Piper

Ihad not died last night. A pity, if anyone asked me.

Salty air rushed through my open window. I closed my eyes as it ruffled my hair out of my face. I loved the sound of the wind waltzing with the shards of sea glass hanging from the ceiling. I leaned my head back and opened my eyes to witness the colorful refractions bounce across my bedroom. The moonbeams healed the ache in my chest enough to enjoy the view.

The moon hid behind ancient trees near the heads of the mountains. Lilacs, and other assorted flowers, filled every open space along the mountain side. They were brightly colored and basking under the moonlight.

The illuminated glow around each tree limb made me smile. I loved when the moon hugged the Earth. Different flowers twisted to chase it’s embrace. A few bloomed only for the moon’s touch. It gave me hope. If there were buds that opened as idyllically as the rare few sprinkled through the village, perhaps there was somewhere in this dark world for me to grow too.

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

There wasn’t a place for me here. I believed Beaumont for too long. I had to stop lying to myself. It was naïve of me to let the beauty of the world taint the truth.

Waves crashed against the sands near our estate. It was the trademark filter noise in the Coves. I loved waves. Watching them swirl calmed me on rough days.

The sun hadn’t breached the horizon yet. Still, I could make out the purplish pink twist above a golden halo through the misty morning sky.

This was twilight. The space between the moon and the sun.

Tensing my shoulders, I felt the ghostly hands of Death curl over my pajamas. She dragged her boney hands inward as I shivered at the chill rushing down my spine.

I was vulnerable in the in-between. She knew that. Death knew me to my bones.

The feverish inferno inside me lessened enough to take the morning air into my lungs. Her touch was sinful. It unlocked what hid beneath my surface and punished me for not releasing my worse qualities. She pressed her fingers into my round cheeks, stabbing her thorns into my skin until the blooms inside me sang with mock completeness.

I hated it. I was always so incomplete until she touched me. There was something missing.

She turned my head to look at the moon and pulled away. With my eyes, I followed Death’s bone finger as she reached for the sunrise and caressed the first splashes of color appearing.

A deep purple followed her fingers until the image of her hand faded away. I no longer sensed her nearby. She must have returned to limbo where she could observe me without interruption.

Reaching out as Death had, I squinted, closed one eye, and traced the edge of the golden horizon. Little sputters of purple sparks and glittering dust formed in the air from my fingers. A trait I inherited from my mother. Magic moved with my hand until a soft breeze blew it out of place.

I followed the swirls until they mixed with the gleaming sea glass refractions on the ceiling. It faded away as the chimes noisily pulled my attention. Glancing over my shoulder, my lips pursed at the darkened yarn in the middle of my dream catcher.

Nightmares were a bitch.

I hadn’t slept more than a few minutes. Every time I closed my eyes, Beaumont returned. In his tux—handsome and adorable as ever. He had a smile made to charm everyone around him.

Why hadn’t it worked? I incidentally brought my grandfather back at a young age with no understanding for who I was. There was no reason to justify Death’s fight against me in bringing back Beaumont. At least, even if the coven shunned me for such abilities, I had my best friend.

Had.

Past tense.

What have you done? What have you done?

“Grr, stop it,” I pinched my nose and rattled my head around to rid the intrusive thoughts lingering behind every image of Beaumont. “Don’t be⁠—”

My upper body whirled around when I heard my doorknob turn. My parents didn’t believe in knocking. However, this was much earlier than I’d expect any visit from them. The metal clicked loud enough to startle Silas from his sleep. He rushed up from the foot of my bed and pounced on my lap.

“Calm down. Calm down.” I grunted at his force.

My arms curled around his body as he growled in the door’s direction. Silas relaxed into my chest when my mother’s head peeked through the seal. Though, his tail moved back and forth in annoyance. He too knew a visit from her this early wasn’t good.

Mom slapped her hand against her chest at the sight of me. She closed the door behind her and leaped across the room to my side.

“I reckoned you’d be asleep. It’s rather early,” she whispered, holding her hands to her throat.

She crossed the room with wandering eyes. There were faint dark circles under her brown eyes. The creases of her lips tugged downward when her gaze fell to the dead orchid beside my bed.

Inhaling deeply, Mom turned her back to the dead flower and leaned against the mattress. For a moment, I thought she planned on comforting me, but at the last second, she kneeled to reach under my bed.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind.” I leaned forward and peered over the edge. “Are you searching for something?”

My heart sank into the dark hole that used to be my stomach. She pulled out three of my suitcases and quietly placed them beside my vanity.

Mom had contrasting eyes to my father’s bright lilac and my deep violet. They always held true emotion. My father tried his best not to lie and my mother’s face did all the talking. She returned to me with clear exhaustion in her sagging shoulders. Her amber eyes resembled how I felt. Dull. Depressed, even. It was the stripe of golden fear woven inside her soft eyes that squeezed my heart so tight I croaked.

“M-Mom . . .” I stuttered from my throat.

“We need to go for quick ride today, Flower,” Mom whispered. “I’ll pack your things. Go meet Verette in the bathroom. She’ll braid your hair.”

The meeting. The council had the power to summon anyone at any hour. They must have spoken to my father and requested a moment for hear my account of the incident.

She’d only ever had Verette assist me with my hair when it was required to wear ceremonial styles. Female members of my family always wore braids with flowers tucked inside. Lilacs were a staple, but there were other flowers too depending on what was in season.

I often killed them. On accident, of course. Though, Daniella liked to pick at my sour attitude being the reason.

I slipped off the bed in seconds, eyes wide, and flipped Silas onto his back. He might be a wild animal, unlike most familiars, but he enjoyed being held like a little baby. And, yes, I enjoyed the comfort of it, too. I cradled him close and swallowed down a surge of fear racing around my chest.

“What about Silas?” I rubbed his face against mine. “The council never accepted him as a familiar. They won’t let me take him into⁠—”

“Piper.” Mom stepped closer and bunched the flowing fabric of her dress in her hands. “Darling girl. You have nothing to fear with the council. This is every other morning. Prepare yourself for the day as such.”

I watched her closely. The sun hadn’t made an appearance, yet she was standing here telling me to get ready ceremonially. That was beyond an average morning. Her coming to wake me wasn’t a normal occurrence either. Normally, I wouldn’t see her or my father until the evenings after classes. One of my caretakers would meet me in the mornings and help me with my hair. Sometimes pick my clothes if I had to show my face for the public more than school events.

“Leave the animal.” Mom waved her fingers at Silas, a hint of disgust in her crinkled nose.

Did I say the council never accepted him as my familiar? I meant everyone turned their heads when I announced our bond.

Familiars were normally chosen in auctions by magical families. They had natural abilities that paired with their match. “I’ll, um, I’ll call Daniella to prepare him.”

Don’t you fucking leave me with her! Silas pounced onto the bed and tucked his tail between his stomach. Last time she nearly neutered me.

“Shh.” I ignored Mom’s pursed lips as I reached to scratch behind his hears.

He ducked away. His retaliation chittered through the room at my swift glare.

“What time is the meeting?” I asked, returning my attention to my mother. “Should I bring my spellbook?”

I’d always viewed my mother as an organized woman. It was where I inherited most of my anxiety about time and preparation, watching my mother struggle to fit into the Frost family values. Mom knew her place in the family differed from my father’s place. And since my grandparents never had a daughter, she understood where I fell. Above her, most times. Not that I ever allowed that to change me. My father never treated me as such, but the coven . . . They walked on eggshells around the idea of me being the next female Frost.

Mom was a witch. Not a Frost witch, nor a Coves witch, but she was a witch with a devotion to light.

My parents meant during a unity dinner between a coven in Essex, England, during my grandmother’s leadership. My mother was friends with the primal family’s daughter. The same daughter that was spoken to marry my father, who coincidentally was in love with someone else. It worked out in the long run. My parents married and Mom moved from her family home in Newcastle to the Coves, bringing her heavy Geordie accent with her.

There were expectations in my family. My grandmother explained to me young that I would be the next heir to lead our coven. She had faith in me, like my parents, that a baby crying blood could be fixed. That a baby expelling lightning bolts could be controlled. It wasn’t until I was eight and accidentally raised my grandfather from the dead that she realized my abilities weren’t as they foresaw.

I was tested for human illnesses and curses a week later. The moonstream told my parents what they feared. And that piled more onto my mother’s plate.

But, in this moment, witnessing the constant fidgeting Mom was doing, I wasn’t sure what was running through her mind. She appeared almost neurotically uncertain of what was to come, which wasn’t like her at all.

Our family preferred to stay in control of situations. She preferred a sense of understanding. It was comforting—not her behavior now. No, no, no, that wasn’t comforting at all. I wanted to explode. Someone might as well press down on the top of my chest, directly under my throat, until I passed out.

“I’ll pack all you need, darling. Don’t worry.” She motioned to the bathroom door. “Go get ready. Do remember to part your hair how your father loves.”

“I will.” A brief laugh skidded through my tight lips. I gave her a small smile and hurried to the bathroom door to give her the privacy she requested.

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