Humans Bite Back

Finding a place to stash the grimoire once we got home was a more formidable task than I had anticipated. I had finally decided to gut an old gaming system that I had held onto after the gaming system itself had fallen out of popularity and the games had been discontinued.

It was devastating, but I felt the grimoire had priority, so I took a tiny screwdriver to pry the system apart and then emptied it of its mechanics. Once the gaming system was empty, I had placed the grimoire inside, but while sealing it up, the screwdriver slipped and pierced my hand so profoundly that I had trouble controlling the bleeding.

It turned out it had been a happy accident because Aunt Finn had been called away on business, so Petra had been forced to help me.

Petra was less knowledgeable about healing magic, so she had dusted off her grimoire, searching for a healing cast. I had zero experience with a grimoire, and I had been contemplating the best way to broach the subject of opening one to Finn, but it turns out there wasn’t much to it, and I finally understood what witches had meant by “the wrong blood and the right words,”

Petra had spoken the title in Latin before placing her hand on the cover and gaining access to the book. She had found a recipe that contained moss, mushrooms, some type of antiseptic, and a bit of mud. She had seemed pleased when she had finished patching my hand up, but I had been doubtful.

But when I woke the following day, my hand was fully healed, and the deep puncture was nothing but a painful memory.

I lay in bed, examining my hand in amazement, knowing full well that I needed to get moving if I wanted breakfast before death row. I was procrastinating because this was the day I dreaded to face. After all, it was a day for goodbyes.

Eventually, I turned my attention away from my healed skin, walked over to the dresser, and began to dress.

It wasn’t hard to find clothes appropriate for mourning since most of my clothing was black, with the occasional grey or blue thrown in for fun.

I was accustomed to mussing my hair up and then adding hair gel to keep it in place, but today I had decided to comb it down in an attempt to look respectable. I looked stupid; I had a cowlick on the crown of my scalp, which stubbornly refused to stay down under the weight of hair product. I eventually gave up and simply messed my hair up in a cohesive manner before making my way to the kitchen.

Finn and Petra were already dressed and seated at the table when I entered the room.

“You look nice, Bishop, ” Petra said brightly.

Finn gave my hair a second glance but didn’t comment on it as she said, “Yes, you look very respectable; it’s nice to see you in clothes devoid of holes.”

“Thank you,” I said as I poured myself a bowl of cereal and joined them at the table. “You ladies look lovely,” I said before turning to Petra and showing her my hand. “You have a magic touch.”

Petra clapped her hands together, “I’m horrible at botanical magic, but it’s always best to leave healing up to nature.”

Finn’s eyes shifted between the two of us, “What happened to Bishop’s hand?” she asked.

Petra gave a dismissive wave, “Bishop had an accident last night, but you wouldn’t know it today.”

Finn reached over and seized the hand that I displayed to Petra. “Not a dent or a mark,” she commented and then looked at Petra, “Nice job; I told you if you focused, you would be an amazing potion maker.”

Petra shrugged, “Other things just interest me more, that’s all.”

Finn gave her a disapproving look, “There is more to life than being a cat,”

Petra opened her mouth, meaning to retort, but I spoke up to break the tension. “We better get a move on; the death row is about to start.”

Silverdale had a lot of amenities; it was more of an island town, surrounded by water, though the city skyline could be seen from the lake at the park. This was the chosen location for death row.

The park often attracted humans, especially on a Saturday afternoon. Still, an atmospheric cast had created a bubble, which would discourage humans from wandering into that area and disrupting the ceremony.

It was customary that each witch or warlock receive a small boat to carry their ashes. These were easier to burn and sink, but since several wizards had perished, the high councils had thought it would be better to build a bigger boat and carry them off together instead of holding several ceremonies.

When we arrived, people had already started gathering. I spotted Kenny’s mother instantly; she was standing by the water, looking pale and fragile. A younger female stood next to Kenny’s mother; her arm was around her waist as if propping her up.

The girl must have felt me watching them because she looked up and made eye contact, and I felt flush. She was undoubtedly a relative of Kenny’s because she shared some of his features. Her dark hair was cut into a bob and swept to the side, and held in place by a single barrette. Her eyes were large and fringed with long lashes.

She was attractive, but when she smiled at me, I felt my heart leap into my throat, and I had to resist the urge to run away in embarrassment. I raised my hand and gave an awkward wave before scanning the crowd in search of Kenny.

I spotted him at the edge of the lake in a huddle with Bryce and Jacob. “I’m going to go stand with Kenny,” I told Aunt Finn. She nodded, “I suppose we should tend to his mother.”

Without waiting for further permission, I made my way over to Kenny and the rest of the group.

Kenny looked like he hadn’t slept since the explosion, and though it had been only a couple of days, Bryce appeared a bit thinner. Jacob’s eyes were red as if he had spent the morning crying.

Wordlessly, I approached Jacob first and wrapped him into a hug; soon enough, Kenny joined in, and then Bryce.

We stood there in silence and only broke apart when the ceremony commenced.

The park had filled up; witches from various covens were clustered in groups among the mourners; some had little warlocks and witches in tow and often had to break away to chase after them.

“It’s up to us now,” Bryce finally said.

“What’s up to us?” Kenny asked, puzzled.

“With our fathers gone, we are now the elder wizards.”

I looked at the ship replica that was being rolled into the water, its cargo an entire generation of warlocks. It had not dawned on me that we had taken up their stations in the community. “Whoa,” I uttered.

“I suppose it is now up to us to commence the monthly warlock meetings,” Kenny muttered, not sounding too thrilled by the idea. I had to admit; that I wasn’t anxious to carry on the tradition of gathering for a monthly bickering match.

“I mean, should we? Those meetings never accomplished anything, and look where the old guard ended up,” I told them.

“Those meetings were pretty worthless,” Kenny agreed, “But it was a show of unification that gave the warlocks a vote. If we don’t stick together, then the witches will make all the decisions without needing to consult us first.”

“Don’t we owe it to them for saving our lives?” Jacob beseeched us.

“Saving our lives?” Kenny asked him in confusion, “How do you figure?”

“Well, if Bryce’s dad had not set The Elder Kin’s beard on fire, we would be on those boats.”

“It wouldn’t have happened at all if they had not caused it,” Kenny pointed out to him.

The boat was pushed into the water at that moment, and we all paused to watch it sail into the lake. When it reached deeper water, two werewolves lit the tips of their bows on fire and arched their bows.

The arrows hit their target, setting the boat aflame. The crowd watched in silence as the boat burst into a more significant flame and began to split apart. The wolves remained poised, ready to shoot more arrows if necessary. It was only after the boat burned into embers that Kenny continued.

“Yes, they do end up making the decisions, but that’s not important; we have to ensure that we are not entirely excluded from the witching community.”

“There are only four of us,” Bryce pointed out, “It will be years before the younger ones don’t have to ask their mother’s permission to join,” he looked at the last remaining pieces of the boat that were still aflame. “I don’t think they would be so keen to drop their children off, not after this.”

“No, they won’t,” I said thoughtfully, “But look at the covens, the largest ones only hold twelve, and The Grand Supremes are only made up of four witches,” I looked at them and said, “We have enough to start a coven.”

Bryce narrowed his eyes at me, “And I suppose you will be Grandmaster of this coven since it was your idea,”

I could see Kenny and Jacob narrow their foreheads, the three of them unified against me in their jealousy.

I raised my hands defensively. “No, no, Grandmasters,” I told them firmly as I backed away from them a little bit to create space in case one of them got the idea to shock me. “The witches have coven leaders, but since they all retain ownership over their spells, they offer equal value to their coven.”

“But we don’t know any spells,” Kenny told me. “And it’s kind of lame to start a coven with just four people.”

“Covens gain their power from one another,” I informed him. “My aunt has been teaching me botanical magic; we can start there.”

The three boys gave me a doubtful look, so I disclosed, “I managed to bring a sprout up from a seedling, and I learned how to make a healing patch just last night. We will be starting small, but maybe we can work our way up.”

My gaze shot around the crowd, “Kenny, your brother Eric is only a year younger than us; perhaps he would like to join. My aunt said there was power in numbers.”

Eric had always been a bit shy and virtually friendless, so I was confused when I didn’t see him standing with his mother. A horrible thought occurred to me at that moment. “Oh, no, Kenny, I didn’t realize that you had lost your brother too….”

“Eric wasn’t even there,” Kenny rushed to reassure me. “And there isn’t an Eric; I now have a sister, her name is Erica,” he motioned over to his mother with a nod of his head.

All eyes shot to where Erica was standing with her mother. She glanced over as if she had the sense that she was being watched again. This time I didn’t feel the need to turn away. She stood there and simply returned our stares; when her gaze landed on Kenny, her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Stop gawking at my sister,” Kenny said playfully as he treated us all to a swat on the shoulder. In unison, we returned our gazes to Kenny.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked him, feeling slightly betrayed that Kenny had not confided in me.

Kenny shrugged, “We were adjusting ourselves; I was going to tell you when the time was right.”

“Well, she can still join, can’t she?” Jacob persisted.

“The Grand Supremes have already tapped her; I doubt that is an opportunity she would pass up,” Kenny informed us with a note of pride in his voice.

“But how, if....” Jacob sputtered in his search for the right words.

“Erica has always been a girl, regardless of the skin she was born in,” Kenny said almost defensively; in a softer tone, he added, “She has the same skill and aptitude as any cisgender witch,”

“I guess it all depends on how you feel on the inside,” Jacob offered.

“I feel nothing on the inside,” Bryce admitted.

“You should get help for that,” Kenny retorted.

“Well, since Erica is out, I guess it’s just the four of us,” when the three of them exchanged gazes, they reached an unspoken agreement.

“We’ll give it a shot,” Bryce finally said, “But you’re not the Grandmaster just because you’re teaching us things.”

“I will never assume that I’m the Grandmaster,” I agreed and then put my hand out, palm down. “Let’s all agree, no hierarchies.”

One by one, each boy placed his palm on top of mine, forming a sandwich.

Now I felt as if I was being watched. My gaze shot over to Erica, whose head was tilted slightly to the side, looking mildly confused as she watched us.

I offered her an awkward smile, which she returned, this time displaying two perfect rows of teeth. Our gazes would have held, but I had to look away because a nest of butterflies erupted inside my chest.