《Quartz Witch》 A Wolf in the Shadows Chapter One, A Wolf in the Shadows He asked me again what it was like to breathe underwater, and I knew I needed more caffeine to compensate. I ordered another latte as he rattled about the numbers his new piece would bring to the local exhibition in S.H. Ervin Gallery, and found myself instead listening to the drum of rain against the caf¨¦ window. It looked as though Sydney was drowning. Heritage buildings and apartment blocks desperately rose above the rush of water, the Sydney Harbour Bridge peaking between two buildings, unbothered by the deluge. And here in a tiny caf¨¦ on the corner of Pitt Street, I sat trying to hasten a deal with yet another artist seeking the exhilaration of illusion magic. Of course, his name was Kurt. Out of instinct I fidgeted the vials I kept strapped beneath my shirt, eager to be sure they were still right where I left them. ¡°Breathing underwater must be so ¨C so illuminating!¡± He grinned the kind of grin only an artist who thought it would be their brush stroke to usher in the next age of art could. His hair curled from black to electric blue, and I couldn¡¯t help but wonder how much gel was required each morning to shape such a creation. To be fair, he probably thought my pastel pink hair was done in my bathroom sink, not with a potion my mother had tried snatching from my hand when I was sixteen. Sienna Montgomery! A witch prides herself on presentation. Remember to have a lick of class when presenting yourself to your peers. My mother¡¯s hair was aquamarine. I shrugged and traced a finger tip over the lip of my mug.¡°I haven¡¯t used it much myself. Not for recreation at least, just to test the potion and ensure quality for my clients.¡± I shrugged, and pulled out a cold vial filled with a light blue substance, labelled, Mermaid¡¯s Breath. A slight, near undetectable shimmer encased the vial. I handed it over to the eager young artist and his eyes gleamed hungrily, holding it like the keys to a brand new car. Who knows, maybe the painting he makes with it will buy him a hundred new cars. The waitress who brought me my latte eyed him for a moment, before walking away with a shake of her head. To her, the potion would look like a simple tissue. Glamour magic had always been my strength, and I often found most everyday people didn¡¯t find anything odd with one pink-haired 22-year-old handing a tissue to a usually eccentric looking individual. Grateful for the refill, I took a sip of the latte and continued to watch the raindrops racing down the window. Our hair stood out in the rain-streaked reflection. Blue and pink. A stranger might even think we¡¯re a couple. The artist put his precious vial in his breast pocket, and grinned with a different sort of look in his eye.¡°So, what¡¯re doing after this, Miss Witch?¡± Yeah, banish the thought. ¡°Work. Always more work.¡± I gave him my best tight-lipped smile and quickly sipped the rest of my latte. When the mug clattered against its matching plate, I watched the disappointment flash in his eyes. Quick as it came, it was gone. An opportunist flirt. Why is it clients assume I¡¯ll give them some freebies if they shout Maccas and show me a mattress without a bedframe? I tapped the table and slipped out of the booth, flashing him my customer service smile. ¡°If you¡¯re in need of anymore Mermaid¡¯s Breath, I¡¯m just a text away.¡± I said, maintaining the smile in spite of the shiver going down my spine at the thought of having to interact with him anymore. I¡¯d known artists all my life, and so many were brilliant, dazzling and sometimes outright confusing people. And sometimes they were like Kurt. As I left the caf¨¦ my phone buzzed, notifying me of the other half of my payment. The soft light of my phone lit up my face in the dim rumblings of the drenched evening, and I didn¡¯t want to think of the gloom probably paling my face. $250 have been transferred to your St. George account. Processing pending. Living in Sydney in my flat, the quartz dangling around my neck, the pink hair now slicking against my rain jacket and my evenings spent in coffee shops, well my little brother would call me the modern bohemian. I¡¯d call myself trapped. My mother would call me baegchi. An idiot. I looked up to where I¡¯d spotted the Sydney Harbour Bridge peeking through the buildings, and realised it wasn¡¯t just overcast. The sun was beginning to set. Shit. The haste in my step quickened, splashing through puddles as cars flashed their headlights at each other, signalling the cop waiting just beyond the intersection. I pulled my blue beanie further down, even though it was now black, soaked all the way through. I duck and wove through the streets once I was off the main drag, searching for familiar alleyways I could dart through to lessen the trip home. A bus would be a waste of time and I simply couldn¡¯t afford a ride-sharing service. Past rush hour, there weren¡¯t many people about. Most wished to avoid the deluge, happy to order-in rather than brave the storm. I couldn¡¯t blame them. Yet, none faced the kind of dangers I did. I managed to duck into an deli awning, taking shelter for a moment while I got my bearings again. I felt for the vials once again, and breathed a sigh of relief. All of them were safe and accounted for.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. A second vial of Mermaid¡¯s Breath. Three vials of Inferno Skin. One vial of Eye of the Beholder. One vial of Drake Claws. Some were worth more than others, sure. But for me they meant everything. And some people, those who knew of witches, our potions, saw opportunity in a lone witch in the low light of the Sydney evening. Especially those who knew of the Quartz Witch. And right now, across the road standing in the middle of a crossing, I think one such opportunist had spotted me. Too late for a glamour. Shit. I spun on my heel and made a break for it. And so did he. Through the nearest alleyway I ran, ducking beneath make-shift clothes hangers and jumped over old boxes that had sunken in the rain. Hearing more footsteps behind me, I risked a glance behind me. There were three of them now. All in hoodies, their faces obscured with a mask or pieces of cloth pulled up. My heart began to thunder in my chest, and I could only run faster. Down the slant of another empty street, up a chain-link fence they continued their chase. They never broke or hesitated, intent on their prey. I ignored their whoops and cries, their jeers for me to just slow down and chat with them. One assured me they wanted to purchase one of my wares. I ran and ran, ignoring all else until I ducked into another alley, hoping to find a busy main street on the other side. Instead, I found a dead-end. Before they caught up, I had a few seconds to decide. My hand went to the warmest vial against my chest, but hesitation stopped my fingers from flicking the cork right off. Drake Claws began to heat up my finger-tips, and I made my decision. A single vial alone was worth $2000. It was enough to really help me move out of the city. And it¡¯s enough for Liam. I pressed my back against the concrete wall, rain-water running down the back of my jacket. They stood before me, even their eyes concealed from me. The one with the black jacket who first stared me down held his hand out. ¡°You know what we want. Hand them over. Or we¡¯ll take you and you can be our cash cow!¡± He growled, something feral in his voice. My chest heaved, palms sweating as my mind raced to figure out what the hell to do. Before I could figure out how to hide the Drake Claws somehow, a true growl rung out from above the alley. The chasers spun around and looked up, and they each gazed at the wolf staring them down from the top of a fire-escape. Yellow eyes blazed, a long grey tail flicking back and forth as another furious growl ripped from its throat. My fear evaporated and the pull of the familiar bond flickered in me. Robert. ¡°Scum!¡± Her wolf roared, leaping from the top of the fire-escape, and slamming down before the three thieves. He stood tall like a man, grey fur turned dark in the rain, his lips pulled back in a fierce snarl. One of the robbers tried his like, attempting to throw a feeble punch. The wolf swatted him away with ease, claws glinting in the yellow light of the alley. The robber slammed against the concrete, scrambling to his feet and racing away. I gasped as the one in the black hoodie lunged for me, only for to be flung away like a bag of trash. The third shrunk under Robert¡¯s yellow gaze and sped away in fear, whimpering as he made his escape. I felt my breath return to my lungs, and I pulled the hood back up over my beanie. ¡°God, my back hurts,¡± Her familiar grumbled, returning to his human form as he slicked his grey hair back down. When a familiar returned to their human selves, it was a quick process, their fur, fangs and claws disappearing in a black wisp. He retained the same height, the same stony gaze and old brown coat. ¡°Let¡¯s get you back to your place, Sienna.¡± He said softly, pulling me into a broad-chested hug. Even his softest words came out like a gravely growl. We made it back to her flat before the thunder began. Inside, I shed my jacket and beanie. Robert made himself at home with a cup of English Tea, sitting at my table to admire the lilies he¡¯d bought me a few weeks back for my birthday. We ate Chinese take-out as thunder flashed in the full-moon window that over-looked the dark, yellow-lit streets. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sienna. I should¡¯ve been there before they could¡¯ve spotted you.¡± Robert sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. I slurped up a noodle, and shrugged. ¡°You saved me Rob. That¡¯s what matters.¡± He said little else, but his yellow eyes seemed sullen. My familiar had always been a thoughtful man. He was older than most familiars, but that had always brought me comfort. He wasn¡¯t brash or loud, but decisive. He had time, wisdom and experience on his side when it came to defending me. But he was a harsh self-critic. An old, grey wolf that judged himself before all others. I gave him one more hug before he left, enjoying the pat on the head he always gave me when we departed. ¡°Listen, Sien. I don¡¯t want to think about what might have happened if I¡¯d shown up just a few moments later than I had. Our bond has always been strong, but my back and my response time has only gotten slower with each passing year since Silas. I think it¡¯s time I retire,¡± He said, scratching the back of his head. A pang of sorrow filled my chest, and I did my best not to let it well up and for the tears to run down my cheeks. ¡°Robert, I - ¡± I began. ¡°I already have a replacement in mind. Meet me for ramen tomorrow and we can talk about it.¡± He said, already turning away. I leant against the open door way, and watched him disappear around the corner of the hallway. I stood there for a while, just staring at the grey carpet. Out of instinct, I went to feel for the vials wrapped around me, but found nothing. They were tucked away in my Pomegranate Safe, warm and protected against the world. While I stood in a draft, soaked to the bone. Lilacs and Liberties I¡¯d always found that in the face of obstacles the world threw at me, there were always comforts, no matter how little, to be had. When I¡¯d gotten my first period, there¡¯d been a warm soothing soup that mother had left me outside my bedroom when I finally came back outside. The child-like wonder aquariums brought me had gotten me through my first heart-break. And now with Robert retiring and leaving me in the protection of a stranger, I turned to a floral-scented comfort of mine. The rain had stopped, but the flowers outside Duke¡¯s, Flowers for every occasion! Were still bowing to the droplets weighing their petals down. Inside, James Hapney would be preparing for his day. Usually he was alone in the shop, save the delivery kid that would pedal their bouquets all over Sydney. He¡¯d begin with preparations, counting the decorative materials, checking orders that had come in over-night. A small part of me envied it. The mundanity of a human life. The simple worries of whether their latte was just right, or if he¡¯d cut his thumb on yet another thorn. I gave myself a moment, and stepped inside. There was no use to musing over such things. If I were born outside my coven to a human mother, I knew I¡¯d find myself staring outside the glass of a flower shop craving the dangers of the life of a witch. ¡°James,¡± I called out, sliding his cappuccino onto the counter. He looked up from his counting, jotting down another point in his hand-written inventory. A smile quickly lit up his face when he noted the tall cappuccino. His smile and his coffee were entwined, a habit he¡¯d kept from our days in University together. With four different coffee shops on campus, we decided a latte and a cappuccino after seminars were our given right. Just like his smile, most of James could be described as a habit. The way he let his russet curls hang loosely, the black-framed glasses he¡¯d had since before the start of university to the knit-sweaters he always seemed to wear when working. James took a sip of his cappuccino. ¡°Guess what?¡± I leant against the counter and took a long, dramatic sip of my latte. ¡°What?¡± He drummed his pencils on the old wooden counter and threw them up into the air. ¡°I got a date!¡± He announced. The pencils came clattering down onto the floor. James, a date? Unheard of. ¡°Never would¡¯ve guessed that in a million years. Good thing you just cut right to the point?¡± I said with a smirk, hiding behind my take-away cup. With my free hand I slipped a hand underneath my shirt and tugged a sweet-smelling vial out of its pouch and rolled it onto the counter. James snorted. ¡°Rude. Plenty of girls hit me up all the time.¡± He said, putting a bunch of lilacs from the behind the counter in front of me. ¡°Funny how you never manage to get a date with any of them,¡± I teased. I ran a thumb over the petals, happy with the quality. James gave the vial a cautious sniff and squinted at the label. ¡°Florrssian.¡± He mumbled. I tucked the lilacs away into my brown back-pack, silently praying they¡¯d stay intact for the trip home. ¡°It¡¯ll help you figure out why the petunia¡¯s keep dying. With Florrssian you can understand the flowers in a more¡­empathetic language, rather than a spoken language. It¡¯s a fairly quick potion to brew, since witch¡¯s usually use it to care for their own house-plants and herb garden.¡± And it¡¯s cheap. ¡°So how¡¯d you manage to convince this poor girl into going on a date with you?¡± I asked, a little stab of jealously in stomach. It¡¯d been a year since my last date. Of course, much had happened in between then and now and dates had been right down there at the bottom of the list of things that truly mattered. Still, I couldn¡¯t help but miss the butterflies I got when meeting someone new. In spite of that, I was happy for James. He was the off-beat type, and sometimes found it hard to find the same rhythm others were on. Hopefully whoever this girl was, was nice.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°Met her on a delivery. Art studio had ordered some arranged sunflower bouquets as models for a few honours students and she liked more than just the flowers I guess,¡± James said with a cheeky smile, flipping his inventory notebook over. He bit his lip, and glanced up to me with a sheepish look. ¡°One little thing, though. I kind of made it a double date on accident. So I was thinking you and Robert can come along - ¡± He began, looking ready to dodge a bullet. I nearly spat out my latte. ¡°Robert and I are friends and he¡¯s my familiar. We¡¯re not like that,¡± I insisted, tapping my fingers on the counter. James put his hands up in mock surrender. I slumped onto my hand, my cheek pushing down onto knuckles. ¡°Besides. He¡¯s not even my familiar anymore. He¡¯s retiring.¡± James took a sip of cappuccino and gave me a quizzical look. ¡°Bit young for retirement isn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°Familiar and human retirement are two very different things. Humans retire at the end of their working life, but Familiars can retire from their Witch for a few reasons. Most don¡¯t. The bond we forge is quite strong and we get quite close but at the end of the day Familiars are still independent people. A year before we met Robert was badly hurt in a fight that¡¯s left his back with a permanent injury. It¡¯s hard, but I think he just wants the best for me. And if that means getting a different protector...¡± I said, my voice growing softer. James said nothing, but put his hand on mine and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. There was a soft look in his hazel eyes that helped quell the anxieties bubbling away in my stomach. ¡°Look, if I find someone I¡¯ll bring them. But I¡¯ll be there if you want me to,¡± I shrugged, swinging my backpack on. ¡°Thanks. And thanks for the potion, too.¡± James smiled with a wave. I left the shop and stretched, enjoying the sunshine on my face. As I began to decide on where to go next before my ramen meeting with Robert, a shadow blocked the sunshine. ¡°Sienna Cross. Off to write your report, I presume?¡± A cold, flat voice sliced through the hum of traffic. I spun around and standing over me was the unwelcome sight of William Fade, a Red Sparrow. He had the same hazel eyes as James, but with none of the softness. A crimson half-cloak rippled in the morning breeze, red feathers sprouting from his shoulder pauldrons, the silver gauntlets on his knuckles glittering. The familiar brown curls of the Fade¡¯s were tied up in a prim and proper bun, a sharp look on his face as he glared down at me. I haven¡¯t even had time to think about writing up my report for the Mermaid¡¯s breath potion. Considering I was nearly kidnapped and mugged afterwards, I¡¯m guessing Kurt had something to do with it. Can¡¯t include that in my report, though. That¡¯d bring some unwanted eyes from Holfast on me. ¡°I-I¡¯m in the process, of writing the report, sir.¡± I stammered, my eyes dropping to the footpath. Red Sparrows were creatures fed with respect, efficiency and a lack of questions. They were the eyes and ears of their Witch Chapter and the accountability enforcer when necessary. Men and women with hard gazes and the ability to serve without question were selected as Red Sparrows, usually human families that already ran adjacent to the world of magic and witches. A knot twisted itself in my stomach as I glanced over to the flower shop. James was looking out at us, a look of hesitation on his gentle features. If William was the blade of the Fade¡¯s, then James was the bandage that held them all together. When I first learnt the Chapter of Persephone had selected William Fade as their new Red Sparrow to watch over the Sydney Witches, the very same knot in my stomach had formed. ¡°Holfast has questions, Sienna. Specifically, they wish to know what you might know about a blue-haired prisoner of theirs. His trial was meant to begin today.¡± William said. He turned to sniff at the morning air, like a normal human might sniff the air in appreciation of the beautiful weather, or hope for what they new day promised. The Sparrow seemed to be mourning the loss of a trial that he already knew the ending to. Guilty. Holfast reigned over all. For a thousand years, the Celestial forest and the Palace at its heart had reigned over all Witch Chapters. Those that bowed to Persephone, the elder Chapter Demeter, Shiva and the Crone had formed a council to preside over the ever-changing world. From Holfast they reigned, and with their Sparrows they listened and controlled every witch. From Quartz to Serpent. From the Witches that lived amongst the polar Bears in the Artic to the jungles of Kerala. ¡°I don¡¯t know much of anything about the inner-workings of Persephone¡¯s council, or what they do with their prisoners. If I hear anything, I¡¯ll include it in my report.¡± I said. Hastily, I plucked a lilac from the bunch and offered it to him. ¡°There¡¯s few of us in the city, but I¡¯ll ask around,¡± I said with a small nod. The Red Sparrow looked at the flower with a flicker of suspicion, then took it. ¡°Have the report ready and sent before tomorrow, sundown.¡± William said with a twitch of his nose. He spun, his crimson cloak filling my vision for a moment. The sound of the beating of wings filled the air for a moment, and just like that he was gone. I dug my fingers into my palms. If my mother hears of this, she¡¯ll claw her way back into my life and all the chaos she brings with her. And if she figures out what I¡¯ve done, I¡¯ll be on trial too. And I know exactly how it will end. Chapter 3, The Known Comforts of Karaage Chapter 3, The Known Comforts of Karaage I kept glancing at the file so often, Robert closed the manilla folder and pushed it to the edge of the table. He looked to me, then down to my bowl of Karaage, siracha and red cabbage. I got the message. ¡°How¡¯s the Tonkotsu?¡± I murmured, taking a bite of my own meal. Robert took a half-hearted gulp of the garlicy broth. He shrugged. ¡°Bit weak, I suppose. The noodles here are always to die for, though,¡± He said. His eyes were distant and I knew he was trying to restrain himself from staring at the manilla folder. The restaurant was at its busiest at midday, with waiters dancing through throngs of ramen-hungry Sydney-goers. A Japanese pop bands latest album echoed about the place, everyone too busy and enveloped in their conversations to notice the Familiar and her Witch. I nibbled at my Karaage more. My mother¡¯s voice rattled about in my head. To waste food is to disrespect all around you. The money spent, the chef who made it and yourself. I decided focusing on finishing my bowl was a better use of my time than anxiously glancing at the folder. Robert finished his food and set his bowl down. With a deep sigh, he flicked through the folder and looked back to me. ¡°His name is Alistair. He¡¯s an incredibly rare breed of Familiar. A black mane lion, specifically. From reviews, reports and all the information I¡¯ve been able to gather he¡¯s a hard-worker, reliable, strong and capable. Most importantly, he¡¯s responsive. I know you don¡¯t fancy a familiar that wants to breathe down your neck, but you also need someone who can be there in a moment¡¯s notice if danger comes sniffing around. If you like him and think he¡¯s a good fit, then go to Holfast and forge your bond in Vestus.¡± Robert said, wiping some of the broth from his beard. The breath caught in my throat. A pinching fear swelled within me. Casca. The Vestus. To forge a new bond¡­I will have to return to Holfast. To the scene of the crime, where they¡¯re searching for suspects¡­ In the very council chambers she was trying to steer clear from, there was a shallow pool where the ancient bond between a witch and her familiar was forged. The last time I was in that pool, the glowing green waters reaching my ankles, I was standing before Robert. I¡¯ll need to be able to trust this Alistair enough to keep my secret. I couldn¡¯t even bring myself to trust Robert with it. But¡­if I can¡¯t fully forge my bond with Alistair, then I¡¯ll be without immediate protection. Can I protect myself, while I figure out if I can trust him? I groaned inwardly and bit my lip. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. As I ate the rest of my Karaage, I tried keenly to concentrate solely on the food and not betray the panic twisting about inside me. I gave Robert a hug as we parted, and promised to meet Alistair at central station the next day. ~ In the nicer suburbs of Sydney, there was a particularly odd massage therapist. She worked from a home studio filled with incense, and oils, mysterious balms filling terracotta pots and sage hung from the roof. She¡¯d gone through University and had all the human certifications. Yet, she had few customers. Few, but well paying. Because they knew the healing magic in her fingers, the cold that flowed from every massage stroke that seemed capable of soothing any ailment.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. I skipped up the tiny staircase leading to her floor, and couldn¡¯t help but feel that familiar pinch of jealously. I pushed it down, willing it to go away. It was common amongst witches to share a touch of jealously for their fellow witches magic in contrast to theirs, in the same way you might be jealous of someone else¡¯s life in the lenses of Instagram. You got to see all the good parts, but never the messy bits. ¡°Aika?¡± I called out, knocking softly on the door. Aika answered the door in a huff, ushering me in. Inside the sweet and herb-scented air of her apartment, I realised her rush. A client lay on her massage bed, ice crystals glistening on his pink skin and coal-black scales trailing down his spine. ¡°There¡¯s some fresh coffee in the pot,¡± Aika continued the massage, a blue frost forming on her fingers as she worked. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, shrugging my backpack off. I poured us both a cup of straight coffee, and watched her work. I¡¯d always admired the more elemental witches as their magic was always far more visually spectacular. As Aika worked her way down the client¡¯s back, she flicked her black, cat-like ears in concentration. Ice formed on her black tail, yet it didn¡¯t both her. Aika was short but had all the litheness of a cat, the fur on her ears and tail the same raven black as her hair. Her long hair fell like a waterfall of darkness down her back, bangs sweeping over crystalline blue eyes with dark irises that would occasionally shrink into a slit in harsh light. Her father, a feline Familiar had those same black ears and tail, but the blue eyes were from her mother. They were an odd tale amongst the Sydney Witches, a story of a witch and her familiar not only falling in love, but they had a child together. As a result, Aika had experienced a long, arduous road to become a certified ¡®true¡¯ witch in the eyes of Holfast¡¯s council. It made her the perfect candidate to be my best friend, and the only one I trusted with my deepest secret. I finished my coffee and washed out the mug. A tingle of familiar anxiety buzzed through me, but I ignored it. I pulled out a haphazardly wrapped package from my backpack and put it on the counter amongst a mess of empty vials and browning flower stems and petals. ¡°I¡¯ve soaked the lavenders in my own speciality tonic. Hang them over your bed and mix some in your tea and it¡¯ll help, but you¡¯ll feel the results after a couple days,¡± I said, unwrapping the package. The smell of mint and ancient dirt sprung from the lavender I¡¯d collected only the day before. I yipped a little as Aika gave me a hug, her skin freezing cold. Instead of touching more of her skin, I gave her a hearty pat on the head. ¡°You¡¯re welcome!¡± I said with a soft smile. Aika twitched her ears in thanks and gave the lavenders a deep sniff. Her happiness faded for a moment, a sadness settling over her pretty features. Magic was a tricky thing. Most of the time the greater the risk, the greater the reward held true. A couple of years ago, Aika had been performing a particularly difficult spell. One small mistake had led to a permanent weakness in her once feline-strong eyes. Only with tonics and tea I happened to be very good a brewing helped. To try and brew a potion to fix it permanently would be too great a risk with her familiar-witch background. A pang of hurt always struck me when I saw that same sadness in her. I¡¯d always suspected she tried performing that spell to prove her worth as a Witch. In a lower voice, I leaned down to her ear. ¡°I¡¯m going to go see him, how¡¯s he been?¡± I whispered, eyeing the client with suspicion. Aika brushed her tail over my arm reassuringly. ¡°He¡¯s been going alright. I think he¡¯s a little bored, but other than that he¡¯s good. He¡¯s been eating more,¡± She whispered back. I left Aika to her client, grabbed my backpack and slipped into her bedroom. In the corner, a small ladder led to a hatch in the roof. Quiet as I could I went up the ladder and into the attic above. The space was surprisingly big, the air stuffy and filled with dust and air mites. But it was safe. Safe enough for my brother. Amid a mess of comics, takeaway boxes and a mattress, a young man sat flicking through an issue of The Amazing Spiderman. ¡°Liam?¡± I called out softly. He turned to look at me, and through the gloom I could see him. Bright blue hair, sharp canines and elf-like ears with a second pair of red eyes tattooed beneath his real ones. And in his mess of blue hair, a pair of bone-white stag horns. Chapter 4: The Sparrow and the Worm Chapter Four The Sparrow and the Worm ¡°Sienna!¡± Liam cried out, jumping up to give me a hug. Warmth and anxiety swirled within me as I lifted him up and gave him a spin. I cringed away a little as his horns poked into my face, and the anxiety within me rose just that little bit more. He hugged me a little more, and I remembered why it was all worth it. I¡¯ll do anything to keep you safe. I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t do more before to protect you. The words played on the tip of my tongue, but the words refused to form. Instead, I ruffled his blue hair. ¡°How¡¯s the outside world, still crazy?¡± Liam asked, flopping back down onto his mattress. I rummaged through my backpack and pulled out a bottle of strawberry milk, and a stack of his favourite comics. ¡°Still crazy. I had a client request a potion to give him the sensation of feeling like a tree. Wanted it to give him that final push into becoming a vegetarian like his girlfriend. He was willing to pay a hundred dollars for it, so I didn¡¯t have any complaints,¡± I chuckled, sitting next to him. Liam smiled a little, taking a big sip of his strawberry milk. He hasn¡¯t changed his favourite drink since he was ten. ¡°You remember that old man by Pip¡¯s Fish and Chip place?¡± I asked with a nudge. Liam giggled and nodded. ¡°He looked ancient but ran faster than a track star. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen a man run that fast all for a bottle of strawberry milk. Actually I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen anyone run for strawberry milk. But it was admirable, I think.¡± I remembered that summer afternoon with a mix of fondness and and pain. I was just fifteen, but mum had been getting worse and worse. It¡¯d seem like every time I stepped outside my room she¡¯d question where I was going, who I was talking to and if I¡¯d completed each and every task she¡¯d laid out for me that very morning. It seemed the school holidays had just given her more of an excuse to harass me. After a particularly nasty fight with her that morning, she¡¯d been in an epically foul mood. She¡¯d stalked about the apartment like a silhouette rippling with quiet rage as she passed up and down the halls. It all came to a head when she screamed at Liam for dropping a bowl of cereal on the kitchen floor. I screamed right back at her and swept my brother away to Pip¡¯s. For the rest of the summer, the local fish and chip shop became our little sanctuary. When mum got into her moods, we¡¯d escape to little shore front shop and sit beneath the degrading yellowed umbrella sharing a bundle of chips. Liam slumped against my shoulder, a sudden wave of tiredness appearing to wash over him. His hands began to shake a little, so he out his gifts down. ¡°We¡¯ll be able to go back there soon. Once I get enough money to scrounge the ingredients together for the Jackal Witch, she¡¯ll be able to formulate a cure for you. You¡¯ll be back to your old self and¡­you can come live with me if you want?¡± I offered, giving him a light kiss on the head. At that, Liam brightened. ¡°I¡¯d love that, Sienna. I -I would really love that.¡± He said, a soft note of hope in his words. ¡°Soon.¡± I gave him another hug, refusing to let him see the sorrow and guilt in my eyes. ¡°Soon.¡± ~ Central station hummed and thrummed with its usual busy crowd, but I was always able to tune it out with a hot, fresh made latte in hand. Suits and artists walk by me as I milled about, looking to the trains as they came and went. I hadn¡¯t been out of Sydney much, even with the means to do so. As a kid and a teen, mum had always been quick to remind me that our life and purpose lay within Sydney. The Council controlled all witch activity and kept keen eyes on every breed of witch to every bonded Familiar with their Red Sparrows sniffing around every corner. Our life and our destiny were forged into the water and stone alike. Worry prickled at my belly as the clocks ticked on, and I began to wonder how well I could really trust someone else from my own world. Witches, despite our collective nature tended to be more independent. But they obeyed the council, their ancient rules and ways all to keep their lives and tiny cluster societies safe from both humans and interruptions from the council.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Keeping Liam hidden away in Aika¡¯s attic was the biggest disruption I could think of. It was hard to really conceive a Familiar that could accept my crime. I took another sip of my latte and checked the clock again, and realised it¡¯d be some time before his train would get here. There was a small array of shops in the station, ranging from a Krispy Kreme, a few cafes to a little gift shop tucked away in the corner. I perused the store, admiring the little station themed keyrings and stickers. There was even an entire shelf dedicated to tiny Sydney Harbour Bridge statues. It was a weird feeling, browsing a store meant for tourists of the harbour city when I¡¯d lived here all my life. The little statues were symbols of the beauty and wealth of the city, of the hard workers that kept the city going. But to me, it¡¯d been a sight I¡¯d glanced at every morning before going to school. The store bell rung as tourists filed in and out, so I wandered to the back of the store. Tucked away in a mostly empty shelf, was a snow globe. Most of Australia lacked snow, so snow globes were few and far between. But this one stood out to me, because I¡¯d seen it before. I looked closer and realised with a start that it was in fact the very snow globe I¡¯d received as a give two years ago. From him. I felt that familiar pull as I watched a flurry of fake snow swirl in the globe until I felt that same swirl whip through me hair. I opened my eyes and realised the snow globe had worked its magic. It was a well-known trick amongst Quartz Witches, that Snow Globes could house tiny pockets of a fabricated reality. It took talent, lots of resources and a damned good Quartz Witch to pull off, however. And I¡¯d only done it once. Inside this pocket reality, I found myself standing in an eerily quiet Central Station. A shade of ashy darkness had washed over the clocks, turn-styles and ticket booths, a layer of snow on the pale cream tiles. Who left a pocket Snow Globe for me to find¡­? I breathed a heavy sigh, a thick cloud of mist curling out of my lips. Something was deeply wrong, and a twitch of fear in my stomach told me I wasn¡¯t alone in this pocket reality. A heartbeat later, I was proven right when a force landed with a powerful thud behind me and grabbed me by the neck. Like a cat throwing about a bird, the force tossed me into the shelves. I fell in a heap as chip packets and tiny Harbour Bridges rained down on me, the shelf sheltering me from a follow up attack as it landed onto the next shelf. Fear sent my heart thumping in my chest and I scrambled wildly out of the tiny gift shop. The sound of the rapid beating of wings swept behind me, and in a rush of wind a dark shadow landed atop a ticket both, its wings darkening the snowy platform. I squinted and when I realised who stood before me, the breath was snuffed from my lungs like a suffocated candle flame. Damien. My ex-boyfriend. He was a Red Sparrow, yet his wings were black and lined with silver. There was¡­something wrong with him. I couldn¡¯t quite explain it, but Red Sparrows always had an air of authority about them. But there was no authority emanating from him, just malice. Perched atop the ticket booth, his wings folded at his sides he resembled a gothic gargoyle. A guardian trapped in stone, forever watching those that walked beneath him. His dreads were coiled up into a bun, a few dangling over his brown eyes, darkened by the intensity in which he stared down at me. Even perched, he was tall, his broad shoulders tensed. The long black feathers of his wings stirred, reminding me of his realness. And the fact he¡¯d just thrown me through a gift shop like a chew toy. Fear pumped through me once again and I tried to get to my feet. But he was faster. With a lightning fast swish of his wings, Damien leapt from his perch and landed atop of me. With his wings stretched wide, he created a dark dome around us. He was close enough I could feel the heat of his breath against my nose. ¡°Damien, what¡¯s wrong with you?¡± I whispered, searching his eyes desperately. His features gave away nothing. He raised a hand and I couldn¡¯t help but flinch, yet he only grazed his gloved finger tips down the length of my jaw. ¡°Things are changing, love. You¡¯re going to need to catch-up. Join us. Before it¡¯s too late,¡± Damien said, his voice dangerously low. My heartbeat faster at his touch. From fear, or memory of what his touch did to me, I didn¡¯t know. ¡°Join what, Damien? Please. Why did you pull me into a Snow Globe¡­did you corrupt the one I gave you? Our little reality-¡± I whispered, hating how weak my words felt pouring out of me. I felt pathetic, but I couldn¡¯t stop. ¡°You¡¯re running out of time. You have to leave the old ways-¡± What looked like desperation filled his eyes a moment before he was interrupted. Reality shattered around us. Cracks appeared in the roof of the station. The tiles, the snow, even the gift shop as it all fell away and reality pulled me back with an unforgiving, forceful pull. I gasped sharply as I felt myself fall back into the corner of the store, but before I could crumple to the ground, powerful arms caught me. My boots skidded on the floor wet with the innards of the snow globe now smashed on the ground. My heart lurched and I looked up, expecting Damien. It was my new familiar that looked down at me, his amber gaze unreadable. Chapter 5: A Feline Fiasco Chapter Five A Feline Fiasco ¡°Alistair?¡± I said, more voice barely above a whisper. His hand ran across my shoulders as if to check if I were truly there. ¡°Ma¡¯am. Sienna Montgomery, I¡¯m glad my train arrived when it did. Are you alright?¡± His voice was low and quiet, yet powerful. Yet I tore my eyes away from the amber glow of his to peer into the crowd. The tail of a black coat disappeared just as I looked, and with an inward sigh I knew Damien was out of my reach. Yet, his mysterious words remained burnt into my brain. Why attack me, then warn me Damien? ¡°Sienna?¡± The Familiar¡¯s powerful voice broke through my daze, the sound of my own name snapping me back to reality. I looked back to my saviour, a blush blooming in my cheeks despite myself. Most Familiar¡¯s were tall, strong creatures but, Alistair was perhaps even larger than Robert. He was thinner, yet it was not doubt powerful, lean muscles flexed beneath his black coat. His hair was a deep, coal-black, waves tucked behind his ears and running down to shoulders. Shadows crept beneath his amber eyes despite the alert look on his face. A few black freckles sprinkled his nose, a his dark brown skin that was beautiful even beneath the harsh yellow light of the gift-store. I felt my throat catch a touch, and looked away to the grimy floor. ¡°Yes?¡± I croaked, my voice small. I tried very hard to ignore his hand on my shoulder, or how close I was to his chest. ¡°If you¡¯re quite alright, may I ask where the nearest ramen place is?¡± Alistair asked. I looked back up at my saviour and twitched my nose. ¡°Let¡¯s make it my treat.¡± ~ We walked past the piers and against the cold ocean breeze of Sydney Harbour foreshore as we both slurped our take-away ramen down. Sliding his satchel down beside him, Alistair inhaled his noodles in a way that I suspect would make Robert proud. However, he walked without the same confidence and without the threatening aura that my old Familiar always seemed to carry. Maybe that¡¯s a good thing. I found a step right by the water that overlooked the more beautiful parts of the harbour, including the Sydney Harbour Bridge itself. Crowds of tourists bustled about, eager to snap photos and move on to the next big thing. We sat close, my thigh touching his rather warm black coat. We sat in silence for a while, enjoying the murmur of the crowd, the food and lull of the waves softly lapping against the break-wall. Every now and then, I managed to sneak a glance at my new guardian. Despite the intensity of his eyes, they was a softness to them. It seemed he was always thinking of something, his attention pulled somewhere far away. It tickled my curiosity. I wanted to know more about him. More than what some manilla file could tell me. ¡°So, Alistair. Have you been a Familiar before?¡± I asked, my voice a touch quieter than I wanted it to be. I cleared my throat and chucked my takeaway bowl in the trash. The distance in his eyes closed, and he seemed to fixate on the seagulls hunting about the steps for dropped morsels of food. He took another moment before he responded. ¡°Twice.¡± I waited for him to elaborate. He did not. I couldn¡¯t bear to let the silence stretch on, so I jumped to my feet. ¡°I was wondering¡­how did you know I was trapped in the snow globe?¡± I asked, putting my hands into the pockets of my pink jacket. Alistair still refused to look me in the eyes. Instead, he continued to watch the seagulls. Even as he spoke, I watched as his human iris shrunk into that of a cat¡¯s eye. It made my stomach twist. ¡°We Familiar¡¯s are adept at sniffing out danger. We have no bond, but magical artefacts are obvious. They have a certain¡­smell. Robert told me you would be waiting for me, so when my train arrived and you were nowhere to be seen I went looking for the woman Robert described. I found the snow globe and the scent of your perfume could only assume you¡¯d been trapped inside.¡± Alistair said, his thumb tapping on his leg. ¡°Uh. Robert described my perfume to you?¡± I asked, a wave of embarrassment washing over me. I knew it made logical sense for a Familiar to identify their charge with a recognisable sign such as scent and yet it was embarrassing all the same. Alistair nodded and I spun around to stare at the water. Oh, god. I need to stop blushing like I¡¯m some teenager talking to her crush for the first time. I¡¯m his boss and, well he seems like he really knows what he¡¯s doing. He¡¯s a bit odd but so am I. I should get to know him more before I decide anything. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Holfast has sent my employment contract on the wings of one of their Red Sparrows. It¡¯d be nice if they could use email.¡± Alistair said, curling noodles onto his chopsticks. I chuckled and nodded. ¡°True. They¡¯re very outdated and honestly, I doubt they¡¯ll ever change.¡± I said with a shrug, the tightness in my stomach easing. I¡¯m starting to have a good feeling about you, Alistair. I gave him a small smile, and he returned the same. The moment was cut short when a young girl with shining golden hair swept past the both of us and snatched Alistair¡¯s satchel. Quick as a cat Alistair leapt to his feet and whipped around with a ferocious hiss. ¡°That¡¯s mine!¡± He yelled, the boom of his voice scaring the crowd of tourists. They eagerly parted out of his way as he raced after the thief. Heart thundering, I followed. Well, as quickly as I could in my Doc Martens. Pavement and stone slipped underfoot as I weaved through the crowd, shoving aside backpacks and sweaty teenagers out of my way, charging after Alistair¡¯s black coat. The thief moved quick as the fox, slipping into an alley and darting down the street. We followed quick as we could, the ocean wind howling past my ears and whipping into my eyes. Alistair followed the golden-haired thief through the streets, never faltering from his target. I began to draw back, running out of steam with every sudden turn of a corner. Despite his keen focus, we were losing her. Ah, shit. Need to think, what do I have on me? Hmm¡­right! One vial of Shifter¡¯s Shimmer. I skidded to a halt as we rounded into another alley. ¡°Alistair wait!¡± I shouted. To my surprise he halted and spun around at my shout. I waved him over and motioned to a black cat curled up happily asleep on top of a garbage bin. Panting, he looked to me incredulously. I pulled the vial from underneath my shirt popped the cork. ¡°Shifter¡¯s Shimmer will let us catch up with her, we just need a few hairs,¡± I said, prodding the black cat awake. The feline wrinkled its nose and stretched with a yawn as it rose. It only occurred to me in that moment that I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to go about politely asking a cat for some of its fur. ¡°Uh¡­¡± I mumbled, fiddling with the vile. Alistair crouched, sweeping his cloak behind him. The cat regarded him from a moment and gave him a soft meow. In that low voice of his, he spoke to the cat in an odd, raspy language. He paused with every other word like he was rusty and was trying to remember what came next. The cat gave a few meows and reply and tugged some fur from his belly. Alistair murmured a reply and took the fur with a grateful nod. It was my turn to give Alistair an incredulous look. ¡°You speak Felinix?¡± I asked, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. I stuffed the fur into the vial and popped the cork in. Alistair simply shrugged with a small, shy smile. As the fur mixed with the potion it glowed, fizzling with glitter. My heart raced, anticipating both the chase and the feeling of the potion working its magic within me. Not often I drink my own work, but, hey this calls for it. Besides, they¡¯re only worth up $35. ¡°This¡¯ll help catch our thief,¡± I said. I took a swig of the vial, drinking half. Alistair took the vial and drank his half and quickly the magic took hold. I felt it vibrate all throughout me, shimmering over my skin like a sun-shower. In a burst of glitter, we transformed. The first thing I noticed, was that I had a tail. It was pink, fluffy with a white tip. The second, was that we were already running. On four paws we followed the heavy scent of Sichuan peppercorn that clung to the thief¡¯s clothes. Alistair was a black cat with white paws, leading the way as we raced up and down the streets of Sydney. Our paws scrabbled up roofs and down fences, dodging dogs barking angrily from yards and wove and ducked under pedestrians¡¯ feet until we reached China Town. My senses exploded with sound and smells, dragons and their pearls watched over us as we trotted through the busy crowds. Alistair, a much larger cat led the way. With a few flicks of his tail, he motioned to a spice shop to the left of the square. The smells were the most complex and heavy here. Cautious now, I followed at a tail-length behind as Alistair crept into the shop. Spice racks filled the shop, with sacks of rice piled on a wood palette. A young girl sat behind the counter, air-pods in while she scrolled on her phone. The shadows curled around us as we padded through the shop, desperately trying to seek out some other sign of the thief. Without the scent of peppercorn, I was forced to rely on my other senses to sniff her out. Keeping to walls of the store we skirted the old carpet and slipped past the counter to the staircase behind. With feline grace, we leapt onto the old wooden handrail and skittered up the second floor. We leapt onto the landing and pushed our way into the little storeroom. Alistair brushed his tail against me, crouching low as we entered the musty room. ¡°That¡¯s two odd looking cats.¡± A voice hissed through the low-light. In a puff of glitter and cat fur, I transformed back into my normal self. And I was left on the floor on all fours. Alistair sprung up beside me, brushing off his coat with a low, rumbling growl. The blonde-haired thief tossed Alistair¡¯s satchel over to him. He caught it with ease, but the anger in his scowl did not subside. Even in the low light, is clear to see she was beautiful. Her golden hair ran like honey-golden threads of sunlight down her shoulders, framing a sharp jaw that accentuated her humourless smirk. ¡°I reiterate. Weird looking cats,¡± She scoffed. ¡°Why¡¯d you steal his bag?¡± I asked, balling my hands into fists. She clicked her tongue. ¡°I¡¯m not the thief, Sienna. Liam Montgomery is. He bears something within him that is not his. Where is he?¡± She asked. Fear shot through me like a bolt of lightning. The ends of my fingertips felt fried, the words sluggish and unnatural in my mouth. But I would do anything to protect my brother. Not even my own fear would stop me. So I let my face betray nothing. ¡°He¡¯s in Holfast for his crime. He¡¯ll remain there for the rest of his sentence until the Council announces his trial. Thanks for reminding me,¡± I said, willing my voice to not waver. She¡¯s not a witch. At least, I don¡¯ think she is. There¡¯s no reason for her to know of the inner workings of Holfast¡­or that a prisoner escaped the council. The thief clicked her tongue again. She leant forward, some of the light coming from the window revealing her face. There was something deadly in her eyes. A hunger, a need I couldn¡¯t quite understand. ¡°We¡¯ll find him, Sienna. And when we do, he¡¯ll give it back.¡± The Tip of the Claw For the next week, anxiety followed in my wake like a prickly shadow. Keeping little contact with Liam was safer, but without knowing he was safe every day was liable to drive me insane. My mind ping-ponged between my instincts screaming at me to run. Use my savings to get out of Sydney, take Liam and dive deep into the outback. Become one of those wild witches that live in solitary, eating tourists every now and then. But reason would trickle in, a fickle reminder that we can¡¯t go anywhere without curing his curse. Why did you take this curse, Liam? I never should¡¯ve left you with Mum¡­ Even in the time I¡¯d managed to steal away to the loft and see him, he¡¯d never confessed as to why or how he¡¯d managed to steal the Curse of the Stag. A considerably powerful curse, unstable and dangerous even in a fully grown and trained witch. I needed to lie low, but I was also desperate to stretch my legs. The city outside was shrouded in fog, the thick cold whirling about as I walked the local coffee place. I threw on a black t-shirt with a pink wool sweater over the to, wrapping the ends around my hands to try and keep them warm. My satchel bounced at my side, carrying my phone, keys, Opal Card and a tiny vial of invisibility. Up against a Sparrow with unparalleled tracking abilities, it wouldn¡¯t do much except buy me some time. But against muggers or any other creatures, it would help me to slip into the shadows. In a caf¨¦ littered with ferns and sunflowers, I waited for my latte and drank in the smell of coffee. As the beans roasted and I let myself sink into the chatter of the patrons, I could let myself forget about everything for just a moment. Once I had my latte in hand, I made my way over to the waterside path. Around here, things were mostly concrete and old exposed brick, the waters of the harbour grey or brown. It was still nice, though, to sit on the cement guard and watch the sea gulls hop from rock to rock, singing to one another. As I scrolled through my phone absent-mindedly, a notification from a news app flashed. Third fire in a week. Another caf¨¦ burnt to the ground. Police suspect a repeat arsonist. Seeing that the fire had taken place only a short walk away, I decided to walk by and have a look. Fires consuming building after building, in such a short time without touching the other buildings on the block? It was odd, and certainly peaked my interest. Doing such things on a whim was one of the many things that brought me joy and guilt. Because it was a freedom I wasn¡¯t ever afforded as a kid or teen. From the moment I woke up, I had train, memorise, and practice the craft. I scarcely even spent time in Rook, the apartment block we called home. My days were mostly spent in Holfast, every minute dictated by my Mother. It was a fate I¡¯d left Liam too, while I chased my own freedom. I just have to keep selling my potions and pray he¡¯s safe. It was a funny thing, the faith of a witch. Complicated, too. Witches came from all over the world, from every culture, race and religion. Despite this many still held faith in the Maiden, Mother and Crone. Some religiously, while others simply honoured her. Despite Mother¡¯s intense worship of the triple-goddess, it¡¯d never really stuck with me. By the time I arrived at the caf¨¦, smoke was still rising from the remnants of the building. Most of the street was cordoned off, firefighters inspecting the area alongside a few cops. Just as I¡¯d felt earlier, I could sense something strange about this. So entwined in my own thoughts, I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone tapped on my shoulder. ¡°Sienna it¡¯s okay it¡¯s just me,¡± A deep, soothing voice laxed my grip on the invisibility potion in my satchel. ¡°Alistair,¡± I sigh, relief flooding me at the sight of tall, quiet familiar. His hands are tucked into a long grey coat, his black hair tied into a ponytail, bangs framing a frowning face. ¡°You could¡¯ve called on me to escort you,¡± He said, the tip of his nose twitching ever so slightly. I shrug, folding my arms over my chest. ¡°I¡¯m fine. I don¡¯t need my Familiar with me every time I step outside my apartment. How did you know I was even here?¡± I ask, a little concerned that my new Familiar was becoming too protective. Alistair looked back to the smoking building. ¡°I didn¡¯t. I followed instincts. Why¡¯re you here?¡± He asked, standing a little closer to me. Oddly enough, having him this close made me a little¡­nervous. It was weird. Robert had never made me feel uncomfortable at all. ¡°I was out and well, things seemed kind of suspicious. The fire only ever damaged the building it started in and there¡¯s been multiple this week. Feel like doing some investigating?¡± I asked, a playful smile on my lips. Alistair raised an eyebrow but nodded. Together, we tracked our way back through each location of the previous fires. Each location mirrored one another, the place was reduced to nothing, but didn¡¯t even touch the laundromat next door. From each place, we collected an item significant to the place. Signs, tickets and old coffee cups gathered, we returned to my apartment. Alistair seemed to try and make himself seem small as possible, peering around at my collection of plants, the tapestries hanging over the walls and oddly shaped pottery scattered about the place. ¡°A bunch of rubbish?¡± He murmured, arms folded as he watched me arrange them on the floor behind the couch. I peered up him and gave him a little smile. Robert for the my part never questioned magic, spells or how any of it worked. He respected the mystery of it, and how sometimes magic didn¡¯t quite follow the human notion of logic. But Alistair is young and maybe he hasn¡¯t had a Witch before me. Just because he isn¡¯t human doesn¡¯t mean he wouldn¡¯t wonder about the complexities of magic. It had taken years and years of training, meditation and guidance to truly know and practice magic. Endless days spent in the libraries of Holfast under my Mother¡¯s watchful eye, forging every words in the tomes into my minds eye. I had to live up to my Mother after all, one of the most powerful Witches in all of Australia. I placed each object a little apart from one another in a neat circle. Within the circle and between the objects, I spread a handful of apricot seeds. Then, I took my necklace and wrapped it around my knuckles, the quartz glowing a soft pink.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Alistair crouched beside me and watched, curiosity glimmering in his dark eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a form of a scrying spell. Stone and water will reveal the memories of the objects, and with a little guidance I can try and get some specific information from it.¡± I said as I began to guide the quartz over the circle. The crystal glowed brighter and brighter and a hum rang out, growing louder until the seeds began to crack. Alistair said nothing, sitting with his legs crossed as the spell began to work. The tip of his boot tapped my thigh, and I tried to ignore the way I liked this subtle touch. Well, did save me back at Central. It¡¯s normal for a Witch to want to be close with her Familiar. Robert and I hugged all the time, so¡­ I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts away and focus entirely on the scrying spell. For a spell to work accurately, the Witch must give all her attention and power to it. The incense of the library floods my nose, the ancient pages between my fingers and crackle of the hearth in my ears for a moment as the words of the tomes flash behind my eyelids. Vines grew from the seeds, interlacing with one another until they formed a circle. The essence of the objects glowed. ¡°Can you grab me a cup of water, please?¡± I ask sheepishly. You¡¯re the witch here. He¡¯s the Familiar. It¡¯s okay to ask him for things. Alistair went to the kitchen, and after some haphazard directions on my part he returned with a glass of water. Gently as I could, I poured the water into the circle. Then, slowly, I lowered the Quartz until the tip of the crystal touched the water. I took a deep breath and willed the objects to answer me. ¡°If I¡¯m going to figure out who¡¯s the arsonist, what should I ask first?¡± I asked, opening one eye to look to Alistair. He shrugged. ¡°Who¡¯s the arsonist?¡± He said with a small smile. ¡°Very helpful,¡± I sighed. With both eyes closed, I tried to think. Whoever has been burning these places down has probably been frequenting the caf¨¦ or the area surrounding it. If he¡¯s using Drake¡¯s Fingers then he would have to have enough money to have bought at least two vials¡­or perhaps make them himself. Or herself. ¡°Who visited these places with the intent to destroy?¡± I ask, drawing on the strength of my quartz. The power flowed into the waters, and sent a ripple through it. Alistair and I peered into the water, and saw a group of five. Two siblings with pale skin and white hair, a young black man with a silver coat, a young Chinese man with long black hair and¡­the girl with the golden hair. Alistair and I exchanged a wide-eyed look. ¡°Ah. So a thief and an arsonist?¡± He said. He cocked his head to the side and bit his thumb, thinking. ¡°Seems part of something bigger. Something that¡¯s looking for my brother,¡± I said, feeling my stomach twist itself into a knot. I couldn¡¯t hide the anxiety that shadowed my face. ¡°Where is your brother?¡± Alistair asked innocently. The words became caught and tangled in my throat, so I bit my lip instead of letting them escape. ¡°Holfast. He¡¯s safe, with magic and a flock of Red Sparrows to keep anyone from getting in. Have you been?¡± I ask, hoping my voice didn¡¯t come out sounding like a robot. Alistair looked me over, then got his feet. He walked around the living room, pacing in a circle. ¡°No. I haven¡¯t had a Witch of my own in Australia.¡± Was all he said as he continued to pace about. Wonder what had him leave his first Witch. I hope she didn¡¯t die. I need someone good at his job right now. Well. I also need someone I can trust with the whole Liam situation. But I just can¡¯t be too careful. He¡¯s not exactly a man of many words, so maybe he is the right fit. ¡°Why burn down cafes¡­and why so quickly, one after the other in one week. Even without the help of magic they¡¯re bound to get caught,¡± I said quietly to myself. I circled the quartz again, letting the rhythm and hum pick up. Then, I stopped. Alistair gave a small start when I scrambled to my feet and dashed over to my pile of paper, notes and files on cabinet by the door. From the pile I pulled out a crinkled map of Sydney and folded it out onto the dining table, knocking over a candle or two. ¡°You have a phone, right?¡± Alistair asked, watching me roll out the bends and kinks on the paper. ¡°Don¡¯t be such a millennial. One of the most powerful part of a witch¡¯s tools is a map. The material it¡¯s made from, memories it soaks in and depiction of the land lends itself to magic in a way of digital one can¡¯t. Plus, my phone¡¯s charging right now.¡± From my assortment of tools of the craft, I took a small bag with golden runes sewn into the velvet fabric. I poured the contents onto the table, watching the smoothed amethysts tumble from the bag and onto the map. Then, I positioned each onto every targeted caf¨¦. It was the beginnings of a rune. For a witch, runes and their meanings were a second language. Alistair however looked at the rocks, the map, then me, like I was mad. ¡°I¡¯m nearly certain the arsonist is a witch. They¡¯re using spells and Drake¡¯s Claw to burn the buildings, followed by brief to mark out a rune made of burnt buildings.¡± ¡°And¡­what rune would that be?¡± ¡°The rune of expulsion. This group must be pretty angry.¡± I dragged my finger down the map, twisting around streets, alleys and across a park. ¡°And if I¡¯m correct on what rune they¡¯re drawing, then the next target is the Herron, a bar downtown, today most likely.¡± Alistair balled his hands into fists and led the way. ¡°Let¡¯s not waste any time then.¡± Before I could hastily stuff some potions into my satchel, I followed my eager Familiar instead, trusting in the strength of the black maned lion. ** On the way to the bar, fat, grey clouds clustered in the sky. A light rain washed over the city, but none were bothered by it. It was the Sydney way of things. No matter the weather, you continued on your business. It seemed some cars went even faster in this weather. Despite my sweater, I wrapped my arms around my chest and tried to ignore the rain as it slicked down my hair. ¡°Here,¡± Alistair¡¯s soft but deep voice said. He¡¯d draped his jacket over my shoulders. The thickness of his coat and his warmth kept the cold away, and in that moment I had no idea what to say. So instead, I awkwardly nodded. Oh, what a terrifying boss you are. My heart sunk a little, unable to avoid the failures that had led me here. If I was more powerful, the golden-haired witch wouldn¡¯t be a bother. Maybe even the Jackal Witch would create my cure for free, and I could be sure she¡¯d keep quiet about it. If I was a terrifying force of nature like mother, no one would dare threaten me. I didn¡¯t think there¡¯d ever be a day were I wished to be more like mother. But here I am. I grabbed his coat, and tugged it closer around me. It smelled of jasmine. By the time we arrived at the Herron, I could scent the magic in the air. It was thick and resonant, similar to the stale scents that had clung to each of the buildings. Thankfully, the place was closed and it didn¡¯t seem like anyone was around. Except for the man standing across the street beneath the shelter of a deli, downing a vial of bright orange liquid. Drakes claws. Fear ripped through me like a savage beast and all I could do was point and shout, ¡°Alistair!¡± With the speed and power of a lion, Alistair tore across the street and tackled the man to the ground. I followed, splashing through the puddles littered over the road. The traffic lights above us clicked, flicking to red. A deep, thunderous growl erupted from Alistair, pressing the man down into the concrete, his hands pinned down. As he wriggled beneath my familiar, I could see his face. He was one of them. ¡°What the hell do you think you¡¯re doing, using Drakes Claws and destroying people¡¯s livelihoods?¡± I snapped. There was a wild fury in his hazel eyes, a grey sullenness to his skin. He thrashed about, snarling. ¡°I¡¯m doing it to protect young witches and warlocks in this city since no-one else will. And I¡¯m sending a message to those Silver Feather fuckers.¡± Chapter 7: Shadow and Gold I¡¯d never kept anyone prisoner before, so I wasn¡¯t sure on the rules. I offered him water, some snacks even. With Alistair¡¯s strength, we¡¯d managed to get him back to my apartment without drawing too much attention. Except for the odd sight of smoke twisting from his fingers. Tied up to a chair in my living room, we managed to get a name. Hao. I sat on my table, and rolled the amethysts about in the pouch. Alistair sat on my couch, amber eyes boring into our prisoner. He was harmless for the most part, it seemed. The power and fire of Drakes Claws was intense, but quick. He was probably experiencing quite the potion hangover, though. ¡°Tell us about the Silver Feather.¡± I said, trying my best to sound tough and commanding. Hao didn¡¯t even glance my way, continuing to stare blankly at the wall. I blew a raspberry at him, fed up with his stubborn silence. In place of the feral anger that had possessed him before, there was a stony silence to him. He was unshaved, with dark, tired rings beneath his eyes and a sickly paleness to him. He had short, messy black hair and hazel eyes that betrayed nothing. I leant my head back with a groan. ¡°Don¡¯t you have a spell or something you could use?¡± Alistair asked, picking at his teeth. I went and made a cup of tea and wrinkled my nose at the idea. ¡°It¡¯s both unethical and against the rules of Holfast for Witches to use the Craft against one another. Especially a truth spell.¡± I said, then poured the hot water into my favourite black mug. My phone, charging on the kitchen counter, made a bright piano note, a text flashing on screen. James: You and Robert ready for a classy double date? ;) Ur fav Korean BBQ place at 8. Cya then! I heart reacted the message, then stared at the back of Hao¡¯s head. Balancing life as a human going about her life in Sydney and a Witch had been simple for the most part. Before I became a criminal. From my fruit bowl I picked up an apple and laid it down in front of Hao. ¡°I¡¯m going out tonight. I need you to stay here and guard him, okay? I¡¯m casting a Circle of The Hidden around him so if someone comes around they won¡¯t see us both committing a crime. Please give him water and food,¡± I said. With a piece of chalk I drew a circle around him, with the runes for transparency, silence and sight drawn within. A ripple similar to a ripple of heat emerged around him as the spell worked its magic. The apple sat on the runes and slowly its life and essence would be drained in exchange for the magic. ¡°Are you sure?¡± Alistair asked, a note of concern in his voice. I tossed Robert¡¯s keys from the key bowl over to my new Familiar who caught them with ease. ¡°Yeah. I won¡¯t be out long.¡± ** After some debate as to whether to bring potions with me, I decided to go without. I was only dinner and James knew what I was. I waited outside my apartment block, clutching my purse as I waited for my rideshare to show up. Distracted with thoughts of Hao, the Silver Feather and my brother, I didn¡¯t notice the second person in the rideshare at first. Then, he whispered my name. ¡°Damien?¡± I gasped, flinching away into the corner of the seat. Dressed in a black suit, silver rings gleaming in the flashes street-lights he was a smirk made Sparrow. He rested his arm up on the seat and shuffled a little closer to me. ¡°You¡¯re an open book, aren¡¯t you?¡± He chuckled, looking me up and down. I gripped the seat, wrinkling my nose at him. ¡°Why¡­Jesus Damien how did you know I¡¯d be in this car?¡± I groaned, examining the driver. He appeared like a normal ride-share driver, and he was headed towards the restaurant. Well, at least I don¡¯t think I¡¯m getting kidnapped. ¡°Black dress, simple silver necklace. Tight, but not too tight. You¡¯re going out, probably seeing friends and want to look nice. But you haven¡¯t gone all out, so it¡¯s not a date. Would you like it to be?¡± He asked, waiting to gauge my reaction. I gave him a thin-lipped frown and tucked a pink curl behind me ear. ¡°If you can read me like a book then read the page where it says I¡¯m not interested in whatever web of bullshit you¡¯re trying to draw me into. I¡¯m living my own life, so please stay out of it,¡± I snapped, refusing to meet his gaze. ¡°Hey,¡± Damien said, softly. The gentle note in his voice tugged at my heart, despite the tough front I was trying to put on. When I looked to him, he stroked my jaw with his thumb, just like he used to. I didn¡¯t flinch away this time. It had been¡­quite a while since I¡¯d been with anyone. The last relationship I¡¯d had, had been with Damien. It¡¯d ended badly enough, so I¡¯d had little to no interest in pursuing anything else for a while. Being so close with him again, his voice soft and soothing me the way it used to and his touch¡­it felt like a drug was surging through my veins, blocking out all other senses. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you; you know. And I owe you an explanation for what happened the other day at Central. It¡¯s the least I owe you, really,¡± he said, cupping half my face in the warmth of his palm. In the warmth of his touch, memories come rushing like water from a river. After escaping the apartments of the Rook and my mother¡¯s overbearing clutches, I¡¯d quickly found the indulgences of freedom. Damien himself was the embodiment of such freedoms. Nights without sleep, nightlife hidden in the unseeming corners of Sydney, smoke slipping from our lips and faint brush of his wings wrapped around me. ¡°Alright. Shoot, what happened in Central?¡± I asked, sliding close enough that our thighs touched. Damien clicked his tongue. ¡°You¡¯re owed an explanation, but I still need something,¡± he said, tapping my nose.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. I sighed. ¡°And what could you need from me?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Hang out with me tonight.¡± I tap his nose in reply. ¡°Can¡¯t. Got a double date tonight,¡± I said, thoughts wandering to James. ¡°Three people isn¡¯t a double date.¡± ¡°Then what is it?¡± ¡°Embarrassing.¡± I felty a little stab in my stomach but realised maybe he was right. Who showed up to a double date all by themselves? God, maybe I should¡¯ve just called Robert. ¡°Fine. Just dinner, though. Then you pay for the ride home and explain everything, okay?¡± Damien grinned. ¡°A date it is.¡± The Korean restaurant was a mix of high heels clicking against tiles, the soft ring of wine glasses glancing off one another, the sizzle of meat and heavy scents of the soups and spices from the kitchens. A soft piano jazz played and as Damien wound an arm around my waist, I couldn¡¯t help but feel transported back to a time before. I tried to ignore the electric buzz that rushed through me as he followed me through the tangle of people and waiters until we found James and his date. Maybe he¡¯s changed. Maybe I¡¯ve changed enough that things could be different between us. The buzz dissipated as quickly as it came, and my stomach felt like a stone when I recognised James¡¯ date. The girl with the golden hair. One of those responsible for the fires. The smile on James¡¯ face quickly faded when he saw Damien¡¯s arm around me. ¡°Hey, Sien,¡± James said, one arm over the golden hair girl¡¯s shoulders, the other fiddling with his set of with chopsticks. The girl looked to me with a smug look, leaning her head onto James¡¯ shoulder. Panic fluttered in my chest, the looks all three of them were giving me was too much. What the fuck? ¡°I, um. I¡¯m going to the bathroom,¡± I murmured, clutching my purse tightly as I retreated. In the quiet solace of the bathroom, I splashed some water onto my face, taking in some deep breaths. I looked in the mirror, seeing how plain the fear was on my face. I needed to calm down. To focus. I can¡¯t show them how freaked out I am. I mean I immediately ran away to the bathroom, but still¡­ ¡°Hey,¡± A voice whispered in my ear, warm breath rushing over my skin. I jumped a little and spun around. Damien stood over me, his arms locking me against the stone basin. In that moment, with everything coming in to crush me into dust, he was an oasis amongst it all. Because he was a remanent, a memory of everything happy I had before Liam had taken on the curse and plunged us both into chaos. He cupped my face with his hand, brushing a few pink strands back. Damien pressed his forehead against mine, and just like that I felt my walls crumble and I melted into his embrace and kissed him. He kissed me back, victorious in the way he bit my lip and pulled me close with his usual intensity. I curled my hands around his neck, fingers brushing against his dreads as he pulled my hips against his. When we broke away, I could scarcely catch my breath. I looked up to his depthless brown eyes and stroked his chin. ¡°You owe me answers, Damien. C¡¯mon,¡± I said softly. His eyes flicked to the floor, then me. ¡°Alright, alright. I went about things poorly in Central, I get that. But we¡¯re running out of time so I thought I¡¯d go for the most direct approach I could with the snow-globe. I want to bring you into the fold. There¡¯s a new power growing in Sydney, something that can rival Holfast. And¡­I¡¯m part of it. I want you to be part of it too.¡± Damien said, an intensity in his words to match how he kissed. And just like that, the spell broke. A new power that could rival Holfast? That could be my only hope, and my only hope for Liam. But it sounds too good to be true. Besides, James¡¯ date isn¡¯t just looking for my brother. She¡¯s hunting him. And now Damien is part of this group too, trying to slide his way back into my life? I¡¯ve walked right into a trap. Like I¡¯d practiced a million times as a child and teenager in the face of my mother¡¯s wrath, I didn¡¯t let my fear show. ¡°How about we talk more about it after dinner? Honestly anything that could stand up to my mother and her precious Council sounds promising to me,¡± I said, giving him my most mischievous smile. After a moment, he smiled back and gave me a kiss on my forehead. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s do that.¡± When we returned to the table and ordered our food, the awkwardness seemed to dissipate like morning mist. Especially when the alcohol began to flow. At first, James introduced the golden haired as Jiao and ordered her a cocktail, followed by Damien ordering himself a beer. While on the outside I laughed, flirted with Damien and let his hand circle my back, I felt my fear and instincts writhe within. Jiao acted as though she didn¡¯t know me, as though this were a game of cat and mouse. Instead, she looked to James dreamily and they described their first meeting. ¡°She kind of saved my whole presentation. I was missing half my slides when she came in, went off-script and told the class about proper chrysanthemum breeding. Basically she saved me from eternal embarrassment in every class for the next two years,¡± James chuckled, hugging Jiao a little closer. She grinned and took a long drink of her cocktail. ¡°Would¡¯ve been cruel to let you flail like that in front of everyone,¡± Jiao giggled. As we ate and continued to drink, my fingers itched to text Alistair and reach out for help, but it¡¯d be impossible to do without Damien noticing. Anxiety flickered beneath my skin, but I kept still, focusing on James. He didn¡¯t seem spelled. My friend kept his focus, never appearing confused as to why he was saying what he was saying, gazing into the distance desperate to figure out what was on the tip of his tongue. His eyes weren¡¯t glassy, either. He was focused entirely on his gorgeous date. But he was still in danger. He was trapped between a rebel Witch and a rogue Sparrow, whop intended to hunt down my brother for the curse that was slowly killing him, bit by bit. For every sip of the countless line of cocktails Damien insisted he buy for me, I drank half a cup of water and twice as much food as I usually would. Before I could sense how much time had truly passed, we were all whisked into a rideshare and arriving at James¡¯ house. My fingers itched to reach for my phone countless times over, but I ignored it. Instead, I kept an eye on James with an exaggerated smile and drunken slur to my words. Damien kept an arm around my shoulders, guiding me. James and Jiao slumped on the couch together, cuddling as they scrolled through James¡¯ phone together. ¡°Where¡¯re we going?¡± I asked, emphasising my giddiness with a giggle. Damien didn¡¯t say anything. He just smiled. On the second floor we went and stood on the balcony from which we could catch a glimpse of the water in the harbour. ¡°I think you¡¯d bring a lot to the Silver Feather, Sien. You¡¯re a lot more powerful than you realise,¡± Damien said, leaning on the railing. He gazed out to the harbour, his voice distant. He seems distracted¡­maybe I can use this¡­ ¡°I um, need to use the bathroom real quick,¡± I slurred, making for the sliding door. Before I could reach the handle door, he grabbed my wrist. Fear shot through me and in that moment I knew the alarm on my face was obvious. I looked to his eyes and saw a darkness had shadowed them. ¡°It¡¯s simple, Sien. You¡¯re with us or against us.¡¯ His grip grew tighter. I yelped, struggling to get away. Within the blink of an eye, his grey wings appeared, stirring the cold night air around us. ¡°Damien!¡± I plead, tears quickly forming in my eyes. His face remained stony, unmoved. ¡°You¡¯re with us, or against us,¡± Damien repeated, unfurling his wings to their full span, blocking the stars and the light of the moon. In that moment, all I could was cower, my legs shaking. But before Damien could force an answer from me, it was his turn to yelp with pain. Above him, standing atop the railings with the balance of a feline, Alistair stood over him, snarling. A powerful rumbling growl of a lion sounded from his chest, a hand crushing Damien¡¯s shoulder. Like a lion tossing a hyena aside, Alistair shoved Damien out of the way. Like a strong, silent shadow, my new Familiar swept me up into his arms and made the jump from the balcony down onto James¡¯ patio. I clutched Alistair¡¯s sweater, burying my head into the warmth of his chest. ¡°What about James?¡± I murmured, trying to look over his shoulder. Alistair walked us out the gate and headed down the street. ¡°He¡¯ll be okay. They won¡¯t touch him, his brother is always protecting him,¡± Alistair said, his voice still carrying the rumble of the lion¡¯s growl. I clutched him tighter. ¡°I¡¯m gonna get you home, okay?¡± He murmured, his voice low. As he carried me home, I felt safe in his arms in a way I hadn¡¯t ever before.