I do not remove my gaze, but I sense his friend’s confusion. Because he is also a coward, he says nothing, just turns and stares out the window of the train. Maybe he’s not as dumb as he looks.
We come to our stop only a handful of moments later, and my sister and I rise to exit.
I continue to hold Beef’s gaze, as well as the binding spell I’ve placed over him, which is no doubt freaking him the fuck out right about now. I’m allowing his heart to pound, his blood to flow, his lungs to expand—and all three are firmly in panic mode.
As I step off the train, I could release him, I could drop the spell… but I don’t. I hold on for a moment longer than necessary. I hold it still as the doors close and the train begins to pull away. I stare into his terrified eyes. Only when the car is out of sight do I let go.
I clear my throat, and realize my sister is staring at me, her lips pursed tightly.
But Flora says nothing as we climb up the station steps and are released onto the street, the well manicured row homes of Old City greeting us.
11
9:05 p.m.
I sit in the bay window, staring out at the quiet street.
A cup of tea is clutched between my hands, warm and soothing. Lucifer, our black cat and familiar, is curled up by my toes. He blinks slowly, big emerald eyes unconcerned with anything beyond mice and other small game.
Not for the first time in my life, I wish I was a cat—petite and powerful, beautiful and deadly. Instead, I was a person, with all the problems that came along with that.
I am a moment from tumbling down a rabbit hole of negative thoughts and self-pity when Echo bounds into the room. Her honey blond hair sticks out in every direction, and her face is all big green eyes and teeth she hasn’t yet grown into.
“Hey, Aunt Mir,” she says. “Watch this.”
Echo sticks her arms straight up into the air. Then she bends over backwards and kicks her legs up and over, feet over head before she lands gracefully back on her feet.
I clap my hands. “That’s awesome, Coco,” I say, using our nickname for her.
“Wanna see me do a back handspring?”
“I do, but not in here. There are too many things to break, including your own bones.”
“Pfft,” Echo says. “I’m not going to break a bone. And if I did, you could just use your magic to heal it.”
I shake my head, smiling. “It would still take time until you’d be fully healed, and it would hurt like the devil.”
Echo’s little round nose wrinkles. Then her eyes light up again. “Oh, check this out, then.” She holds out a hand, turns her palm upward, and narrows her gaze in concentration.
Weak sparks appear between her fingers, and a grin spreads across her lips as she carefully kindles the sparks into small flames.
I scoff, both delighted and alarmed. “Where did you learn that?” I ask, nearly hopping out of my seat.
Echo shrugs, clearly feeling cool and accomplished but also not having anticipated my reaction. “On TiMo,” she says. “It’s a trend. Everyone is doing it.”
“What?” I say. I hold out my hand. “Give me your phone. Show me.”
Echo looks about to break for it. “Am I in trouble?”
“No,” I say, not sure if I’m lying or not. “Just let me see.”
Echo looks unsure, but does what I ask, coming forward with slightly slumped shoulders.
“It’s no big deal,” she mumbles, pulling her phone out of her pocket and typing in the passcode to unlock it.
I wonder if her phone should even have a lock… but I tuck that away for a later conversation with her mother.
“Everyone’s doing it. It’s a trend,” she repeats.
I try to keep my tone gentle and understanding. “Just because everyone is doing a thing doesn’t make it right, Coco. I want you to remember that. When you find yourself on the side of the majority, it’s time to pause and reflect,” I add, feeling hella smart. “Who said that?”
“Mark Twain,” she says, and I can tell only her respect for me keeps her from rolling her eyes.
“Right. Now show me.”
Echo opens the TiMo app, clicking the little yellow and orange icon that seems to be her generation’s latest obsession.
I scroll through her feed, looking for magical videos, but I do not find any. Posting such materials online is strictly against Coven Law.
Of course, I knew it was impossible to keep all witches from posting things online, but in the past, it could just be chalked up to fake or doctored video. Now that the cat was out of the bag about supernaturals, writing off such things was proving harder and harder.
But I was sure that Echo had not learned a fire spell at the human school she attended, and since she hadn’t learned it from us, nor the sisters of the Coven…
She must be telling the truth. It’s here… I just don’t know how to find it. Since when had I become an old person?
Echo sighs and takes the phone from me, clearly having let me struggle long enough. “You have to use a little magic to access it,” she says.
She hesitates, as if she is not sure she wants to show me. Then, she whispers, “I swear to the Goddess my ears are green, and my lips won’t reveal what my eyes will see.”
A bit of magic travels out of her thumb, which is poised over her touchscreen. I actually gasp as the images there shift and reform.
Fuckin’ kids! I think, but do not say.
The feed of the app is now all magic users and other supernaturals, the background now a magical, shifting rainbow rather than the stark white. I watch video after video, both horrified and intrigued.
This one shows three witches, clearly sisters, ranging in ages
