“We need to change tactics, Maribel. He’s taken something, perhaps a protection brew?”
Tia Maribel was not in any way my aunt, just my mother’s boss. Being the MA First made her the most important Witch in the association.
She gave Salvador a nasty look and turned away.
“Stick to counting euros, Salvador,” she said. “Leave the theorizing to us Witches.”
“Si, señora,” he replied, dipping his head in respect.
Maribel turned to my mother. “Solina. Fetch the child.”
I felt my sister’s body stiffen beside me. Since Mikayla’s Witching Day, when the entire MA had witnessed the extent of my sister’s magical abilities, the elders had been doing all they could to groom her. She didn’t fit neatly into one faction like most Witches; she was a gifted Elemental, Touchmage, and dabbled in the other magics too.
“Is that really necessary?” my mother drawled. “Roberto is clearly lying to us. We don’t need to probe him further.”
Maribel’s eyes narrowed. “It’s necessary.”
“But my daughter’s too young. Powerful spells still drain her.”
Maribel whipped around, her hair the glittering red of koi fish scales.
“Under MA law we need solid evidence, which means the verification of more than one spell from more than one Witch. Go and get your daughter now.”
Eyes trained on the cream marble floor tiles, our mother headed for the door.
Watching her elegant dark form loom towards us, my sister and I skittered backwards but it was too late. She’d already spotted us, her brows knitted in disapproval. Mikayla didn’t have to be asked, she stood and straightened her skirt, already understanding the importance of looking presentable.
Rumor had it, Mikayla would be entering the Junior MA a year or two earlier than most – so it was Maribel she had to impress. It was Maribel every Witch had to impress.
“Leave her alone!” I hissed, pulling at our mother’s arm. “Last time you forced Mikayla to do a bunch of spells she was sick for days and missed my birthday party. She’s not doing it!”
My mother ignored me, too busy looking Mikayla up and down. Her lips pursed at the sight of a grass stain on her skirt. Then her gaze drifted back to me.
“You this time.”
“What?”
“Venga.”
She didn’t wait for a reply before pulling me towards the dining room by my elbow, her grip as strong as an eagle’s talon.
“Do as instructed and keep your troublesome mouth shut.”
Despite my initial indignation, my knees threatened to buckle and the skin beneath my T-shirt prickled with goosebumps. When I was younger my father always said ‘your mother is like a church; she likes worship and quiet’ — meaning my sass would get me into trouble.
I blinked back tears. The last thing I needed to do was think about my dead dad.
With a subtle shove, my mom pushed me into the center of the demi-circle of Witches and gave a nod at Maribel. The First looked at me with clear distaste.
“Not that one,” Maribel said, as if my mom had brought her the wrong dinner option instead of the wrong daughter. “I don’t need to wait for Saskia’s Witching Day to know she has no gift.”
My mom swallowed. “We don’t know that yet. Some of the girls are late developers and…”
“She’s useless. Where’s Mikayla?”
My cheeks stung with shame as if I’d been slapped across the face. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Salvador glance nervously at the window, clearly hoping Maribel would forget his own prodigious daughter was out there magically turning palm trees into stained glass windows. He caught my eye and shot me a warm and comforting smile.
“I agree, Saskia’s gift is small,” my mom mumbled. “But it’s perfect for this situation.”
She was referring to the light power that had blossomed in me that year.
Fingers dug into the flesh of my arms as she turned me around until I was facing Roberto. The politician was sitting up now, his dark hair poking out at strange angles and sweat trickling down the side of his stubbly face.
“Fine.” Maribel tipped her head in Salvador’s direction. “Go on, question him again.”
My mother left my side and positioned herself behind Roberto. For the first time I noticed that there were fresh chalk markings drawn beneath the spot where the man had been floating. Magical symbols and strange sigils. My mother put her hand on the prisoner’s shoulder, and I knew it wouldn’t take long before her touch magic would flood through him.
Salvador tucked his hair behind his ears. “Roberto,” he cooed.
I liked Salvador, he was sweet and always kept Chupa Chups on hand, but aside from a pocket full of candy I didn’t know what his magic was.
“Tell us,” he purred. “When you become mayor are you planning on putting through the bill we discussed about the apothecaries?”
At my mother’s touch, Roberto’s brown eyes softened and without blinking once he gazed stupefied into the Warlock’s eyes. Yet the politician’s jaw remained clenched, as if it was taking all he had not to answer or to react to my mother’s power.
With a flick of her wrist Maribel made the tie around Roberto’s neck tighten and fly upwards, creating a noose.
Roberto was practically on tiptoes. “Yes, yes, of course,” he sputtered, his fingers desperately attempting to create a barrier between his Adam’s apple and the silk bind.
I felt the ping of the politician’s lie ring in my head as clear as a bell. My one budding power. Telling truths from lies.
My mother and Maribel were staring at me intently, waiting for an answer.
“He’s lying.”
Maribel nodded and with another flick of her wrist Roberto’s red tie tightened and shot up into the air, pulling him up with it. The man flipped and twisted like a fish on a hook, his hands flapping at his throat. His attempts were futile as he struggled against the noose, his mouth opening and closing and gasping for air.
“Do you have specific plans on implementing our interests once you are in office?” Salvador asked, loosening the tie a little with his fingers so the politician could
