Eye of the Coven (3 page)

“So listen, I couldn’t help but notice that it’s almost nightfall again.”

Devan sat on his bean bag across from me and grinned his skewed grin. I swallowed the mouthful of water I’d just taken and looked at the clock above the breakfast area, feeling suddenly cold. I had literally spent the whole day with him, it was after five already. I’d lost track of time.

That was something that had never happened before. What were my intentions? I had no idea. All I knew was that I liked it there, and that I’d kept telling myself another 5 minutes. Well, that had worked, hadn’t it?

“I was just wondering what your plans for the night were,” he said, asking but not asking.

“I have to feed my cat.” Really? Was that the best I could do?

The other witches would be on alert now. I hadn’t made myself heard of in more than 24 hours. We didn’t meet every day, but we at least had to check in with someone from the coven. I usually called my sister and told her I was where I was supposed to be.

I think it was a security thing. As long as they knew that I was still part of the picture, they didn’t have to worry about me going against the coven and using my powers against them.

“Do you want to go the Bill’s again?”

The obvious question. The hinting didn’t work, so he asked me out in so many words.

“Listen, last night and today was great…” I started. If only there was a way to explain to him how great it really was. I was probably the only girl anyone ever took home to not sleep with and still had the best time ever, “but this isn’t going to work out. You’ve been an amazing host, really, and Alex is so sweet,” another truth I usually had to lie about, “I just….” What would I say? “I just don’t do all of this.”

“All of what?” his face had fallen, the question sincere, and he looked like I was beating him up. I recognized the look on his face, the same grimace and then the small breaths he let out. I could feel his hopes sink, his resolve tank, and I could feel everything he had pictured for another night with the girl he met at the bar slowly burn. I hated doing it to him. The atmosphere, the brokenness that I felt from him made me want to cry.

Or maybe I wanted to cry because for the first time the words I was speaking was doing the same to me.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean for it to look like more—“

These were lies. I knew full well what my staying had done to him. I knew that it looked like I liked him. And I did. Besides, a girl at a bar doesn’t accept alcohol because she thinks the guy is generous.

“But I do need to go now. It’s been… nice.”

I felt the last bit of his hope crumble, or was it mine?

I left the brown-brick apartment building and made my way up the street to where my car was parked. I smelled a little like Devan so I wound down all four windows and drove home with the wind swirling around me, whipping my hair up, anything to get rid of him. He smelled so good. I put my foot down when I drove past the bar. The last couple of blocks flew by and I was home in no time.

Kitten came mewing into the living room the moment I opened the front door. I shrugged my coat off and left it on the floor, the same as yesterday. It was strange for me not to pick things up; I was neurotically tidy. Kitten mewed again, but she didn’t rub against my legs the way she used to when she was younger, when I was less powerful.

“Are you hungry? Well, maybe it would do you good to learn how to hunt.”

I wasn’t in a good mood. I filled her cat bowl and watched her eat.

“It’s not like you love me anyway; you made that clear. Why should I even feed you?” I asked her, and she carried on eating. “Yes, stupid cat, I’ll probably feed you even when you hate me.” I was one of the few witches with a conscience. Maybe that was part of my problem.

I turned with my back to the cat and leaned against the counter, looking at my small apartment. It didn’t look like someone lived here. I mean, it wasn’t dirty or neglected, in fact it was quite the opposite. It was too clean, it wasn’t home. And that was my problem. I didn’t know how to make things feel like home, not the way things felt when Devan was around.

I shook my head. I would not think about him. So he was a guy who bought me a couple of drinks at the bar; so I couldn’t refuse his offer that I come home with him because I couldn’t admit that alcohol didn’t affect me; so his dog liked me. So what?

I couldn’t throw away my whole life: everything I had ever known, everything I had ever worked for, everything I had ever been for some human, who happened to look really good and who happened to smell really good and who happened to feel comfortable.

I shook my head again. I had to distract myself. First thing, call my sister.

“Where were you?” she screeched.

“I’m sorry; I got caught up, and you know how these things work—“

“No, I don’t. You couldn’t call at all? Where were you, stuck in a bloody cave?”

“Marlena, please. I’m calling now, aren’t I? So you know I haven’t turned against you or run away or whatever I’m phoning for, and you can tell everyone else Cherry is still on their side.”

“Don’t get like that with me. What would Dad say if he heard you now?”

“Does it really matter? He’s not here.”

“Speaking of which, you owe
Nema an apology.”

I sighed. A lecture was the last thing I’d phoned for. I really just wanted to get the coven off my back.

“Look, Lena, I know you’re looking out for me and everything, but how long have I been on my own now? At some point, you’re going to have to stop being my mom and just start being my older sister. It’s my life, Let me live it, okay?”

“I just don’t want you to do this to yourself.”

“No Lena, what you don’t want is that I do this to you. Now that I've phoned, tell whomever you need to tell and leave me alone.”

I hung up the phone. I was so tired of my sister being like this. Our mother had died when I was very young and Marlena had done what a mother would do for me. She’d sang me to sleep and she’d taught me the important things of being a girl; that is, when we had time to be girls. But now... it was a bit late to play mother. It was old enough to make my own decisions, and if she wanted me to be high priestess so badly, then if she got the call, she could answer to it. But she wouldn’t ever get it because I was the strong one.  And that drove her crazy.

I started cleaning. It wasn’t really necessary but it was easier to get my mind off things that way. Sometimes I still wished Dad were alive. I could talk to him about stuff. Not everything, but maybe I could tell him about Devan. Well, no. Devan was human, so that wouldn’t go down well.

Devan again. Ugh.

I turned on the radio. The talk show was on, the one where people phone in and tell what had happened to them and the therapist on air tried to sort it out for them. A therapist on air? And people had so many problems that seemed to trivial compared to mine. My mother doesn’t like the girl I’m dating. I don’t know how to tell people I don’t drink; my friends think I’m weird, I don’t know how to tell my family I’m a vegetarian.

Try telling your family you’re a witch who doesn’t want to live up to her calling and falls for humans.

I sat down, the broom in my hand. I chuckled when I looked at it, remember the story my dad read us once about the witch who used it to fly around on. As if.

Devan had really looked so broken when I’d told him off. I had almost hoped he would take it in stride, maybe not be disappointed when I said no. But that was ridiculous of me, wasn’t it? I wasn’t the only one who had had such a good time, I felt it in his mood, in the atmosphere he was giving off through the night. I’d keep double checking to be sure I hadn’t been imposing. It was hard for me to believe a man enjoyed my company and Devan was a man I’d have hated to bore or intimidate. There was something about him that brought me to want to please him, to want him to like me. That was weird. Was that how girls felt when they were attracted to someone? It didn’t make sense, but there it was.

And I had gone and done just that; I made him like me. But then I disappointed him by making him believe I wasn’t interested. I made him think that it was all just because I’d had too much to drink and I had nowhere better to be. It had of course been the point, but when I turned him down, it didn’t feel good, and I was haunted by his face.

There had been something about him that had been different than the men I knew, both witches and humans alike. Was it his deep, liquid brown eyes that I’d gotten lost in the night before? Maybe it was his dark hair that looked like he’d never been able to tame, or maybe the bad color combination of a blue shirt and a red tie, something that screamed out fashion mayday and individuality all at the same time. And apparently,
there had been something about me that had caused him to feel the same because he was amused by me. Not just amused but interested.

I wanted to believe that he actually liked me.

And I shook it off. Because someone as inherently good as he was didn’t deserve to be with someone as twisted and nonhuman as I was. Everything about me that seemed human was just a façade so that I wouldn’t stand out and blow my cover. What did I really have to offer him? He would feel intimidated and emasculated all the time if he knew the truth.

I told myself these lies the rest of the night, trying to convince myself that I didn’t feel the way that I felt.

One thing I knew for sure; it was going to be really hard to return to my life after I’d had a taste of what homeyness and normality felt like. It would be hard for me to be a witch after I’d seen what it was like, and liked, being human.

I woke up the next morning with what felt like resolve. It wasn’t just resolve, it was a plan to change everything. I didn’t want what the witches had to offer anymore. I hadn’t wanted it for some time but it was always hard to break away from what was tradition, from what I grew up with. Ever since I was very, very young, my mother had told me what I was and how it made my life different. As I grew older, it was proven to me in so many ways.

When I was older and my mother died it was almost in honor of her rather than for myself that I carried on doing it. But now? I was tired. I was tired of being something I never really wanted to be, and I was tired of everyone forcing me to be even more of what I already was.

The biggest part was that for the first time, my own bed had felt uncomfortable. With the clean sheets and the hard mattress, it had felt like I wasn’t home when I slept. I thought about the bed with the unclean sheets and the dent in the middle that caused a body to roll inevitably to the middle. And I thought of the dark comical hair that offered me coffee I didn’t have to make.

I had always been independent, but now, waking up to my very quiet apartment seemed oppressively lonely. How was it possible that one night had changed everything for me? How was one night enough to make everything in my life feel like it wasn’t enough anymore?

I was strong. I knew that. The fight with Rebecca had proven it. The fact that Nema, the high priestess since I was a little girl, wanted me to take over from her proved it. But above all, the fact that no one could make me change my mind, not even Marlena, was proof.

I had to get away. Kitten came in and sat on the edge of the bed, ready to jump away if she needed to.

“You still want attention, don’t you?” I asked and she mewed in response.

“Well, I’m starting to feel the same way you do, I don’t want anyone to touch me, but I’m starting to hate being alone.”

She jumped off the bed and sauntered out of the room. She could leave, just like that, because she was a cat and she made her own choices. She only looked for attention when she wanted it. She wasn’t like a dog, loyal and dependent, so that she had to stay or relying on people for much, and she definitely wasn’t there to be someone’s petting toy.

It wasn’t really that simple, of course. Not for me, a witch belonging to a coven. And not only that, but sister of another witch, and most of all, strongest witch as far as I knew. It would be more complicated if I just sauntered off because I felt like it. But what could they really do? They weren’t as strong as I was, they couldn’t get me to do their bidding, so how would they stop me from doing my own?

I started looking around. The papers offered a lot and it wasn’t long before I’d called a couple of people and I was on my way to find a new place to stay. It didn’t have to be miles away, just in a new part of town, where no one knew me, and I didn’t have to do what everyone expected me to. I had lived in this neighborhood my whole life. I agreed with myself, it was time for a change.

I needed a job, something that didn’t include being a witch. If I didn’t want to be a witch, it meant I would have to live off money that didn’t come from daddy. We had some sort of funding, which meant that as witches, we could focus on what was really important, rather than focus on surviving. Somehow, surviving seemed like more fun.

It wasn’t long before I found the perfect place. It was old and in a neighborhood that wasn’t the best. That, of course, didn’t bother me so much, and it meant the price was lower. It was in a dark apartment building and the walls were a little cracked. The floors could use some carpeting and I would have to find somewhere Kitten could let herself in and out. But the imperfection is what drew me. I needed something that wasn't pristine, that was more normal.

I kept it all as quiet as possible. I didn’t want my coven to know. I kept on telling myself that they didn’t need to know my every move. I let them know I was still a part of the picture, and I made the effort not to be the very last at all the meetings. Sometimes I was even there before
Nema, which was pushing it a little, I knew, but I couldn’t afford them finding out. They would view it as strange.

I found a job as a saleswoman at a large ladies’ clothing shop. The manager, a large lady herself with bad skin and blond hair that she pulled tight against her head, didn’t think I was too intimidating, and the simplicity of the job attracted me. I had to do what
she wouldn’t and it didn’t seem like much at all. I just had to talk to customers to help them find what they were looking for. That was it. There would be days the manager wouldn’t come in at all. It seemed perfect to me. I didn’t stand out, nothing did, not my house, or my job, or my car, which fitted in with this neighborhood more so than it did the other.

I went to bed between boxes. It was the last night in my old pristine apartment, and I liked telling myself it was the last night in my perfect life. The next day the moving van would arrive and remove all my stuff, and I would get rid of half of it because I wouldn’t have space for it. I liked the idea of throwing half the stuff away. It felt almost like cutting ties, getting away from my life.

I woke up to my phone ringing.

“So, when were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” I was sleepy; morning wasn’t my best time and Marlena didn’t have to bombard me with questions first thing.

“That you were moving.”

“Oh, that.”

“Did you think I was stupid? That one of us wouldn’t notice?”

I could feel the familiar boiling of my blood start under my skin. She may have been older than me, but she had no right to talk to me as though I were a child.

“Actually, I wasn’t planning on telling you any time soon. I don’t have to tell everyone every single thing that I’m doing.”

“I’m your sister, Cherry.”

“And I suppose you’re phoning because you care so much? Because you wanted to help me move?” I quipped sarcastically.

“You know very well how these things work. Why do you think they took Mom out? What would she say?”

I opened my mind. I didn’t like doing it, but I had to see what she was planning. She never used Mom on me unless she was going to be very nasty, and knowing Marlena, it wasn’t just being mean with words. Marlena was the type of person who pushed and pushed and followed through until she was satisfied. And that was hard for Marlena. She wasn’t easily satisfied.

My feelers started feeling through the lines. It was harder through the phone, but I wasn’t the strongest witch for nothing. Slowly, I started getting pictures, images of what I knew she was thinking. There were thoughts about Nema, about what she would say about Marlena who couldn’t control her sister. Of course, Marlena would worry about what I would make her look like.

There were also images of Dad and Mom, and that made me sad. Marlena had always felt more responsibility since Mom died than I ever would, and sometimes I wished it were the other way around so she could get a break. But the pictures changed and I went from sad right back to angry. She was imagining what our parents would think of us, how my father would love her and hate me for what was happening.

“You know, Lena, it’s not fair of you to use Mom on me. How long ago did she die? 15 years? And that had nothing to do with me. It was because of her, and you can stop trying to blame me for that.”

“I’m not trying to blame you for that. I just want you to know that she died because she didn’t follow the rules. Is that what you want?”

“Sometimes following the rules is its own kind of death,” I said softly, and she was quiet for a while. I focused on what she was thinking again.

Her mind was frantic now, flipping through images so fast it was almost impossible to keep up. She was looking for something, an idea, a way out… maybe if I kept her talking.

“I’m old enough now to make my own choices, Lena. It’s not the first time I’m telling you so. When are you going to stop comparing either of us to Mom? She was who she was, and we are different. Why are you so angry?”

“Because I have spent most of the time I should have been spending being young to look after you! Because dad almost didn’t make it after she was gone, and someone had to do it. Because I didn’t have the life I should have had, and if anyone, it should have been me who got what you have. You don’t deserve any of the power you have right now.”

So that was what it was about. Jealousy was an ugly thing. I knew I would have to face it if it came down to the witches of the world. I didn’t realize it was already right under my nose in the shape of my own sister.

“Lena, this has nothing to do with who deserves what. I was born this way, and you were born that way. This had nothing to do with—“

“Why don’t you just shut up? I have done everything, and all you do is hide everything away from me?”

“It’s not personal.”

I stretched my feelers out, hoping she had settled on something I could use. Her mind was a lot more quiet now, her breathing over the phone rhythmic and the atmosphere of the conversation calm, almost sedated. It felt like it usually did when someone had finished all the self-arguing and had finally come to a decision.

“Everything is personal Cherry. We’re sisters, how could it not be? Dad didn’t even notice me anymore, not after it turned out you were magic itself in human form. And I was the eldest!”

”Why haven’t you told me any of this before?”

“I have to go, just don’t be stupid, okay? Don’t keep doing this. You’re only hurting yourself.”

She hung up. The click was louder in my ear than ever before. When I read people’s minds the thoughts only keep coming as long as the channel is open. I also get it the way they think, which was in pictures in Marlena’s case. The images stopped when she hung up, and it froze on the last one, almost like an image on a TV screen that had been paused.

It was of me, lying with a knife in my chest, eyes void, hair disheveled, nails out but only partly. And she stood next to me, looking free and relieved and happy for the first time ever. My sister’s last thought before she’d hung u
p the phone was to see me dead.