“Sienna,” he greeted, unable to call her mother when she wasn’t that to him.
“They warned me of a uninvited guest,” she said in an icy tone not that different from his own. “I had to see with my own eyes the reason the spirits have all hidden. Witches are not welcome on these grounds Xander, remove her at once.”
Awareness rippled down Xander’s chi, but there was no witch he could sense. Kyra was there, her aura dimmed, concealed to the point she felt almost human. He wondered if it hurt to strangle your power until it was next to nothing. As a druid his magic wasn’t reflected in his aura, or his chi, so had never seen the point to conceal himself. He was of the earth, of natural magic.
A witch was different.
Black witch auras in particular were like layers of deceptive shade, with an acidic edge that caused pins and needles if brushed against. Kyra was different, her energy gentle, but powerful, like the calm before the storm.
The spirits had whispered to the Seers of Kyra’s magic. The compound in which the Seers all lived was surrounded by the dead, both fresh and not. They glistened in the encroaching darkness, sentinels who saw and heard everything that happened inside and out, but yet they kept their distance.
Interesting.
“Then I cannot stay.”
His mother gave him a pointed look. “The spirits are afraid.”
“Then let them be cowards. You called me here.” Kyra pressed closer to him, and he had to swallow the pleased growl that wanted to escape his throat. At that point he wasn’t sure if it was himself, or his beast.
His mother slid her harsh gaze to Kyra, smile tightening. “She may only enter if her magic is bound, our community would not see her inside otherwise.”
He was about to refuse, but Kyra nodded. “How would you bind my magic?” she asked tentatively.
“You would willingly wear a specialised choker, one designed to block your access to your chi.”
“No.” Kyra’s response was immediate. “I’m sorry, but not a choker. I would have nothing around my neck.”
“Then a manacle, locked around your wrist until you leave.”
Xander noticed Kyra look down, her nod of agreement a taut jerk. He reached back, touching Kyra’s hand, but his question was aimed at the woman who birthed him. “What did you want after all these years?”
“Not now, not after your long journey. A room has been set up in the main manor, why don’t you and your… guest go freshen up before we call for dinner.” She turned, dismissing them as a man stepped outside. “Andre will take your belongings.”
Andre reached out for Kyra’s bag, and then for Xander’s. With a click he attached a thick metal manacle to Kyra’s wrist. He kept the key. “Your room is on the first floor, third from the right,” he said directly to Kyra, not daring to look at Xander.
Kyra blinked up at him, nodding her thanks when he disappeared into the house. She flicked her gaze to Xander, but he kept quiet as he watched her take in the place he grew up.
She wrapped her arms around herself, scanning the manor, the bricks old and covered in various shades of ivy. A baroque balcony jutted from the largest window to the left, a woman braced against the iron railing, watching them.
Xander hesitated, taking a second to fill his lungs with the fresh air before stepping inside. It was just as he remembered, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. Candles lined the walls, lights flickering to cast shadows and shades.
“Are you okay?” he asked when he caught Kyra staring into the darkened corners. His eyes dropped to the manacle at her wrist, her fingertips playing across it.
She looked up, eyes wide before she dropped her arm to her side. “The spirits are scared of me?” she asked instead as they slowly made their way down the hall, towards the double staircase in the centre of the foyer. The large room was glistening with colour, the beautiful tapestries, rugs and ornaments a welcoming contrast against the stark brick. A few Seers stood on the gallery above, stony faced as they descended the stairs. They didn’t approach, their lips turning up in disgust as they plastered themselves against the wall, as if simply being close was enough to taint themselves.
“I think you repel the spirits,” Xander explained, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “Because of your aura.” He was interested in the theory about the spirits, and even happier that their conversations wouldn’t be overheard by the curious spooks.
The halls of the manor and surrounding buildings would have been wall to wall with ghosts, and with Kyra there he could prowl around without worry. He hadn’t noticed their adversity toward her at the cemetery because they had hovered so close to him, but it made sense.
“Repel?” she repeated, voice high-pitched. “Of course I do.” She brushed her hand on the walls as she walked, the manacle clinking as she moved. She paused, fingertips touching a darkened scar. She stopped completely, both hands now pressed against the brick. “What happened?”
Three people hovered, a silent threat as they stepped towards Kyra and ignored him completely. “You shouldn’t be here,” one on the left hissed.
“You have sullied these halls with your filthy touch,” another jeered. “Touch it again and I’ll slice that hand clean off, witch.”
Xander slid his eyes to the three men, a snarl on the tip of his lips.
Kyra noticed, closing the space between them. “Come on, our room is only there.” She tugged at his hand, her warm fingers wrapping in his when he remained firm. “Xee?”
