“My mother mentioned me?”
They all look at each other, a secret joke passing between them.
“No. She doesn’t talk about you,” Rafi says. “You are more of a…rumor.”
Luisa leans in closer, her voice just above a whisper. “Is it true? The Merpeople thing?”
I could lie, or I could tell a version of the truth. I weigh up which will impress them more, because if I’m going to find out anything about Maribel, I’m going to need these three by my side.
“The fact I blew up a Siren’s nest in LA looking for my sister? It was nearly two years ago, but yeah…it’s true.”
More glances pass between them, then the boy smiles. “So how come the MA didn’t take you?” he asks. “You’ve clearly got talent and massive cojones.”
The waitress returns with a fully-loaded tray of cakes and normal lattes. I reach for mine gleefully, only to find the latte art shifting between my palms. A bunny running through flowers morphs into a dolphin jumping through waves, which turns into a bear pawing at a honey hive. The wholesome images flicker into each other like claymation made out of foam. On any other day, I would have found it adorable, but right now I’m fed up with all these smoke and mirror distractions.
“I’m not in the MA because I choose not to be,” I say coldly, dragging a spoon across the foamy petting zoo in my cup.
Beatriz shakes her head in tiny motions, mouthing the words ‘Verity Witch.’
Luisa’s face sets hard. “Cabrons feixistes,” she whistles under her breath.
“The MA’s prejudice has nothing to do with it!” I snap back in Catalan, even though she was coming to my defense. “It’s my choice not to join.”
Luisa’s eyes widen. “Woah, nice to hear someone speak Catalan,” she says, looking pointedly at the other two.
If she’s surprised by my linguistic abilities, then clearly the rumors about me didn’t extend far enough that they know I understand every language and can speak them too.
“More than your mom has managed to do,” she adds. “She’s worked in Barcelona for years and still insists on speaking Castilian Spanish.”
“Solina is from Andalucía, like me.” Beatriz sighs. “Last time I checked, Catalunya is still part of Spain.”
“Well, you would say that. Pija.”
‘Oh, god.” Rafi puts his head in his hand in mock despair. “Don’t start them off on this one again. I told you both, Mars is in retrograde. Miscommunication is rife right now.”
“Mars is always in fucking retrograde,” Luisa snaps.
Rafi rolls his eyes. “Such an Aries thing to say.”
I smile at him. “And where are you from?”
“Algeria,” he says. “And I’m from a non-Witch family, and I’m male.” He gives another cheeky wink and shrugs. “I’m a uniting force because everyone at the MA hates me.”
I laugh. “Join my club. There’s only one thing bigoted MA Witches hate more than foreign men, and that’s low-ranking Witches like me.”
We fist pump, and Luisa gives us a strange look. Shit! I forgot about their embrace outside the HQ earlier. If I’m going to keep them onside, the last thing I want to do is get between them.
“Yeah, the MA has its flaws,” Luisa says.
Rafi grins. “And one of those flaws is currently M.I.A.”
I look at him, then Luisa. So, they’re happy Maribel is missing? Interesting.
“I don't want to be in your creepy, inbred cult anyway,” I say.
Luisa snort-laughs, but Beatriz gasps.
“The MA is currently run by your mother,” she says. “You should show some respect.”
“Respect is earned, not given. And my mother deserves mine least of all.”
Luisa and Rafi stay silent, basking in the awkwardness.
Great, so my resolve didn’t last long. I can’t help myself. Beatriz’s preppy voice took me right back to being eleven years old again in Marbella, with her fawning over Mikayla and giggling about how unremarkable I was. Am.
I think back to the opulent birthday parties my sister and I used to attend for children of the MA. Bouncy castles and villas with infinity pools flood my head, every Kardashian-esque detail of those too-fancy parties, and the way the children would point at me and laugh because I couldn’t join in with their magical games. The Rudolf of the Witchling world.
“You’re nothing like your sister,” Luisa says. “She had no problem with Solina.”
“Has no problem with Solina,” I correct her. “Mikayla isn’t dead. She’s just…gone.”
I wonder if they knew she was possibly pregnant when she went missing. If they knew who the father was. I can’t risk asking.
“Mikayla’s cool,” Rafi adds. “We were a couple of years below her, but she’s kind of famous around here.”
“She was the most hard-working Witch the MA has seen in a long time,” Beatriz says.
“I guess that accolade goes to you, now,” Luisa says to Beatriz teasingly.
An uncomfortable silence ripples around the table, and for the millionth time since stepping on the plane, I question what the fuck I’m doing here. I came to Barcelona to investigate strange sigils and Maribel’s disappearance for Jackson, for my job, not to cozy up to a bunch of MA Juniors to appease my mother.
None of this adds up. If my mother really wants to know what’s happened to her boss, there’s no shortage of powerful Mages at her disposal. And as if all this isn’t frustrating enough, she expects me to attend the equinox ball like one of her MA show-ponies.
“What are we supposed to wear to the ball?” I ask, filling the silence.
I think back to my suitcase at the crappy apartment down the road. I have loads of cute dresses thanks to Konstantin and my time in Russia, maybe I could wear one of them. If I can avoid Beatriz taking me shopping, that’s a win.
“Don’t worry, we have it covered,” Beatriz says, her eyes shining with glee.
Nope, there’s no way out.
I turn at the sound of a lighter. Rafi is firing up a joint. He takes a long drag.
“Can we smoke in here?” I ask, looking around.
Luisa takes a hit and passes it to me, her tongue flicking between
