Chapter 1

ChapterOne

Today, she became a witch.

A real witch, like her sisters and mother. True, it had taken Thea a little longer than the rest of her family. Her sisters had bled early, but Thea’s body wasn’t normal. And every time she felt horrible about making everyone wait, her mother would remind her that everything happened for a reason.

Hekate looked after the daughters of the moon. If she wanted Thea to endure until she was sixteen for her first blood, then there was a good reason for that.

She’d wanted to bleed for so long, and now everything felt strange. Like someone else was inside her body, or maybe that wasn’t right. She was hyper aware of the area between her legs and the blood that dripped down her thighs. When she’d come into the kitchen, her mother had been so pleased that she’d squawked like the crows that lived around their home. Her sisters had laughed at the expression Thea had made, and both of them had shouted, “Finally!”

And though she should celebrate with them, Thea just felt uncomfortable.

She was sixteen. She shouldn’t feel surprised when her moon blood came. But… Well… Maybe it could have waited for a day other than her birthday.

Her mother had sent her to the stream to wash. Almost as though Máthair had known how much this made her youngest daughter feel strange. Thea didn’t want people to know that she was bleeding. She didn’t want anyone to see her, touch her, or even talk to her.

Sighing, she stooped and scooped handfuls of water. Her long, woolen skirts swung around her legs and got in the way of cleaning, though. Tears of frustration pricked her eyes, and then she couldn’t prevent them from running down her cheeks.

“Stop it, Thea,” she whispered, angrily dashing away the drops. “You’re being a baby.”

The words could have worked if a sudden cramp hadn’t burned through her stomach. Hissing out a long breath, she sat down on the edge of the stream and pressed her hands to her belly.

“If the bleeding came without pain, I might not hate it so much,” she muttered. Or fear it. How was she supposed to find peace in knowing that every month she would have a wound between her legs that refused to heal? Why couldn’t it have just never come?

She laid on her back and flopped an arm over her eyes. The sun was too merry and the feelings inside her were too dark for blue skies. Thea wanted to hide and then maybe everything else would disappear.

An hour passed by the river while she listened to the quiet sounds of nature. The burbling of the brook never changed, and of course it didn’t. There was a deep natural spring that fed the stream near their home. Her family drank clean, fresh water rather than having to boil the seawater on the other side of the ridge.

Something nudged her hand, hard. When Thea sat up, she made eye contact with a bright green snake. She froze, entranced by the yellow eyes and flicking tongue that tasted her scent. The snake nudged her hand one more time, gave her a disappointed look, and then slithered toward the stream.

“Brighid,” she breathed.

The goddess came to those in need. Brighid was the goddess of healing, sometimes, other times of poetry or smithcraft. A woman with many talents and no interest in staying put when others told her to. Thea’s mother adored her.

But she was also the goddess of fertility, and Thea could tell the snake came with a message. Get up. Go home. Stop moping that you’ve become a woman. You knew it would happen, eventually.

“All right,” she muttered, pushing herself upright and dusting her hands off on her skirts. “I’ll stop.”

The snake seemed to nod before it disappeared into the waters and never came back up. Goddesses and their messages, she mused. They were never very clear, but sometimes they were forceful in their opinions.

She wandered toward the small home where her mother and two sisters waited for her. They were all witches, though much more powerful than Thea. Her mother’s ability to manipulate the weather made her a dangerous woman to cross. Her sister, Marigold, conjured plants that grew from nothing. Even barren soil could not deny her magic. Belladonna could heal rotten food with a single touch. They kept the village well fed, adequately stocked, and healthy with their powers.

And Thea?

She sighed and blew at a lock of dark hair that fell in front of her face.

She ate plants.

Perhaps that was oversimplifying a power that might become helpful, but she had yet to find a use for it. On her way to the house, she snapped off a sprig of lavender from her mother’s prized garden and popped it into her mouth. Instantly, all the anxiety and fear of the day disappeared as the herb melted on her tongue.

No matter what plant she devoured, it always melted. It sank into her skin and she used that power to her advantage. They’d discovered the gift when she was a little girl and she had taken a bite out of her mother’s prized sword lilies. The alliums were known to be poisonous, but Thea hadn’t fallen ill. Instead, she’d been much stronger than before. Her mother had made her pick up the stove as a toddler, and then they all realized what her powers were.

But she couldn’t help anyone. She didn’t save villages from a blighted crop with a single wave of her hand. She didn’t make plants grow or bring in the rains during the middle of a drought. Many other witches were inhumanly strong, or capable of so much more.

Thea was the weakest of her family, and that made her fade into the background.

She rounded the corner of their home and unlocked the front gate. Their father had hand built the quaint little farmhouse when he first moved to this area of Waterdown. It was far from the village, but had given his wife plenty of room for her magic and for the gardens that spread out like a spiderweb from the front door.

He’d been given a small gift, just like Thea. Her father gifted homes with a personality. In a sense, he turned inanimate objects into thinking, feeling beings. Not much of a gift. But still, one worth remembering.

The house shifted at her approach. Smoke spewed out of the chimney, and Thea knew that it had put on a pot of tea for her. Their home always did that when it sensed discomfort.

“Thank you,” she said as she walked through the slanted front door. “You always know how to help.”

A deep hum echoed down the hallway and a breeze kicked up to toy with the strands of her hair before disappearing. Their crooked little farmhouse with mismatched windows and doors of every color had soaked up so much magic throughout the years that no magic was too difficult.

The short hallway led into their kitchen, where a cauldron large enough to bathe in bubbled with some dark liquid. Most likely the anise scent coiling out of it was a spell Belladonna was working on. The cast-iron stove on the opposite corner had twin teapots on the top. Steam already rose out of one of them, though the other had recently been added and was yet to boil.

Thea ducked as a sharp knife came careening off a shelf and floated over her head.

“Marigold!” Thea shouted, spinning on her heel. “What did I tell you about summoning knives when other people are in the house?”

“Sorry!” her sister called back, her voice muffled from the rear of the house. “I forgot!”

She wouldn’t forget when her spell cut Thea’s ear off. Now would she? Living in a home full of witches had its dangers, she supposed, but she would appreciate not having to worry about losing an eye in her own kitchen.

The cramps tightened her belly, again. Wincing, Thea sank into one of the rocking chairs by the stove and put her head in her hands. When would this get better? She had heard her sisters complain about these pains before, though she’d never realized how painful they were going to be.

“Here.” Her mother’s voice filtered through the anguished thoughts like a glass of cool water on a hot day. “Drink this.”

Straightening, Thea took the tea without even looking at it. The faint scent of licorice tickled her nose. Steam rose over the chipped teacup that Thea had painted with tiny thistles when she was three. The plant was her namesake, after all.

“What’s in it?” she asked, sipping at the hot liquid.

“Ginger, fennel, and a little black tea.” Her mother sat down in the other rocker, her own dark hair a plume of curls around her head. “The ginger will settle your stomach and the fennel will help with the cramping. I remember when I had my first blood. I felt the same as you do now.”

“Like you wanted to die?”

“So grumpy and sorry for myself that a goddess had to intervene.” A twinkle in her dark eyes, her mother leaned forward and whispered, “So, which one was it?”

How did....?

Thea shook her head at her thoughts. Her mother knew everything, always. Was she really surprised that this powerful witch knew a goddess had visited her?

“Brighid,” she muttered into her teacup. Thea slouched in the rocker so far that the small of her back touched the seat. “She wasn’t pleased with the theatrics, apparently.”

Her mother tilted her head and let out a bark of laughter that filled the entire room. She’d always thought her mother’s laugh sounded like thunder banging against the roof of the house. And while some people found the sound utterly appalling, Thea had always loved knowing where her mother was.

“Brighid?” Tears in her eyes, her mother wrangled herself to stillness. “The goddesses were not kind to you today! They must have plans for you, my darling, if they were so forceful that they sent the Bright One!”

Thea doubted that. The goddesses were likely disappointed that all she’d gotten for a power was an ability to eat plants. Or maybe Thea was just upset that all of this had to happen today, and her thighs were still sticky with blood.

“Do we have to go to the altar tonight?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. “I can wait until next year.”

“Absolutely not, dear one.” Máthair reached forward to grab onto her hands and gave them a tight squeeze. “You will not wait a moment longer for your familiar. You know how important they are to your magic. Besides, don’t you want someone to be with you? To be your best friend and only yours?”

Sometimes. She watched her sisters with their familiars and it made her a little jealous to see how close they were. Marigold and her hare with velvet soft ears and claws the size of a cat’s. Belladonna and her butterfly that glowed in the dark so she could read all the grimoires their father had left behind. She’d always wondered what kind of creature she would get, and how they would improve her life. Her magic.

Even her mother’s black cat, which saw the world with human eyes, made her want a creature of her own.

Thea licked her lips and nodded. “I suppose we can go, then. But are you so sure that Ceridwen will even gift me with a familiar?”

“You are more powerful than you know.” Máthair released her hands and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “The goddesses have their eye on you, Thea. They have seen into your brilliant heart and they know you will serve them well. Mark my words.”

She wanted to. Thea really did.

Maybe the lavender kicked in. Or maybe some goddess had wrapped her in a warm hug. Either way, Thea’s spirit swelled as she looked into her mother’s eyes. The same eyes she had, the same heart-shaped face, the same brightly colored lips. Máthair said Thea was her reflection. Though Thea sometimes worried that meant she would always be a disappointment in comparison.

The doors to her sister’s rooms burst open and slammed against the walls. The house shuddered in anger, reminding the other two girls how important manners were.

“Sorry!” Marigold shouted. She had her hands behind her back and a bright grin on her face. Her yellow dress matched her golden hair, and a matching silk sash was tied tightly around her waist. “Bella, are you ready?”

Her other sister stood to the right, dressed in a deep emerald green with long skirts that dragged on the ground as she moved. Bella’s oak colored locks were darker than Marigold’s, but they both had their father’s bright blue eyes and his square jaw.

Bella gave Marigold a quick nod, and together, they raced into the room so quickly that Thea nearly spilled her tea. They converged upon her like a storm cloud with sudden shouts and whoops of glee as they sprinkled pine needles over her head.

“What are you doing?” she shouted, standing up while trying not to spill boiling water all over her hands.

“Birthday blessings!” Her sisters crowed as they threw more pine needles in her face.

Once they quieted down, and emptied their pockets, Marigold held out a tiny pot filled with the smallest rose plant she’d ever seen. The single blossom was the size of the nail on her thumb and bright pink. “We made this for you.”

“Oh,” she breathed. Her sisters had spent all this time working on the perfect birthday gift? Thea hadn’t thought they would do anything. After all, they celebrated most birthdays devouring a dinner their mother would make. She hadn’t gotten them anything for their special days.

Thea took the offered tiny pot and the little rose that seemed to turn its blossom so she could admire how lovely it was.

“We never give each other gifts,” she said.

Belladonna chuckled. “And we won’t ever get you another one. This is your first blood, little sister, and the day Ceridwen provides you with a familiar who will walk through life with you, hand in hand.”

“Or paw in hand,” Marigold said with a bubbling laugh. “Perhaps flipper in hand? We won’t know until you have one.”

Her heart could burst with love for these women. She looked between her sisters and then glanced over at her mother, who wore a soft smile.

Thea burst into tears. “I love you all so very much!”

Why did that make her chest hurt?

The three witches gathered her up in their arms, all laughing at her antics, and Thea was reminded how very lucky she was.