls, watching for signs of her infuriating aunt to show up while Descallia keeps his jaw locked in silence until on the third call for her, the long-haired witch appears.

Her image in all of their stones at the same time is disconcerting, but it does not seem to faze Lucianna at all. "We need your help, Devora. You assured us you were not siding with the rogues, but yet, they know things they can't possibly know, and have been able to drain my powers of sight, along with the strength of the ladies' stones. All signs point to you helping us. Destiny would not have coupled our masters with your witches if not the case."

The angry witch watches us as we listen, absorbing the scene around the table and cackling. "So, you don't outright accuse me, but that's what this is nonetheless?" She cackles so loud that the ladies suck in a breath, probably, like me, afraid of what curse or spell she may throw.

One minute looking this way, the other looking that way, all the while electricity flows from her fingertips and light flashes from her eyes, keeping me riveted to my seat. Nothing about my world, even my brothers' world at the scariest of times could have prepared me for this.

My heart beats fast, so fast I think it's going to plunge right out of my chest, but Oradea reaches under the table and takes my hand, rubbing circles in my palm with the tip of a finger, focusing all my energy and pent-up anxiety on that little movement, calming me with his touch, as the broom-riding biddy continues her rant.