The late afternoon sun was warm on my face as I floated on my back, listening to the sounds of birds in the nearby trees. Someone was busy mowing their lawn over the fence, and the chatter of children floated from the next house over as they engaged in a madcap game of hide and seek.
In short, it was a peaceful afternoon, and I didn't get many of those. But my father was negotiating a marriage for my sister, and I had the house to myself, since my mother had taken it upon herself to take Maria dress shopping in anticipation. I wasn't invited, but I didn't care; I had no interest in being a bridesmaid for my sister, even though I knew my mother would insist.187Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyoxhMn3ET4
But right now, I didn't care about the eventual fight that would take place when my mother returned later. Right now, I had the house to myself, and that was all I wanted.
Until chatter invaded the backyard, and I opened my eyes with a groan. Chastity, her sister Virginia, and their best friend Hope had returned from badminton, and already, they were bitching me out as they dropped their towels on the deck chairs, ready for their afternoon swim. "She thinks she's so special, just 'cause she's the oldest," Virginia was saying, and they all laughed. "She's not even a wolf; she's a witch. Why she wasn't strangled at birth..."
I drowned her out, quite literally, by ducking underwater. I wasn't interested in hearing her low opinion of me, and though I wanted to stay a bit longer, I had to leave and get the house ready for my mother's eventual return. 187Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDD0JGRHjVM
But I allowed myself the secret pleasure of one underwater swim. My bitchy cousins and their bratty friend wouldn't drive me out that easily.
I swam until I was almost out of air, before surfacing and pulling myself out, only to come face to face with Chastity, who was glaring at me. "The fuck you doing here?" she demanded. "You know the rules, freakshow. You clear the fuck out when we get here."
I raised an eyebrow, knowing full well she couldn't touch me, again, quite literally. I was a witch, and werewolves did not get along with witches. In fact, it was impossible for a werewolf to harm a witch, thanks to a curse placed on their ancestors when they'd betrayed the first witches in a deal gone wrong thanks to the first werewolves being dishonest little sods. "Look, I haven't got time for your nonsense," I said. 187Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFqMw6p6Csr
Chastity's glare deepened, but she stood aside, and I walked over to grab my towel, only to find it had been tossed in the water. I sighed, resisted the urge to turn them all into toads, and made my dripping way inside, grabbing a fresh towel from the laundry basket on my way. I towelled myself vigorously before heading upstairs to the attic where I lived, ate, slept, and rested when the demands of the packhouse weren't grabbing my attention. It was blessedly cool, and once I'd changed into dry clothes, I set about tidying my little bedsit, before taking up the wet towel and doing a sweep of the house for dirty laundry. There wasn't a lot, but I placed it in the hamper anyway, ready to take down to the laundry room, where Dolores would add it to her collection.
Dusting, vacuuming and mopping took up the rest of the afternoon, until my mother returned with my sister Faith in tow. Neither of them looked best pleased, but I wisely stayed out of their way, at least until Faith planted herself, arms folded. "Mother wants you in the drawing room," she said.
My mother's commands were not to be ignored. I set my mop down and went into the drawing room, to find my mother sitting in the Luna's chair, her face like thunder. "We have not found anything suitable," she said coldly. "You will make something for your sister. Play her false, and you'll wish I'd owned the power to kill you in the womb before you ever drew your first breath."
"I'll do my best," I said, but as I turned to leave, my mother threw one last salvo.
"You will do more than your best," she called after me. "You will give your all into making your sister the perfect dress. You know how to."
I swore under my breath as I left, hating that my mother had the power to make me use my skills in ways she wanted. It wasn't a Luna's command, per se, and she couldn't harm me if I failed, but I had a moral code that refused to shirk anything she told me to do, even though I hated every single damned member of the pack I was forced to share the house with. Being a witch had its drawbacks.
But if there was anything I could get consolation from, it was the fact I was safe from physical, etheric, and mental harm. They could and did play havoc with my belongings, especially my bitchy cousins, but they couldn't harm me, either directly or indirectly. That didn't stop them from being as rude and crass to me as possible, which hurt so much more than any physical abuse, and often I wished to ditch my moral code and give them all nightmares for the rest of their miserable lives. 187Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8xnY7u3nOT
I was bigger than that, though. So, although I was angry at being treated like a maid by my own mother, I went back upstairs to find Faith in my room, riffling through my meagre possessions. I held still, reminding myself that she'd get hers one day, but that resolve was sorely tested when I realised she was looking through my grimoire, the one piece of witch paraphernalia you never touched without permission. Outraged though I was, however, I waited, until Faith finally looked up at me. "Why do you need this?" she demanded, hefting the grimoire in a careless manner which set my teeth on edge.
"It's useful to record any new spells I learn," I said.
"Huh." Faith looked at the grimoire, before shrugging and tossing it back on the bed. I breathed a secret sigh of relief as she turned to me. "Mother wants you to make me a dress," she told me. "You're going to do your best to make it as alluring as possible. I want my future husband to be so enthralled by me he'll forget good manners and rip it off me so he can fuck me like an amimal on our wedding night."
I wanted to be sick at her crass phrasing, since it implied I might never get that chance myself. "I'll make you a dress that'll have you fighting off the unlucky males with a stick," I said, hating myself for agreeing to this latest tyrannical whim, but bound to do as I was told to the fullest of my ability, whether I liked it or not.
Faith smiled. "Good." Then she picked my grimoire up. "You get this back when I get fucked to the moon and back again." She sailed out of the room, and again I had to clench my teeth to keep from chasing after her and demanding the grimoire back. I could do so, and not face reprisals, at least not to my person, but I held myself in check. The grimoire was keyed to me, and anything Faith tried to write or alter would be erased the moment it was put on the page.
Still, it was a bitter consolation, and as I sat down and began planning the dress, I felt hobbled, robbed of the backing the grimoire gave when it came to utilising the spells I'd learned. My fallback of the notepad I kept hidden under my mattress was also taken from me when I reached into the little cavity to pull it out, and I sighed again. It seemed they wanted me to fail.
But I was a witch. And if we were good at anything, it was adapting to the circumstances, good or bad.
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