Piper

On September twenty-third, I murdered my best friend and lost my virginity within sixty seconds—happy birthday to me.

Lightning clapped across the sky outside the Vestley estate. Jersey sheets crumpled on the hardwood floor, twisted in my friend’s bare legs. I didn’t bother untangling him. I wasted enough time. We tumbled over the side of the mattress where he succumbed to the pain drowning him alive.

Blood obscured the comforter’s pristine coloring. A mint green that once reminded me of the splatter in his pretty eyes. Now, instead, hellacious shades of crimson speckled the green. The same horrific color as the partial handprint on the wooden knob at the end of his bed. It glistened as the light shifted through the room.

Thunder shook the multi-story palace. If I could focus enough, I’d blame my uncontrollable quivers on the weather, but it was pointless. I had angered the moon, my ancestors, and the magic that lived within the threads of our coven. There was no other explanation for the sudden autumn storm sneaking up on Coves, Greece.

I closed my eyes and focused on the rhythm of each compression. Up. Down. Up. Down. Singing a song from Shrek, a movie I secretly watched with Beaumont under my parent’s nose, felt wrong. All Star wasn’t funny without his goofy singing. Now I struggled through Smash Mouth lyrics, mumbling the words as I performed CPR on my best friend.

The world wasn’t dark enough when I closed my eyes. Flashes of lightning haunted me through the thin skin of my eyelids. A hue of purple pulsed around the room each time I mistakenly peeked down at my friend, hoping he’d take a breath. Quicker than the storm’s violent strikes, but agonizingly slower than my compressions, the energy I siphoned into my body ate the darkness stretched across the room.

It was abnormal for Coves to appear so diluted. Even in the dead of night, the sun’s reflection among the moon danced across mountainsides covered in flowers. The magic of the moon goddess rained down from blooming petals and wove itself between each blade of grass. It traveled through well-maintained soil and into the dual streams that framed our community.

I tainted the peaceful land my family had spent centuries protecting. Our line was the born protectors of the balance. Magic like mine did the opposite. Instead of keeping the different planes aligned, it killed.

A desperate scream rattled my vocal cords. No words formed. It came out as nothing more than an agonizing cry for help.

There wasn’t enough time. I allowed his frantic coughs and frenzied convulsions to freeze me in a sheet of icy fear. A delayed reaction that might cost Beaumont his life.

What have I done? What have I done?

I sluggishly raised my hands from his chest. Lichtenberg figures sprawled through his skin in black vein-like strings. Each one rippled weakly with my magic. It pulsed shades of purple, then faded. He resembled a lightning-strike victim. I guess that wasn’t far from the truth.

I was a siphon. A witch with the ability to channel energy from nature and living creatures, magical and mortal. My parents didn’t possess such magic, and neither did their parents. It was dangerous.

I was dangerous.

Beaumont twitched, filling me with false hope. I reminded myself how easily muscles moved under electric pressure. Or at least I tried to believe all the lies I’ve told myself for years.

There were voltaic currents discharging from my fingers. The pressure built up inside me from pulling in his expelling energy. I draped the room in a sputtering glow. Purple and white pulsed under my skin and teased the trails of blood vessels nestled beneath my flesh.

My body shook. Shivers stripped me strand by strand, stealing all of what remained of my strength. Blossoms of goosebumps tickled my skin, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

“Beau?” My teeth chattered.

I eased back from his body and sat on my ankles.

There was so much blood. I didn’t know what was his and what was mine. Once warm and now . . . How long had it been? How long had I tried to bring him back?

Another flash of lightning fought through the open balcony doors. It brightened the room in ripples of color and fought with the black shadowy spots in the corners of my eyes.

Each windowpane was intricately made of stained glass. Scenes of art with trees and ocean waves told stories of our small city.

Every wealthy family in Coves had stained-glass windows somewhere in their home. They told the story of our bloodline. My family had them in our ceremonial room, tilted at an angle that covered the cream floors with castings of colorful sunlight.

For a split second, I welcomed the highlight of Beaumont’s dazzling green eyes. I loved the way shades of purple, red, and green danced across his skin. Our ancestors were reaching for him through the window’s stain of color.

His eyes were the same green as the lush grass of the valley’s meadow. We often escaped there to explore and wonder freely about the moonsteam. Our coven worshipped those waters, gifted to us by the three original Frost sisters.

His handsome features were slack. His eyes faced the ceiling, pupils blown wide, without his signature frisky glimmer. Beaumont gawked lifelessly.

I wasn’t ready to accept what that meant. I shouldn’t have to think about the petrifying idea of him leaving me.

What have I done? What have I done?

Blood oozed from his right ear. The last time I hit someone with any level close to the direct voltage I used on Beaumont, their hearing paid the price. It didn’t matter how many fruit baskets my parents sent the elder. To this day, they hadn’t forgiven me for their decline. I imagined his parents wouldn’t either once they discovered what I’d done.

With a rocky gasp, I positioned my hands above him and fought against the small voice in my head that begged me to stop.

I couldn’t let him go. I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t fair! None of this should have happened.

Good witches do not kill.

Good witches do not resurrect the dead.

Good witches do not kill their best friends.

What have I done? What have I done?

Teetering the scale in my head, I groaned and flexed my fingers.

There was such a gray area when it came to the dead. Beaumont’s death was an accident. He wasn’t supposed to die, so that could offset the balance. And on the other hand, good witches shouldn’t use their magic for personal gain. There wasn’t a way for me to know if I was being selfish in bringing him back or in killing him.

I was saving his life. That meant something.

Though saving him involved the worst type of magic, I didn’t believe it diminished the good I would be doing by bringing him back. I was helping him. Beaumont’s last chance at life depended on my willingness to greet Death firsthand.

It was his last chance to be with me—I mean, his family. It was his last chance to stay on this plane with his family. If he died, that meant Agatha and Nathaniel would lose their only son. Monica would lose her brother.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I turned my face from the darkening skin of my fingertips. The hellish blue flame burned over my knuckles and tightened my skin until it curled along my bones. The crisp flakes of my skin disappeared in the wind, fluttering around with sparkles of purple laced through the ash.

Despite all my efforts, I could feel Death’s presence lingering between the planes. I should have known she’d lurk nearby. She waited for the perfect moment to strike. She knew I’d have no choice but to give in to the taboo abilities our shadows encouraged me to use.

Dancing along the bones of my fingers, the tips of the fire peeked into flickers of vibrant lilac. The heat turned so hot my hand became cold. Flames swirled around the darkened thorns attached to thick stems, vines, and sharp branches. They slithered around my bones and dug their sharp, hooked thorns into my bones.

It was a punishment for agreeing. My mind screamed for it to stop, and still there was a tiny voice in the back of my mind begging me to give in. Let the thorns out. Let the shadows take over. I hated it. She knew I hated it.

I wondered if Death thought it was a reward to burn alive. Perhaps melting at the very threads that held me together was a praise only she would understand.

Who needed to burn at the stake when my inner demons could set me on fire instead?

“Forgive this witch. Tradition she skipped.” I scrunched my fingers and ignored the rapid pain that shot up my arms. The charred edges of my skin roared with speckles of blue and purple ash like blowing on freshly burned coals.

I fought against the shadows as they ambushed my vision. The magic I grew up with intentionally focused on keeping the light. My family protected the balance of darkness that crept through the planes to explore the mortal realm. I couldn’t throw it all away just yet.

“For-Forgive this witch. Tradition she skipped. Save this boy . . . Flip the script?”

Heavenly. I’ve always been terrible with spells.

And she knew that.

When I opened my eyes, purple electricity danced between my fingertips. A strong current pumped into Beaumont’s chest. As the voltage charged in the air, my purple shifted to a bright white. I siphoned his slipping energy as it filled the air. I had to restore his strength. There was no other choice.

Death might have won in terms of my magic, but I wouldn’t let her take him. Not now. I wasn’t—he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to go.

I shot a hopeful glance toward the open balcony doors. A soft, chilling breeze blew inside his bedroom. My eyes closed, and I chewed on my bottom lip.

Please. I pushed everything else out of my head and accepted the warmth of the flames crawling up my left side. It burned my flesh so hot I shivered. I hated the cold. Please don’t leave me.

Nothing happened. I could feel his soul drifting away from me. I opened my eyes and clenched my hands tight, sucking in every ounce of energy reachable.

“Let him go,” I pleaded, searching the room for any movement. “Let him go!”

The flowers on the dresser turned gray up to the stem and curled along the curved vase. Two small flowers, tucked in the champaign of our abandoned drinks, lost their vibrant colors.

We weren’t supposed to drink tonight. A man with sterling blue eyes gave them to us by accident. I doubt he knew we weren’t supposed to be drinking tonight, birthday ball or not. I was still under the heiress status. No heir drinks before her public duties. Whatever those duties might have been if tonight wasn’t so politically oriented.

I shook my frustrations out of my mind and pressed my palms into Beaumont’s chest. Now wasn’t the time to think about my father’s loyalty to our people. I sat up on my knees for more leverage. Bright currents rushed under my skin and through my fingertips.

“Don’t give up on me, Beau. Not you too.” I took in a few unsteady breaths and gritted my teeth. “Ignosce huic sagae.”

The wind rushed in through the open doors. It wasn’t that cold when we stood on the balcony earlier.

“Tradit . . . Traditionem neglexit.” Tumbling over the translation in my head, I swallowed down my worries and held on to the feeling of his soul between my fingers. An invisible force pulled his energy away from me, fighting against my siphoning to tug it back into place.

Last time, I was strong enough. I held on to my family and their strength, and it worked. Never had I purposefully tried to resurrect someone. Not until now. I’d never surrendered to my abilities. I’ve never surrendered to her.

Good witches don’t do that. Good witches don’t let Death in. They don’t . . .

What have I done? What have I done?

A furious scream shredded my vocal cords. The skin under my hands turned black. I fell away from Beaumont and struck the hardwood at my sides. Heavy surges rushed through me. Multiple large bolts struck the floor and redirected, bouncing away before I could catch them. One blazed through the stained glass.

I felt the warmth of his soul slip through my fingers as the shards jingled against the floor.

As a child, when I looked Death in the eyes, it never felt so real. I’ve watched people die. I knew people who wished death was the worst to fall upon them. There weren’t ribbons of grief lingering when my grandmother passed. There weren’t transparent bows knotting me to the body. Not like how I tied myself inside the shredded memories of Beaumont that withered in my head faster than the once lush green plants around the room.

He was dead.

He was dead, and he wasn’t coming back.

I hurt him. I . . . I killed him.

It wasn’t true. It wasn’t the end. I’d come to a lot of crossroads in my short twenty-one years of life, and there wouldn’t be a single night where I’d have to go to sleep without knowing if I’d see Beaumont Vestley the next morning. There wasn’t an end to our friendship unless it evolved into courtship–love. He was supposed to love me. He was my escape from the shadows.

There was no escape.

He was gone.

I killed him.

What have I done? What have I done?

Death came for us all, but only when it was our time. It wasn’t his time. It couldn’t be his time! I was the cursed one, not Beaumont. Not sweet Beau with the dashing blonde hair and kind green eyes. It wasn’t his time. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be.

The air crackled under my magic’s pressure. I blinked free from my deep focus on Beaumont’s energy as it slipped through limbo and into planes I couldn’t reach.

I tucked my chin to stare at my hands. The shadows closed in, and the darkness reached for me. I hugged myself and squeezed until the light radiating off me pushed the shadows away from Beaumont’s body. Moons, I was quaking worse than shifting tectonic plates.

Veins hidden beneath the surface faintly glowed shades of purple through my wrist and up my bloody arms. A lustrous flood of color developed in the plants around my bones. Another reason he’d call me Lightning Bug.

Oh, Beaumont.

The life in his eyes faded. He stared up at me, with his hands limp at his sides, begging me to play superhero. I told him countless times I was no one’s hero. I was damned and dark. A shadow of the witch I was born to be, hiding among the normal and perfect. Beaumont believed I was different, and I killed him.

My best friend. My only friend.

The man I was going to marry. Dead.

“Please,” I cradled his firm jaw with unsteady fingers. The light stubble I had teased him for earlier that night brushed my palms. “I can’t lose him too.”

For a pithy moment, I lulled my head to the open doors where the moon hovered high in the sky. I hoped the goddess hadn’t lost faith in me too.

The tip of my bone finger traced a small heart into the skin of Beaumont’s cheek. Blood oozed from the corner of my eyes as the thorn wrapped around my finger shredded his skin. Pain never registered on his face.

I hovered my palm near the mark and cried out when my hand wouldn’t steady enough to comfort him. It was as if a snare drum was stuck in a rifling cadence inside my body, sending numbing vibrations deep into my exposed skeleton.

It hardly covered the footsteps racing down the hallway. Every sound blended as I tilted my head and exhaled.

The wind tossed the balcony doors against the wall and shattered the untouched window panels. Thunder shouted from the clouds, threatening my magic. I would scream too if I had the energy. My magic betrayed me again. Death played me like a violin. She fucked me over ruthlessly for assuming I was strong enough to bring back the dead on my terms.

Death opened the gates. I sat back and waited for her intrusive hand to direct me down the wrong path. It’s a routine I’ve run from all my life. She regained control again, and Beaumont paid the price for my naivety.

I sank into his body and laid my flesh cheek over the horrific markings curved through his skin. I didn’t want to destroy him any more than I foolishly had. My fingers tangled in his unbuttoned shirt. Invisible weights dropped upon my shoulder blades. Laughing shadows of my past moved in as my strength faded and the glow around my body subsided. I was at the mercy of my own darkness.

I couldn’t save myself. It was stupid of me to think I could save him.

“It was an accident.” The words fell easily from my lips.

The chattering of my jaw left my face numb. Much like my buzzing fingers. It wasn’t the quivers I wanted to experience. It wasn’t the kind Beaumont promised in all his sweet words.

What have I done? What have I done?

A shivering tremor shot down my spine as his warmth faded quicker than I expected. He was freezing. I hated it. The cold reminded me of death and left me with chronic pain throughout my body; on top of the dull aches, I already struggled to maintain.

“Be-Beau?” I cried.

A tight pinch in my chest made it impossible to breathe.

The bedroom door slammed against the wall. Horrified gasps filled the room. A high pitch scream shredded what was left of my confidence. There was no chance I’d keep it together. Not when Alisha, Beaumont’s caretaker, wailed as projecting as an opera singer the moment our eyes connected. Her shriek undoubtedly traveled down two floors and alerted our guests to my wrongdoing. The entire coven would speak of it tomorrow.

“What have you done?” Father’s disbelief dripped from his tone. Those haunting words filled my head with screams for help I couldn’t shove out. “Agah, Piper! Not again.”

I bunched my fingers in the fabric of Beaumont’s dress shirt and wished his arms would wrap around me. He always protected me from the stares of my people. What would I do without him?

I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t hurt myself. I am a good witch.

Thick, bloody tears streamed down my face. I flinched as someone tossed a heavy blanket over my body, covering the sight of the branches sewing me back together. The blanket subdued the currents that sparked through my skin enough for him to touch me safely. Through the fabric, Dad’s large hands wrapped around my waist and tugged me roughly away from Beaumont.

As my fingers untangled from his shirt, I screamed.

“No!” My shoulders trembled. Desperate, I tried to crawl back to Beaumont. “D-Dad, Dad, he needs me. I . . . I ca . . . can help him!”

“Piper! Piper. Stop this at once.” He hissed, dragging me away from Beaumont so others could rush to his side.

My father kneeled as I collapsed to the floor. I dug my sharp nails into the hardwood and hung my head in shame. It wasn’t until Dad pulled me into his chest that my attention moved from my friend’s corpse.

Tensing, it took me a moment to register he was hugging me. I sank into his touch and wrapped my arms around his torso.

He never held me. Not since I was a young child. Before I lost so much control that I became a threat to their wellbeing. My parents kept their distance. Everyone did. Tonight, unlike every other night, his large hand braced the back of my head with only a blanket between us. His chest became a protective shield, turning his body to keep me from sneaking another look at Beaumont.

More men rushed into the room. I hid from their gasps and shouts. When I finally heard the strike of a metal-tipped cane against the hardwood, my stomach was already in knots. I prepared for the man to speak.

“I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and muttered against the buttons of my father’s shirt.

I knew it meant nothing to Beaumont’s father. He never accepted my apologize to the council before. Neither did Beaumont’s mother, Agatha.

“Piper.” Dad paused. His voice aired on the side of caution. I don’t think he wanted to ask his questions. “Are you hurt? What happened here?”

Another voice boomed through the bedroom before I gathered enough strength to answer. Anyone my age, and with my social status, recognized the nasally depth of Nathaniel Vestley’s voice. Beaumont’s father was the second-in-command on the high council.

Directly under my father.

“What happened? What happened?” Nathaniel shouted.

His tone alone reminded me of all the times he yelled at me as a child. He hated the idea of his son being my friend. The only reason he allowed us to interact was his greed. Everyone knew the perks of being involved with my family. And to have us marry? It would have been gold to the Vestley family.

“Your daughter killed my son!” he spat.

Dad’s protest ripped through him with a gruff imbalance in his voice. “We were not here to–”

“Have you spared a glance at my boy? Exposed and battered by that–” His cane struck the floor, and I flinched. “That demon you call a daughter whored around and slaughtered my son to cover her tracks. She’s the hellmouth to our coven’s demise!”

“She is no such thing!” Dad gritted out. His brawny arms cinched me to his body. “Have some mind, Nathaniel, and think about who you’re speaking to. Piper is the heiress of the Frost coven, and you will treat her as such.”

The man wailed a laugh of sick amusement.

“The only mind I have is to end all our suffering and hang that–”

My father clapped his hands over my ears, but he was too late. I heard it. The word fell from Nathaniel’s mouth much like it had members of our staff that were let go without reason. The students at my school whispered it under their breath when I failed to keep my emotions hidden from the world.

Everyone thought it was better to hang the glitch in the Frost line before I reproduced and spread my darkness through the pure magic that swam in the stream that ran around Coves.

Good witches do not waltz with Death.

Good witches do not kill.

Good witches do not resurrect the dead.

Witches are not poisonous black sheep that slowly drain their coven of every ounce of happiness that bloomed.

I was a glitch. A weed no one could drench in enough poison to brighten their lives.

I dug my head deeper into my father’s chest and took advantage of the chance to be close to him. It was the only thing I could focus on that kept me from crawling back into Beaumont’s limp arms.

Selfishly, I inhaled the smell of lilacs and sea salt on his tux. He only smelt like that when he spent time in the fields of flowers my grandfather planted for my grandmother. They were closest to the single Judas tree on our estate. It was a beautiful tree with purple flowers and delicate branches.

I relaxed in his embrace and ignored the arguing around me. It doesn’t matter what happened, or how short the memory of my father’s hug would become, I could feel his love for me.

My eyes closed, and I thanked the gods above for granting one of my birthday wishes.

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