5. Daisy

CHAPTER 5

Daisy

P etra checks in multiple times over the next day to make sure that Daisy doesn't want to change her mind. But Daisy, still filled with anger at her parents, ignores the multiple texts and phone calls.

She goes to work and comes home. That's it.

As the deadline for a potential visit nears, she finally replies to Petra.

Daisy

Hey

Thanks for checking in. I'm okay.

Or I will be. I need some time. I'm not going to see them. It's not worth it.

Talk soon

She knows it's a dick move, but she doesn't want to see the flood of messages Petra will send back in response, so she turns off her phone. She'll deal with it tomorrow.

She reaches over, turns out the light on her nightstand, and rolls over in bed as she pulls the covers up to her chin. She'd prefer to hide under the covers and refuse to come out until her life sorts itself out, but that's not an option. Instead, thankful that she has a job primarily working nights, she finds a comfortable position in bed and sleeps the day away.

When she wakes, the sun is setting, and her room is filled with a golden glow. She stretches her arms above her head and groans, blinking her eyes to bring the world back into focus. Reaching over and turning her phone back on, she checks the time and grumbles audibly; she has an hour before she needs to be at work. Reluctantly, she pushes herself out of bed, showers, and dresses for her shift.

She opens her front door to leave and nearly faceplants when her foot catches on a package. Cursing to the empty street, she picks up the brown paper-wrapped item. It's heavy in her hands, and she can feel it thrumming against her touch.

Fuck. This thing is likely cursed, and I have no ability to defend myself.

Awkwardly standing on her front step, trying to decide what to do with this cursed item, she finds her power attempting to surge inside her like lightning collecting under her skin, readying to strike.

Interesting.

In response to her ever-growing sour mood and general anger, her power has been essentially dead for weeks, refusing to respond to even the simplest of commands. With her latent magic collecting under her skin, she sets the package down. She examines it, lifting it, flipping it, and checking for any indication of malicious intent. Satisfied there are no markings indicating someone is trying to harm her, she unties the string wrapped around it and tears open a corner of the paper. Waiting a second to ensure nothing will burst out at her, she continues, shedding the package of its paper covering.

What is before her can't be true. It's not possible.

Daisy stares down at the aged, leather-bound book, feeling the weight of it settle into her. She runs the tips of her fingers along the family crest on the cover, feeling the wear and wrinkles left from repeated use over who knows how many decades or centuries. The power within it pulls at hers.

Her family's grimoire.

Left on her front step, an offering to her from someone. But how is this even possible? Tradition says it must be passed down from the matriarch of the family when they decide the next witch in line is ready. Yet, her matriarch—well, former matriarch now, thanks to the memory wipe—now has no knowledge of what this is, nor of Daisy. Her thoughts race. How does she now have the grimoire, and who does she have to thank? She lifts the heavy tome, pulling the paper wrap from underneath, checking again for any indication of who the sender is, but there's nothing there.

Remembering that she needs to be at work in approximately three minutes, she opens her door, places the grimoire on the entry table, and departs. She'll be a few minutes late, but it helps being friends with the boss. On her way, she sends a text to Petra.

Hey lady.

Do you happen to know anything about the package left at my front door?

Seconds later, she sees the three dots and, shortly after, Petra's response.

No, sorry.

What was this mysterious package?

Was it safe?

Are you hurt?

Daisy sighs. She should have expected the concerned response.

I'm okay.

Someone left my family grimoire on my front step. Didn't know if it was you.

What?

How?

Clearly not me.

Where did it come from?

I don't know. No indicators of the sender.

Anyway, I'm about to start work and already running late. We can talk more tomorrow.

Okay.

Let me know if you need my help at all.

Will do.

Daisy puts her phone in her back pocket as she steps behind the bar. She picks up her apron from a hook and ties it around her waist. Taking three deep breaths, she does her best to push the mystery of the grimoire from her mind and takes the first order of the night.