“Fine. Give me your phone.”
Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she unlocks it and hands it to Petra. Within seconds, Petra hands it back, saying, “I know you helped Lachlan and me last year, which I appreciate. But I want to be perfectly clear: Daisy is my best friend. No, she is my sister. If you do anything to hurt her or cause her trouble, I will end you.” Sloan starts to smirk, finding the threat humorous. Taking the few short steps needed, Petra closes the gap between them. She lowers her voice menacingly. “And you better believe I now have the power to do it. Prove to me that we were right to trust you.”
Sloan’s throat goes dry. Well then.
“Got it. I will cease to exist.”
Sloan stands quietly as she watches Petra turn and extend an arm to Lachlan, who takes it with haste. He pulls her into him and kisses her forehead before they port themselves out of the room.
Standing alone in the council room, Sloan looks around, taking in what could have been hers if she had cared enough about it a year ago. Would she have liked to be Premier Witch? Probably. Maybe. The power that comes with it is very tempting. But the corruption and sense of self-importance that her parents would certainly encourage weren’t for her. Is the supernatural council helpful in allowing all beings to co-exist? Absolutely. Do they need to have the sheer level of power that they do? Maybe not. It’s no wonder Grog became power-hungry and tried to use it to his own end. Sloan concedes that it would be hard for anyone not to succumb. And her? With her family and their needling ways? Oh, that would definitely be the way she turned to forever please her parents.
So she made the wise decision and effectively removed herself from the competition—not that there was a competition to begin with. Sloan only had to wait and see if Petra would fail, and the fact that some of the council members thought she would demonstrates that they didn’t know who they were facing.
Sloan glances at Premier Witch’s seat as she turns away and exits the room. On nights like tonight, she wishes she could port, but that’s a skill designated for council members only.
Her phone vibrates in her purse. Pulling it out, she sees multiple messages from Franny and Gwen in their group chat.
Franny
Hear you’re working with that Hale witch
Gwen
What? Eww. Why?
You know her parents just got wiped, right?
Franny
Yeah. Everyone is saying she should be next
But Petra won’t let it happen.
Gwen
That’s a shame.
It wouldn’t be a loss, that’s for sure.
Sloan’s eyes roll so far back in her head that she’s confident she sees literal brain cells dying from these messages. These two exhaust her, and lately, the more time she spends with them, the more she realizes she doesn’t want to be around them. Tossing her phone back in her purse, leaving the messages unanswered, she climbs into her silver SUV and drives the route back home. Her home. Not her family’s. Hers.
She pulls up out front of the small stone cabin, surrounded by trees and sounds of the night. She steps out of her vehicle and removes her heels, placing a hand on the open door for balance. The ground is cool in the early fall night, but feeling the connection to the earth below and the sounds above is worth it. With her heels held in one hand, she walks barefoot along the side of her cabin, following the path to the lake behind it.
The air is relatively still on this night, but the sky is clear. The stars above shine like beacons of hope, promising good fortune. Watching the moonlight dance on the water, she takes it in. Accepting whatever is coming her way with open arms. She remains standing there for a few minutes, closing her eyes, grounding herself, and allowing the day’s stress to dissipate from her body. Her breathing becomes deeper and more even. Her shoulders fall away from her ears, and her magic softens, feeling like a gentle current rather than sparks within. Breathing deeply, she opens her eyes, turns back toward her home, and walks inside.
As she enters, she pushes her power out. The house responds, turning on the lights in the entry, living room, and kitchen. A fire erupts in the fireplace in the living room, adding an ambient glow and the comforting sounds of crackling wood.
She changes into pink sweatpants and an oversized white sweater that hangs off her right shoulder. She quickly rinses her feet in the tub, dries them, then makes her way to the kitchen and pours a glass of cold white wine. Taking her glass to the living room, she sits cross-legged on the couch, picking up the TV remote in her free hand. As she settles, she finds Toil & Trouble and begins catching up on the past couple of episodes.
CHAPTER 7
Daisy
The grimoire is proving to be far more insistent than Daisy thought it would be. As she moves around the house, doing whatever she needs, it magically appears, flapping its cover and pages at her. She’s not sure what it wants from her, but she’s still trying to figure out why and how it’s here in the first place. Or at least she’s still wondering. She’s not actively trying to find a solution. Admittedly, having the book follow her around has been entertaining and oddly comforting. She understands now why Petra had Morris when she lived on her own. Maybe someday she’ll get a cat, or even a lizard, but for now, she’s content with a sentient family heirloom.
Today is her day off, and after the council meeting the other night, she is thankful for it. Of all the people she could work with, the council decided on Sloan. Why?
Sloan has always been a thorn in her side. She’s been the mean girl ever since they were young, encouraging her bonehead followers, like Francesca, to treat Daisy like she was the scourge of the earth. As if she was the one who sold unsolicited wares to the normies rather than her parents. Sloan went out of her way to single Daisy out and made sure she had limited ability to find peace.
