Enchanting Wilder (2 page)

And not to mention, we share a birthday. Different years, of course. She’s twenty-four and I’m twenty-six.

But, siblings sharing a birthday in our line of work is unheard of. No one could quite figure out how it happened to us. We’re glitches in the paranormal system.

Our parents spent a lot of their time trying to understand and research the reason for our common birthday. No one had any answers, though. It still plagues our community. Our parents thought they had done something wrong. Sure, the same birthday strengthened our bond, but all it did was cause questions for our family. And more often than not, there were no solutions.

Those Sawyer sisters aren’t normal,
people would gossip in hushed tones to each other.

Candy and I thought it was cool. It never occurred to us that it might be a burden to our family.

“Why do you come out here?” Candy asks in a small tone.

Sometimes I forget she needs someone to look up to even though she’s a grown woman.

I honestly don’t know why I come out here. I wish I knew.
I don’t think I can answer her question. At least, not yet. “I don’t know.”

“Do you miss them?” she asks, lifting her head.

I turn to look at her. She blinks once and tilts her head. Her eyes search mine, looking for what, I don’t know. “Of course I do.”

She nods and swallows, looking out at the grounds that sprawl before us.

Her long caramel colored hair blows freely in the wind. I’ve always envied how straight and perfect it always looks. Where mine is wild and uncontrollable, hers is shiny and manageable—never a hair out of place. She looks so much like mom. Goddess-like with amazing hips and a tiny waist. I don’t really look like either of my parents. I’m short, close to five feet five inches, and have a smaller build. Candy and I are as different as night and day. Especially since she stands at almost five feet eleven inches. Yet, our one undeniable common characteristic is our eyes. They are the same piercing gold, not like either of our parents. We somehow inherited a new shade altogether. Still, mine fit my head perfectly, whereas Candy’s are big and wide, making her look exotic and ridiculously interesting. We’ve been told countless times our eyes tell a story. I’m just not sure it’s a good one or not.

“How about we go home and make some breakfast?” I suggest, switching my damaged, I-need-to-find-a-purpose-better-than-this pants to big girl ones. The sun is peeking over the horizon now and today is our only day off. I’d prefer not to waste it here wallowing in sadness about my parents being gone.

“Sounds good,” she says, stretching her arms above her head.

We both rise from the ground and dust ourselves off, the wet grass sticking to our jeans. Looping my arm through Candy’s, we stroll to our house.

The October weather in Summerson is definitely one to get used to. Some years, the weather is mild and gorgeous, but this year has been absolutely dismal. Halloween is right around the corner, but the frigidness has definitely put a damper on the holiday spirit. Plus, it doesn’t help this is the first year without my parents.

When mom and dad passed, we got the house in their will. We’ve always lived here, but now it’s officially in our name. And as we walk up the long walkway, a sense of serenity fills my soul.

The Sawyers have been living in this home for centuries, dating back before 1820. The cobblestone under my feet is resilient and strong, not budging under our feet, which is a huge achievement considering it’s probably been there since the house was built hundreds of years ago. Our neighbors constantly ask us how we keep our flowers so lush and beautiful, even in the harsh weather, and I usually give them mundane and obnoxious answers because the truth is far more complex than anyone could ever fathom. And honestly, they probably wouldn’t believe me.

In a town obsessed with witches, or at least the concept of them, how do you explain they’re
actually
real?

Because we are real.

We do exist.

I’m a Strix. We aren’t fairy-tale beings someone made up along the way to scare children during bedtime. We didn’t die out after the Salem Witch Trials.
Though, that was one of the darkest times in our history.
And, we certainly aren’t what society made us out to be.

We don’t cast dark magic in hopes of finding ourselves closer to evil—well, most of us don’t. But, just like any other society, there are bad apples. As a whole, our kind is respectable. We do our jobs and strive to keep this world in harmony.

The second I descended from my beloved mother’s body I knew I was a Strix. At least that’s what they tell me. At just a few days old, I was already able to manipulate and warn people of their impending, mistaken deaths. It’s in our blood. Sawyer blood, that is. It’s what we’re bred to do. Strix help humankind through dreams to warn of death. We give them a chance to see what might possibly happen if they continue to take the path they’re taking.

There comes a time in every mortal’s life where they have one of two options. And depending on the choice they make, their soul either goes to Heaven or to Hell at their time of death. It comes at different times for everyone. Some have the choice at a young age, while others don’t have to decide until they’re older. Covens tend to call this time the “Pinnacle.” And when the Pinnacle occurs in a life, it’s very important they choose the option to live.

Most do.

Otherwise, the one dark coven—Mara—they get free reign of their soul.

Souls are very important in our world
.
If mortals make the right choice, the choice to choose light, their soul goes to paradise
.
When humans die and cross over, they get to live out their eternal life with their loved ones in a never-ending perfect day. Those souls stay pure in every sense of the word. It’s how the world stays in harmony. Even though those people are gone from the world, they still play a huge role in keeping things balanced. There’s a coherence that comes from death, and unless the soul goes to the proper place, things can be thrown off.

But, there are mortals who choose dark, and when they make that choice…that pivotal, unequivocal decision to choose wicked, their souls get ripped apart as they descend into hell. They turn into monsters—there’s no appropriate word for what they become. As humans they’re evil, and that doesn’t change in death.

That’s when Mara get a hold of them. That clan, and their followers, capture and use those souls for whatever sinister, vile deed they choose. More often than not, the souls are turned into cringe-inducing demons.

It’s just—something feels off lately. Normally, the balance between light and dark feels…tolerable. Usually, Strix and other clans feel in control of the world’s souls. We have for centuries. But that doesn’t feel like the case lately. The scales have been tipped and we’ve been working tirelessly to get it back on track. That means overtime for all of us, making sure each and every mortal finds the light in life.

Wrapping my arms around my middle, the breeze prickles my face and I swear it’s a different kind of cold. It’s icy and piercing. My insides shiver and goose bumps rise on my arms. My eyes narrow to slits and I look around, checking my surroundings.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. People are still joyfully walking down the cobblestone streets. The trees still sway in their melodic way. The sky’s still blue. Cars still honk and birds still chirp.

So, why does the atmosphere feel tainted?

Candy trots up the porch steps to our house in front of me, barley missing the “Wonderstruck Flower Shop” sign. I laugh under my breath. She’s still so youthful.

I’m glad she’s been able to move past our parents’ death.

She pushes the large, dark wooden door, making her way to our office in the back, whistling the entire way.

I couldn’t have been more than three when our parents converted the entire bottom floor of our four-bedroom house into a flower shop they labeled
Wonderstruck.
When mom and dad inherited our home twenty years ago, they decided to change things up to keep it more modern. In the late 1980s, it was a two-bedroom farmhouse. Mom and dad kept the farmhouse intact, but added footage to the bottom floor and an entire second story up above, making the house 3,000 square feet, four bedrooms and capable of handling a fully functional business.

To this day, we pride ourselves on encompassing a whimsical feel while offering decently priced vibrant and colorful flowers. Our family has always been thankful for the ever-growing company. Though times have been hard in the past, we’ve been able to keep our doors open.

Candy heaves herself into the black leather chair in front of the computer and begins to tap on the keyboard, probably working on invoices even though we aren’t supposed to work today.

“Candy,” I say, sighing as I fall into the couch on the other side of the room. “We’re supposed to live it up today. We had a long night last night.” I flinch recalling the last dream I had jumped into. The woman was about my age, though still in college, and Mara were already speaking to her. Tempting her into darkness. I only hope I got to her in time.

As always, we aren’t allowed to reveal our true selves, so I showed myself to her as a yellow canary, my signature cloak. Most Strix have an animal
cloak.
The Sawyer family has always been birds, while I know other clans to be strictly deer, or even dogs. But when we speak to mortals in their dreams, we don’t even really talk. We coax with visions and subtle hints. It’s severely frowned upon to actually use your voice—and even then—it has to be an absolute dire situation.

Candy continues tap-tapping on the keyboard and shrugs. “This is what I’m good at.” She finally tears her eyes away from the screen. “Besides, there are invoices we have to send out. Mrs. Thayer didn’t pay this month and you know if I don’t send it out this week, she won’t pay until next month. It’ll be a huge fight.”

I spin the ring on my right middle finger and level my eyes—I didn’t miss her implying she’s only good at invoicing. “Fine, but that’s it. If I see you do any more today, I’m going to take that computer away and force you to go have fun.”

She clicks the enter button on the keyboard with her pinky and makes a show of closing the laptop, swiveling the chair in my direction. “How can you force me to have fun, McKenna?” She grins.

Tugging the hair tie off of my wrist, I pull my hair into a ponytail. “I don’t know,” I evade. “I could call that cute boy you met at the bar last week and see if he’d be up for some good, adult fun…” I trail off.

Candy’s eyes go wide and she shakes her head vigorously, her cheeks turning an odd shade of pink. “I swear if you call Jared, I’ll boob slap you. Do you hear me? Seriously. I’m not sure he even likes me.”

I smile and shake my head, putting my hands up in surrender. “Calm down, calm down. I’m kidding. I worry about you. You shouldn’t be here so much. You’re young and gorgeous. You should be out having fun, tearing up the town.”

“You talk like you’re so much older than me, McKenna.” She scoffs. “You’re not some old hag waiting to rot in this house. You should take your own advice.”

My mouth thins and I give her a hard stare. “I’m not waiting to rot.”

“When was the last time you went out on a date?” she challenges.

I open my mouth to retort but she cuts me off.

“Four months. Four months!” She’s getting angry. “When was the last time you even bought yourself a new outfit?”

I look down at my ordinary t-shirt and jeans. I wiggle my toes inside my Converse.

“It’s been years.” She slams her hand down on the desk, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “We’re going out tonight.”

Now my eyes expand and I shake my head.

“Yes.” She stands. “We’re going to be wild and rebellious.”

Quickly moving from my seat, I dodge her grasp. “No.”

I’m not being caught dead in a club. It’s full of mundane, loose assholes trying to get a piece of any woman they can get a hold of. It’s not my idea of fun. Plus, this is the only night I don’t have to do my Strix work.

“Yes.” She finally takes hold of my hand and pulls me toward the front door, grabbing our purses and keys along the way. “And we’re going shopping. You need a cute outfit.”

“I look hideous,” I hiss as I stare at myself in the full-length mirror. The cherry red top Candy dressed me in is too tight and the jeans she begged me to put on are a size too small. Don’t get me started on the stiletto heals she threw on my feet. I can’t even drag my eyes that far south to look at them. If the pain is any indication, I’m going to go barefoot.