Rolling my eyes, I walked towards her. Though, I was grateful her bout of anger was over and she had moved on to the drama stage of her Witch fits. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, now that you are here.”
When her red lips curved wickedly, I knew she was up to something. “What do you need, Mother?”
The question made her sit up with renewed purpose. “Go to my closet and open the safe. I need you to bring me a new amuletum.”
Of course she was happy to see me; she needed something from me.
“Classic,” I snickered.
Following her instructions, I held the precious, ancient jasper sphere in my hands, and the green glow reflected in my eyes. It ignited the moment my skin touched it. As her daughter, I was the only one who could ever hold the Crimson Witch’s amulet because we shared blood.
Ancient jasper was not like the stone found today. It was a transparent, bright green crystal resembling an emerald but ten times purer, which made it not only powerful but also nonexistent in our modern world. Mother had gotten a hold of the last reserve of the crystal in India several decades ago, making as many spheres as she could. If she ever lost her amulet for any reason—like say, the Sapphire Witch confiscating it—she would have a backup on hand.
My steps took me back to her lounge where my eyes fell on the black stone necklace that rested on her collarbone. I stood before her.
“When I tell you, drop it into my hands, okay?”
“Not to rain on your free the evil Witch parade or anything, but won’t trying to bring up your dark magick make the obsidian necklace react and zap you, or worse?” I asked, skeptical, lifting a dubious brow.
She scoffed at my words, placing both palms under the rare crystal. “Please, don’t talk to me about magickal intentions. I am far more powerful than you will ever be, and I have lived about eighty years longer than you. I know what I’m doing.”
Hesitantly, I stared at the soft porcelain features of her perfect face. Due to the magnificent flow of magick that thrived in her, she didn’t look a day over forty. Still, I didn’t doubt her words for a second, not that she’d ever relinquish her birth certificate willingly.
“What are you waiting for?” she spoke through gritted teeth, clearly losing her patience. “I need you to drop the damn thing into my hands when I tell you to. Understood, Baby Girl?”
With the forced endearment being spit from her mouth, my gaze returned to the unusual and ancient stone. I kind of felt bad for its fate, but I nodded.
“Good.” She straightened, taking a calming breath. “Now.”
Amethyst wards effortlessly reinforced over me, at the same time that my fingers uncurled from around the sphere, and it dropped. The second it touched Mother’s hands, a wave of blue energy burst from the obsidian necklace, and the amulet exploded into a million fragments. My hair flew back as the Sapphire Witch’s magick swept the room with a resounding whoosh, and crystal shards crashed against my wards, bouncing off me on their way to the corners of the space.
The force of the blast pushed Mother against the wall behind her, seat and all—her back hitting the surface harshly. Shards flew past her too, failing to slice her skin thanks to the protective energy always around her, but due to the necklace, a few of them lodged into her long, dark hair.
“I’m going to kill her!” she roared, standing, her eyes widening so far in rage that the sight of her gave me pause. “Aaah!” Her fists trembled with the shout; the room answered in kind.
I stared at her with half a mind to say I told you so, but decided I wanted to live long enough to attend the next Madonna concert. “Are you okay there?”
Deadly crimson eyes focused on me. “Don’t be stupid, of course I’m fine!” she snapped, shaking the jasper pieces out of her hair. “My precious stone,” she lamented, looking all around us to what was left of the ancient sphere.
Carefully smoothing her hair back with both hands, she took a calming breath, regaining her composure. I turned around when she walked past me to her vanity, opening a small wooden chest she had pulled out of the drawer. Arching her brow, she gave me a pointed look.
Sighing, I swiped my hands in the air, and the cracked amulet shards lifted from the floor, engulfed in my purple mist. They followed her to the vanity until I deposited them inside the box. Closing it, she placed it in the drawer once again, and faced me. Her gaze filled with confusion.
“Why do you have pink hair, Child?” Mother asked in an appalled manner. “Pink is not your color.”
Aaand she was back. The Crimson Witch only called me “Baby Girl” when she was trying to sweeten me up for something.
“I know. I got on Alysah’s nerves today, so…” My arms crossed over my chest with a shrug.
She humorlessly chuckled. “I will never understand your friendship with those… girls.” Her eyes connected with mine through the mirror, and she fixed her dark hair. An air of disapproval exuded from her. “I only allow it because a powerful Witch needs powerful allies, and aside from those two, everyone else in this town is below you.”
I gave her my best resting Witch face. “I’m not in the mood for your nagging, Mother. What are you going to do now? Can you figure out a way to defeat the necklace’s magick without losing another sphere?"
Recognition ignited in her crimson eyes with the question, and her whole body tensed. A new brand of hate stirred through her, and the way she regarded me said she already knew how to defeat the blocking spell, but she was unwilling to do it. I meant to ask what it was, but as my mouth opened, wisps of yellow and black smoke suddenly appeared to our left, pausing our discussion.
Swiftly, they drifted up over the wooden floors like deadly snakes coiling around the space above it. My uncle had portaled into the room. Well, I’d called him “Uncle” since I first learned how to speak, but he wasn’t related to us by blood, only by magick. The Obsidian Warlock—though his actual name was Evhan Bourgeois—and still, those names were only known by a selected few.
To everyone else, he was the Voodoo King.
Evhan sauntered out of the slowly rotating column of smoke, opening strong arms as his yellowish eyes focused on me. “Mon trésor,” he cooed with a sinful smile.
Unable to resist his silent call, my wards dropped, and I walked to him, letting him pull me into his embrace. He held me tightly.
My uncle ruled New Orleans. He was the head and spiritual leader of the priests and priestesses as well as the Witches, Sorcerers, and Warlocks that resided there, but he was always just a call away for us. His abilities were also very different from ours, given the kind of mystical forces he channeled, and the gods he worshiped. Voodoo was an often-misunderstood practice; although it was light magick, it extended from a different facet of the Great Divine.
Closing my eyes, I snuggled into his chest unashamedly. I wasn’t a hugger. The reality was I couldn’t stand all that sentimental mumbo jumbo. Hell, I hated people even touching me. I’d probably hex you ten ways to Sunday if you ever tried to reach for me, but my uncle’s hugs were pure bliss.
There was something about his touch that felt like savoring warm chocolate fudge, taking a hot bubble bath, and crawling into your bed at the end of a long day all mixed together. It was his energy. His essence. There was something so special about him, and I soaked it all in every chance I got. Evhan loved sharing his energy with me too, which was why he always embraced me the second he saw me. Always.