Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Home?” everybody questions at once, including me.
Marie smiles. “My home,” she says. “Come to my Covenstead and learn about who you are.”
“What’s a Covenstead?” I ask, ignoring the inquisitive looks from my brothers and Mabel. I know they’re wondering why I’m not instantly turning her down, but I can’t help my curiosity. I still haven’t quite decided if Marie is someone I should trust, but I know that so far, everything she’s told me has been true.
And I can’t help but feel like I desperately need to reach out and grasp the one thing bridging me to my biological family.
“Simply put,” she says, “it’s a sacred and safe gathering space for a coven. Only witches belonging to that particular coven can enter. Unless you come with me as a guest, of course.”
“Is it close by?” I ask, wondering how the hell Xavier could be clueless about a Covenstead in his area.
“There’s an entrance not far from here,” she tells me, which only intrigues me further. An entrance? Is this some sort of underground tunnel situation?
“Slow down a second,” Antonio says, holding up a hand. “You can’t just show up here, tell us you had no plan, and then reveal your plan was to take Wren away to some coven.”
Marie shrugs but doesn’t get worked up in the least. “I let my intuition guide me, and so far, it hasn’t led me wrong. Its timing may be off, but things tend to work out exactly as the universe wants them to.”
“That doesn’t sound reassuring,” Leo says.
“I suppose it’s not.” Marie smiles. “Sometimes what the universe wants is the exact opposite of what we want, or even what we think should happen. The universe isn’t fair or just. It simply is.”
“And the universe wants you to take Wren to some secret society?” Antonio questions. “And then what?”
Marie looks at me. “Well, I suppose that’s up to Wren. My plan would be to show her around and get her acclimated. Let her meet other witches. Then she can decide if she’d like to stay for however long she wishes for training.”
“Training?” I ask, not sure if I should hate the excitement bubbling up inside of me or not. “Like magic training?”
“Yes. We could tap into your gifts and figure out exactly what comes naturally to you.” She finishes her whiskey and sets the tiny teacup down. Then she holds out her hands and closes her eyes.
A few seconds tick by before she opens them again and smiles.
“You have a natural way with summoning energy,” she says. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we found out telekinesis was strong on your mother’s side. But I’m also sensing clairvoyance, and it’s very much buried inside of you.”
I swallow hard and lean back, thinking over everything I’ve ever said to Marie. My brain is so muddled right now I can’t remember if this is information I’ve given her or if she’s really picking up on it.
I’m so paranoid. But can you blame me? I only recently found out my entire life was a complete lie.
“What if I get there and want to come home?” I ask.
I see Mabel’s lips twitch into a smile at my reference to this place as home.
“Then you can leave,” Marie says. “It’s not a prison. You can come and go as you please. Well, I suppose you’d need a witch to open the door for you to get back in, but once you’re there, you’re free to leave whenever you want.” She pauses. “It’s against coven rules to give the exact location of our door to anyone outside the coven, but once we’re nearby, you can send a pin with your approximate location if that makes you feel better.”
I sit back, fiddling with the drawstring on my sweatpants. My lips part, but I can’t form a coherent sentence. My whole life, I’ve dreamed of this day. Dreamed of someone coming to rescue me, more or less, and bringing me home to what, in my head, was simply a house full of witches.
Not some magical place I didn’t even know existed.
“Wren,” Antonio says, looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”
“Why not?” I ask, looking from him to Leo to Mabel. “Things have gotten so messy because I don’t know who I am.”
“Things got messy because bad people did bad things,” Mabel counters softly. She leans back and inhales, holding the breath for a second before slowly letting it out. It’s such a human thing to do, and there’s such a gentleness about her that it’s easy to forget Mabel has been dead for a century. “But I know how painful it is not to know who you are,” she continues. “You could have everything in life, but without a sense of identity, you can still feel quite lost.”