Chapter 2

PRESENT DAY

M y heels click along the cobblestone streets as me and my two best friends make our way to one of our favorite local bars. As I hit one of the ancient stones, my heel cracks and I curse.

Looking around, seeing no humans nearby, I pull out my wand and use a repairing incantation to fix my shoe.

Being a witch definitely has its perks. Scratch that, being a witch is fucking everything and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Alright, tuck that thing away,” Ember says, pushing at my wand as I shove it into my purse.

I can do magic without it, but having a conduit makes things a hell of a lot easier. We’re right outside the bar as Iris grins and hands us each a purple vial.

“What is it?” I ask, while Ember takes the cap off and chugs it back without a care in the world. Her reddish blonde hair falls back and her freckled nose crinkles from the taste.

That’s always been our dynamic, I suppose. Ember is always willing to take risks, Iris is the calculative one, and I’m the more cautious one.

Since the moment my grand-mère brought me into the coven, Iris, Ember, and I have been inseparable. I never had girlfriends before, and even though they were two years younger than me, we instantly connected. My grand-mère told me female relationships are the basis of a strong coven, and as usual, she was right.

We’re forever bonded by magic and kinship, and I can’t imagine life any other way. I don’t know who I would be without magic or without my coven; they mean everything to me. But especially Ember and Iris. I don’t think there’s a way to describe how much I love them. It’s beyond friendship or blood relation, it’s an intrinsic bond that’s hard to explain.

“It’s a hangover potion I brewed this morning,” Iris says, and I swallow the purple potion down with a wince. “Yeah, I’m working on the flavors.”

“Fuck, it’s crowded,” Ember says as we walk out to the back patio.

Iris pulls her wand out behind her purse, her lips moving, but I can’t hear the spell. I smile as I watch a five-top suddenly decide they need to leave immediately.

Magic never ceases to amaze me.

“Better not let Aster find out you’re using magic in front of the humans,” Ember says sarcastically.

“What the High Priestess doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” I say as I wave down a bartender who takes our drink order.

“Keeping secrets from the old witch?” Iris says with an arched brow. She looks beautiful tonight, wearing a daisy yellow dress that contrasts her unblemished umber skin. Her long, thin braids hang over her shoulder, and she’s wearing winged eyeliner sharp enough to kill over her long, thick eyelashes.

“She doesn’t need to know my every movement,” I say as my two friends glare at me. “I mean, I did finally move out.”

They both share a look before looking back at me. “How has it been, living there?” Ember asks softly.

By there, they mean the abandoned mansion my mother left me. The mother that I can’t talk about to my grand-mère or the coven; everyone acts like she never existed. My grand-mère swears she’s still alive, that she would feel it if she passed, which only saddens and confuses me more.

I’ve spent so long searching for answers and continually come up with dead ends. Why would she abandon me? Not only that, why would she have taken me away from my coven and suppressed my magic for sixteen years? The only answer I’ve ever gotten from my grand-mère is that my mom wasn’t mentally well before she ran away. I can see the pain on my grandmother’s face everytime I bring her up, so I’ve stopped asking. The coven is all I need, they’re my family. Yet… there’s still a nagging feeling of loss I can’t seem to shake.

I had hoped living in my mother’s home would give me answers. But all it’s given me is a major magical workout to fix the six thousand square foot dump.

“It’s okay,” I answer, and Iris glares at me. “Okay, so it’s a little lonely, but I needed my own space. Aster has been breathing down my neck about being her protégé and the next steps for the coven. At least I can be myself and feel like every spell I cast isn’t being over analyzed. Plus, Walter likes killing the bugs.”

They both give me sympathetic nods. They know how hovering the High Priestess can be, and they aren’t even her heir.

Ember fans herself with a drink menu and glances around the bar. “Well, don’t worry about that tonight. We’re celebrating your birthday. Maybe we can find you some hot human to take back to your creepy mansion and have your way with them.”

“I’m off men for the foreseeable future. Thank you very much.”

“I would be too, after Paul,” Iris mumbles under her breath. I went on one date with him, and had to compel him to forget me after the date. It seems a relationship, or even a bit of fun, isn’t in my future. When you reach a certain age it’s embarrassing to bring up the fact I still haven’t been physical with anyone.

“What’s even the point, anyway? Witches don’t marry, we have our coven, that’s all we need,” I reply. The line has been engraved in me since the day Grand-mère brought me home from Mander’s Academy for the Highly Gifted and Unhoused.

“To come, Violet. That’s the point,” Ember says, glancing around the bar. “Have you ever done it with a vampire?” she asks, and Iris and I both blink at her. “What? The blood thing is kind of hot. And they’re always ready to go.”

“If Aster found out,” Iris says.

“She won’t find out. Plus, it’s not like I’m going to fall for a vampire. But we can have a little fun. I mean we all exist, those old hags had to have gotten it in at least a few times,” Ember says and I laugh.

But she’s not wrong.

The coven is for female witches. If a witch wants to have a baby, well, they do what they have to do to conceive. But in all my years with the Celestial Coven, I’ve never seen a witch marry or get into a serious relationship. It’s just not the way things are done.

“Even Aster has to realize we can have a little fun,” Iris says.

“I’m not sure dear old Grand-mère knows what fun is,” I say, before clamping a hand over my mouth.

“Let’s take some shots to that,” Ember says, which makes me incredibly thankful for Iris’ potion.

I’m waiting in the never ending line for the bathroom with Iris. Ember has grabbed some unsuspecting mortal man to dance with as I lean against the wall and push a sticky piece of hair off my face.

Even though it’s supposed to be autumn, the humid air is thick, like a blanket over the outdoor bar. The cicadas are screaming their heads off, competing with the live band playing in the corner.

“Aw fuck,” Iris hisses.

“What?”

“Moon Walker Pack, twelve o’clock,” she says, using her head to point in the direction of said shifters.

I take a quick glance and sure enough, Maddox, Kit, and Selma are walking into the outdoor space like they own it.

Tonight can go two ways. One; we don’t interact with any of them and we go about our night enjoying the festivities. Two; everything is about to go to shit.

Just my birthday luck, it appears that it’s going to be the latter as Kit approaches us. She’s tall, about six feet, with dirty blonde hair and an irritated look on her face. She’s pretty, but she isn’t a witch, she’s a shifter. Shifters and Witches don’t mix, especially not in this town.

I didn’t understand the animosity when I first got here, but boy, do I understand it now. The origins of the feud are conflicting, but the main story I hear is that the witch created the first shifter as a curse, and ever since then there’s been nothing but hatred between the Moon Walker Pack and the Celestial Coven.

Above all, both of us have a strong sense of family, and for generations we’ve hated each other, and I don’t see that changing any time soon.

“Enjoy your last night here,” she says, leaning against the wall casually.

“Last time I checked, there weren’t any divisions on the mortal lands,” I say, eyeing her up and down like she’s beneath me.

“Haven’t you heard?” Kit asks, looking at Iris and I like we’re beneath her station. “There’s a new Alpha in town.”

Iris rolls her eyes. “How many pack leaders have you had now? Ten in the last twenty years?”

“Yet you both still have the same old hag in charge,” Kit sneers.

My hand is on my wand before I can even think as I point it at her chest. She has a whole half of a foot in height over me as she glances down at me like I’m gum on the bottom of her shoe.

“You do not talk about the High Priestess,” I warn her.

She smiles, as Iris shoves my hand down to put my wand away.

“She’s not worth it,” Iris whispers, shoving the wolf shifter’s arm away. Iris’ eyes flash pale white for only a short moment before her breath hitches and she’s ushering me away. “We need to find Ember and get the fuck out of here, now.”

“Enjoy your time before the witch hunt,” Kit says, waving us off with her fingers.

“What the fuck was that?” I complain as Iris drags me along. “Iris, slow down.”

She doesn’t slow down, her bright pink nails digging into my arm as she finds Ember grinding on some man, before grabbing her by the back of her dress.

“What the hell?” Ember complains as Iris basically drags us both out of the bar.

“What is it?” I ask as Iris puts the back of her hand against her forehead.

“I had a vision,” Iris says, she doesn’t get them often.

Her grandmother is a prolific seer, probably the most profound the coven has ever had, while Iris’ gift lies more with potions. But on rare occasions, it seems she holds the same ability as her grandmother.

We walk away from the bar, the crowd and band noise slowly dissipating.

“We had to leave a night of fun because you had a vision?” Ember complains, feeling totally cock blocked. Sometimes I wish I were more like Ember, that I could enjoy life more easily and not live in my head constantly.

“No, we had to leave because this one took out her wand and pointed at that shifter bitch who was trying to start shit,” Iris says, pointing at me.

“Like you wouldn’t have done the same if she was talking about your grandmother.”

Iris waves me off as she fans herself.

“What was the vision?” Ember asks.

“It’s not important,” Iris replies.

I stop in the middle of the street and grab Iris’ wrist. It’s not like us to keep secrets. Well, at least not between the three of us.

“What was it?” I ask.

She swallows and shakes her head. “It could mean anything.”

“Iris.”

She glances at Ember and then back at me.

“You were in a white dress in the jowls of a dark brown wolf.”

Ember gasps. “Like being eaten? I heard that’s where this feud started, a wolf killed a witch.”

“It didn’t feel sinister,” Iris says and my brows furrow.

“What did it feel like?”

Iris shakes her head.

“It could mean anything, Violet. The wolf symbolizes so many things; spirituality, adaptability. Maybe it has something to do with your birthday being transformative. I don’t think we should read into it.”

But Iris looks scared, and Iris is never scared.

“The vision hit you when you touched Kit,” I remind her. “Do I need to be worried about her?”

Iris swallows. “I think Kit is the least of our problems.”