“Let’s get out of here,” I said, nodding my head toward the entrance to the parlor. Ash nodded faintly, casting one last sparing look for our mother.
We both knew what came next. She’d given me very clear instructions on what to do with Ash when she finally succumbed to the illness that plagued her body, taking her from us bit by bit.
Ash released my hand, leading the way through the pews and carving his way toward the exit. He held his head high in a way that nearly made me smirk, his ferocity so reminiscent of Mom’s. I repressed it as the people around me whispered of the death that followed us, of the fact that everyone who seemed to grow too close to my brother and I ended up in an early grave.
Magic had a way of burning through a witch’s surroundings if they didn’t satisfy it with use, and then eventually it would turn on the witch themself if ignored for too long.
As it had with my mother.
Mud covered the white tiles on the floor as we approached the exit, lingering on the bottom of the shoes of those who’d entered to bid farewell to my mother, Flora Madizza.
It was fitting in a way, I supposed. Soon enough, Flora would return to the earth from which she came. She would be placed into the dirt when my father fulfilled her last request. Finally, she would be at home in the place that gave her peace, her power absorbed back into the nature that called to us.
A hand wrapped around my forearm as I walked toward the exit, following behind my brother as he hurried to escape the stifling, suffocating oppression of being in a room with so many who didn’t like us. He might not have understood the fear so many had of us, but he saw it no less.
My head snapped to the side, glaring at the man who grabbed me. His fingers tightened on my arm for a moment before he swallowed.
“It’s customary for you to remain so that the town may pay their respects and offer you condolences,” he said, watching as my eyes trailed down his chest and to the hand that touched me without permission.
He removed it slowly, feigning ease, as if he’d only released me because he was good and ready. I flicked my eyes back up to his, smiling crookedly when he flinched back from the eye contact with what he probably deemed to be a demon. I’d seen the eerie stare every time I looked in the mirror. The amber of one eye was natural enough, if not paired with the faint violet of my left eye. Most assumed it was an odd shade of blue, unusual but not unheard of. It was only in close proximity that people realized the truth.
A gift from my father’s lineage—a trait that had faded away centuries prior.
“When have I ever cared for your customs, Mr. Whitlock?” I asked, pulling my loose gray cardigan tighter around myself as the wave of his distrust washed over me. I turned to face where my brother waited at the exit, pursing my lips as I took the first step toward him.
They would do what they wanted with my mother’s body from here, and I would continue to exact her wishes as she requested. Ash pressed into my side when I reached him, then tugged open the door to allow him to walk through. I cast a lone glance back toward my mother’s casket, knowing that soon there would be no turning back.
Without my mother’s wards, the destiny my parents had chosen would come for me whether I wanted it or not.
“Get your things,” I said, swallowing past the surge of emotion that seemed to clog my throat. The humans in town often called it a frog in the throat because of the hoarseness. I’d never understood the analogy, instead feeling as if it were grave dirt coming to claim me from the inside.
“I don’t want to go,” Ash pleaded, turning his brown eyes up to stare at me as I swung the front door closed behind me. It closed easily, so at odds with the way the wood swelled in the humidity of summer, making it difficult to squeeze into the frame. I spun, giving Ash my back as I clicked the deadbolt into place and drew the chain across the gap that let in far too much of the unseasonable air.
September wasn’t usually so cold, even in our little town in the mountains of Vermont.
I kicked off the black flats I’d worn for Mom’s service, nudging them to the side as I spun back to face my brother. Even with Mom gone, even knowing that soon enough this house would sit empty and forgotten, I couldn’t bring myself to disobey her rules.
Rules that she no longer cared for.
Tears stung my eyes as I bent forward, touching my mouth to Ash’s forehead. I felt him sigh beneath the touch, his gaze holding mine when I pulled back.
“You know we can’t stay here,” I explained, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. I tugged him out of the cramped entryway, heading toward the stairwell at the entrance to the living room.