Pineapple Curls rolled her eyes. “I’m Calliope. Ignore them. Nice to meet you.”
Card Playing Dad walked up to her and shook her hand. He was taller than she expected, with liberal amount of gray sprinkled through his black curls. “I’m Curtis,” he said, “that’s my son Dante. Nice to meet you.”
Dante, standing behind his dad, gave her a shy head nod. He held himself like his father did, easy strength and long, lean muscles. He must’ve had his mother’s eyes, though. Gorgeous.
Jenny pointed to a spot next to the dark-haired man. Ha-joon introduced himself to her, and explained he really had once been an exchange student. His smile was slight but astonishing. She felt slightly dazed when Ian plopped down next to her, a little closer than he needed to be.
“Ha-joon,” Ian said, “this is Cleo, the woman I told you about.” He stressed the latter half slightly.
“Oh, the pretty neighbor!’ Ha-joon laughed. “Got it.”
Conflict reared inside Cleo. Ian thought she was pretty? He talked to others about her? Something dark inside her stirred, unbidden. She shot a look at Ian underneath her lashes before she caught herself and pulled back.
Jenny clapped her hands. All she needed was a whistle.
“Cleo is heading a new coven we discussed. They need mentors.”
“Who taught you before?” Calliope asked. Cleo discussed her grandmother briefly, but explained that Nan wasn’t well-trained herself, and had passed away before she gave Cleo all of her knowledge. Calliope listened, her face contemplative.
“I love mentoring,” Feathers in Her Hair sighed. “I’m Song and I will totally take you all under my loving, healing wing.”
Cleo wasn’t sure what her face was doing, but something made everyone laugh.
“Song, thank you,” Jenny said. Jenny turned to Curtis. “They want to start curse breaking.”
“Ah,” Curtis said. “Then yes, they’d definitely need us, wouldn’t they?”
“Why definitely?” Ian asked. Cleo was glad he’d asked the question for her, then squashed that line of thinking. Not glad. It was fine. He didn’t do that for her or ask because of her. She started jiggling her knee a little.
“Curtis is the Head,” Jenny whispered to Cleo.
“Curse breaking is another way to honor the Mother. It requires careful handling, experience.”
“We broke one before. We almost had the last one,” Cleo said.
“That shows you’re connecting. That’s good,” Curtis said. “But to curse break regularly? That requires a lot of power. Jenny said you all had, what, five practitioners? Mix of elements?” Apparently they’d been gossiping. She understood it, but didn’t like it. “But to do larger workings, you need more power than what you’ve got.”
“How much power?” Cleo asked.
Curtis tipped his head, considering. Dante took up the thread of conversation. “Most of us are elementals, right? Power can come in different ways, but training is the most common. It helps if you have witches who aren’t just elementalists.”
Witches who weren’t elementalists? Cleo considered that. She felt the full force of her ignorance, and it shamed her. Rationally, she knew she was doing the right thing by asking for help, but that didn’t mean it was easy.
Ian turned towards Cleo, his knees bumping hers. He didn’t pull away, and Cleo hated the thrill that went up her leg. It felt wonderful.
“What other types of witches are there?”
“Empaths are one.” Jenny smiled at her. “And you two are a hot mess of feelings. Turn it down.”
“You’re an empath, I take it?” Cleo hazarded.
“Obviously. And Ian, pull away from her a bit. I honestly can’t with you two.”
Ian scooted over to a more respectable distance from Cleo. Ha-joon gestured, and Jenny came over to sit in the shelter of his arm. She tucked herself in tight and rested her head on his shoulder. “Mostly she can block, but it’s more difficult in this space,” he explained to Cleo.
“Tell us more about this object you’re having a hard time breaking the curse,” Curtis said.
Cleo explained the mirror Opal gave them, how the miasma was hurting the store. Ian placed his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face when she detailed that and groaned. Cleo continued: the snakes, the slime and anger. Most of them smiled at Opal’s name, she was clearly a known quantity here. Calliope interrupted the planning.
“Cleo, you mentioned your Nan, but who is she, exactly? I mean, what’s her name?” Calliope asked.
Cleo remembered Nan’s warning that collectively, the Byrnes had burned their way through the goodwill of all the witches in the surrounding six states. When little Cleo had pointed out they weren’t surrounded by six states, Nan had grimly replied, “I know.” She was about to see how long those memories lasted.
“My nan was Imogen Byrne,” Cleo said. She thought about adding that she was a hedge witch, a witch who helped women and was powerful and kind. She kept quiet instead.
Curtis narrowed his eyes. “Who’s your mother?”
Cleo groaned inwardly, then thought it prudent to groan outwardly. “Orlaith Byrne.”
Song was already shaking her head and making little shooing motions before Cleo had finished. Curtis just looked put-upon.
Dante, Ian, and Ha-joon all exchanged confused glances, then turned to Cleo. She wasn’t sure what to say, because she wasn’t exactly sure what her mother had done. Her mother didn’t even believe in magic. Nan did, but there was no way Nan did anything bad.
“Shit. That changes things,” Jenny said.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Ian asked a little impatiently. He moved back to Cleo’s side. His arm was heavy around her shoulders.
“Her family,” Jenny pointed to Cleo, as if there was any confusion, “are dark witches.”
“Not my Nan,” Cleo protested. “She definitely wasn’t.”
Calliope laughed harshly. “She most definitely was.”
Cleo wasn’t sure if she wanted to throw something in frustration or just throw up. Acid churned in her stomach. They were wrong about Nan. They didn’t know her like Cleo did. They had no idea what they were talking about.
