I’ve had about enough of the eccentric woman and try again to summon a doorway to my realm. The magic in my fingers reflects off the air, completely missing the ether, and shoots back into my palm again. It burns more this time and I shake my hand, glaring at my captor.
“You’d dare to trap me here?” I ask, holding her gaze.
“I didn’t even bring you here,” she yelps, her eyes going wide. “Or, I didn’t mean to.” Her anxiety is palpable, like a shimmer glinting off her skin.
“Yes you did, your voice was as clear as moonlight,” I sigh. “We welcome you into our nights, to bless us, guard us, until the return of light.” I rush through the words, rolling my eyes at the ending phrase. Those are the words keeping me here, I’m almost certain of it. Until the return of light. Swallowing a groan, I run my fingers through my hair and wait to hear her response.
“Oh shit,” she squeaks, closing the door firmly and sliding to the ground. “This is real. Okay, well, um—” she scratches her head just behind her ear, obviously panicking.
Any reservations I had about whether or not she is a danger are put to rest as I watch her have a panic attack in the floor. The moth rubs his furry face against her neck, chittering nonsense I can barely hear from this distance.
“Who are you? You didn’t mean to summon me?” My nose wrinkles as I’m once again faced with the fact that I have no control in this situation. I’ve never enjoyed losing control and probably never will. If eons hadn’t changed that, one sad witch definitely wouldn’t.
“I’m Alandra,” she hiccups, pressing a hand against her forehead. “Alandra Michaels. And no, I didn’t mean to bring you here, obviously.”
I hum noncommittally, closing my eyes for a brief moment to sense the magic around us. Alandra, as she calls herself, is barely a blip on the map in my mind. Surrounding us on all sides, however, are blips of varying strength and severity. One particularly strong pulse of magic seems to be drawing closer, actually.
I’ve been summoned into a coven. Every nerve in my body catches fire under the anxiety that brings me. I’d felt all the pain, every piece of misery that passed through his being when Orion died, just like every other Celestial. We have always been connected on a deep level.
She may not be a threat, but the rest of them . . .
I open my mouth to tell her as much when a strange roar sounds somewhere outside the house.
“What is that?” I ask, as light shines in through the window, illuminating the room. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I try to focus on what’s happening outside the window.
“Fuck!” Alandra hisses, crossing the room and grabbing my hand. A small gasp slips past my lips when her soft fingers wrap around mine and she pulls me down the dark hall. “My sister is home. She can’t know you’re here. Not until we figure this out. Please?” She opens the door to a smaller room, and I step inside, staring down at our entwined fingers before I raise my eyes to her face again. That ‘please’ is hard to ignore.
I pull my fingers from hers and nod my head solemnly. Alandra flashes me an apologetic grin and quickly closes the door behind her. I stand there for a moment, softly brushing my fingertips over the places where our skin had touched.
How long has it been since I felt the touch of another being? The Celestials only gather during alignments, and when was the last time that happened? Shaking my head, I press my ear to the door, trying to listen to whatever is happening out there.
“What in creation?” Listening so hard I nearly strain my ears, the tiny pulse of magic in the house brushes against my mind and I realize what’s happening. They’ve soundproofed the rooms.
Clever witches.
With the flick of a finger, I bring down the soundproofing, and eavesdrop on the conversation in the hall.
“Oh wow, you must have done a really good job with the spell!” a cheery voice exclaims.
“Yeah?” Alandra sounds nervous, self-conscious even. My hand lays across the hollow of my throat. I should feel guilty for intruding, but to be fair, I was sort of just kidnapped. Even if it was an accident.
“Yeah, girl. As soon as I walked in the house, I could feel a new zip of power. Good job, Bug!”
I shake my head, roll my eyes, and throw myself onto the plushy bed in the back of the room. This bedchamber is set up strangely, in my opinion. There’s no fountain. And where does she keep her food? Contemplating the travesty of that, I flip the soundproofing back on, just to be safe.
The little witch doesn’t want her sister to know I’m here. I’ll respect that until I can’t anymore. I’ve never had a sister, but my relationship with the other Celestials has always been complicated—especially with the sun. He is incorrigible. Everything is a competition with him. If I touch it, he has to also touch it, and undo all my beautiful work. I imagine having a sibling to be something like that.
The door creaks open and I lift my head, my hand flicking up reflexively.
“It’s just me,” Alandra hisses over the soft click of the door closing. Another click rings out in the quiet of the room. Bracing myself on my elbow, I cross my legs and watch as Alandra hesitates at the edge of the room. She’s staring at me like she expects something.
I raise my eyebrow in challenge. I know she doesn’t expect me to sleep on the floor. With a huff, the young witch crosses the room and grabs a pillow from the other side of the bed, tossing it down on the floor.
I grin to myself as I let my head fall back on the pillow, staring out the window at the night sky. Small victories.
I squish the pillow under my head, trying to fluff it up enough to pretend the floor is comfortable and huff. Beezlebub chitters on the wall behind my head and I flip him off.
“Don’t be sarcastic,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?” Luna asks from the bed.
I freeze, my heart rate speeding up again. The sound of the woman’s voice is beyond melodic. It’s like the fairy music they warn little children not to follow into the woods, disarming, alarming, and alluring all once. I swallow my instincts and shut my eyes before I answer.
“Not you . . . ma’am . . . I was talking to Beezlebub.” Do you call the Moon ‘ma’am’? I really have no idea how to handle this social situation. I’m not a fan of social interaction in the first place. My favorite hoodie even reads: A large gathering of people is called a nope. Words to live by.
The snort from the bed doesn’t sound very immortally-graceful-being-like to me, but who am I to judge?
“Luna is fine. You named your familiar Beelzebub?” The bed squeaks under her weight and I’m sure if I open my eyes, I’ll see her peering down at me from the bed, but I’m just not ready to deal with that at the moment.
“No, not Beelzebub. Beezlebub.”
“What in creation is the difference?”
One eye pops open and I find myself staring up at Luna, just like I thought. Her white-blonde hair hangs around her face like a curtain while she peers down at me. I wish I had a name for the color of her eyes, but blue or silver just doesn’t seem to do the hue justice. They’re like frozen silver. Winterized metal. I chew my lip as I realize the heavy eye contact is probably disrespectful and glance away.