As usual, I have no purpose — an outsider looking in. Despite my forced MA membership, in the Witch world, I’ll always be a no one.
I startle as a door thuds open at the end of the grand hall and my mother emerges. She’s wearing a gown of purple tulle accompanied by a dramatic veil. Treading softly behind her are the Nox triplets dressed in identical white shrouds. They all look slightly shell-shocked, like nocturnal animals pulled from the dirt and into the light.
I give Jan a feeble wave, but he keeps his head down and follows his siblings silently. My gaze wanders and I see Rachel the Good dressed in a purple snakeskin suit, Estrella a few feet away in tasteful maroon, and beyond them, the Winter Prince.
My heart skips a beat.
The prince is flanked by an entourage of bodyguards in military finery, this time in dark grey. Perhaps their grieving colors. He catches my eye and winks as if we’re not at a fucking funeral. My stomach somersaults again, but I stay where I am.
Someone takes my hand, a young Witch I’ve never seen before. A Touchmage? I shake my head violently. No. She moves on.
As much as I trust Luisa now, there’s still something eerie about Witches like her floating through the room taking pain from guests as if it were discarded plates. The dead should be missed. Their absence should be felt, not muted.
I blink and I’m transported to the aftermath of my father’s death. There was no funeral. No grieving. No closure. Nothing but the cold numb absence of an end.
A searing hate rocks through me as I watch my mother, their new First, take her place by the podium. She gazes at the body of her former best friend, but the veil hides whatever she’s feeling.
“The Nox will now channel the fallen First,” she announces.
The triplets dutifully take their place in a triangle shape around the room.
Luisa has worked her way over to me. She holds my hand, and we turn our attention to the front. This is it. This is the moment Maribel comes through and speaks. Will she explain how she died? Or will it just be a bunch of riddles like the other dead?
I feel my hand grow clammy in Luisa’s and she squeezes it, probably thinking I’m nervous about the Nox. I am, but only because I’m about to finally get my story.
Ramon, Jan, and Alba stand silently, heads bent low, their faces the only spot of color against their white outfits and bright snowy hair. All I can think about is how that freaky black blood of theirs is going to stain their clothes.
But this time there’s no blood.
Beatriz shuffles uncomfortably beside my mother, then whispers something to Salvador who is frowning on her other side in concentration. It’s unsettling how the three of them look like the perfect magical family. My mother turns to Salvador who returns her an ‘I don’t know’ look.
“You may proceed,” Solina says to the Nox.
Alba widens her lips, but no smoke comes out. With a helpless look she turns to her brothers, but they simply stare blankly back at her.
“Why isn’t this working? Talk to her?” my mother barks at them. “Maribel! Show yourself!”
Alba and Jan make their way over to their brother, and instead of the triangle they hold hands in a circle, eyes screwed shut in concentration. They start the same chant as they did in the basement, but still, no blood appears.
Then, with a sudden jolt, Ramon starts to convulse.
My mother gives a self-satisfied smirk as if her shouting sprung the triplets into action, but their eyes aren’t black. Jan and Alba glance around helplessly as their brother clutches at his throat, making a thick gurgling sound. He coughs, spraying the guests nearest to him with murky water. Mud and silt bubble out of his mouth like a fountain, soaking his white tunic.
“He’s drowning! Alba screams at Solina. “Someone help him. He can’t breathe!”
Ramon is drowning like Maribel did, choking on the thick sandy floor of the Mediterranean. My mother pushes her way to them and lays a hand on Ramon until his gurgles turn to rasping breaths.
“Go,” she says, her voice icy cold. “You failed. Clearly, more time is needed in the darkness for you three. That was a disgrace.”
Humiliated, the triplets don’t argue as they shuffle their way through the crowd, refusing to meet anyone’s eye. My chest aches for them. I know how it feels to be on the wrong side of Solina’s disappointment. Beatriz’s head turns as her gaze follows them out of the room, a strange expression on her face.
“Let us proceed!” Solina declares.
With a sweep of her hand, Maribel’s body rises from the altar and floats out of the room, a file of guests following as if they were a long purple snake.
Luisa lets go of my hand and I lean into her. “What the fuck was that about?”
“No idea.” The color has left her cheeks. She’s not the only one looking completely bewildered and confused. “I have to go,” she mutters, joining the rest of the convoy trailing behind the body and out to the garden.
I hang back, then fall into step behind my mother.
“You shouldn’t treat the Nox like that,” I hiss under my breath.
She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s me.
“Do not concern yourself with MA dealings.”
“If I shouldn’t concern myself with their dealings, then why force me into the MA?”
“I made an MA member of you because it’s what’s best,” she says. “To keep us safe.”
The garden of the First house is elevated, forest on one side and, beyond its mosaic-tiled wavy walls, the city of Barcelona stretching out to the sea. The three famous Grimm-like houses of the park are below us, tourists scuttling around like ants completely unaware of what we are about to do. The sun
