Page 222 of Sigils & Spells

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Aoibhe turned and closed the door. She’d left her shower supplies in the bathroom, obviously having come back for something, the comb most likely—that much was discernable, unlike everything else. Ravyn had never been so confused.

“You had better sit down, Ravyn. Because what I have to say may shock you.”

Not knowing what else to do, she did as told, never letting go of her pillow and holding it in her arms. “What could possibly be so bad that you’d be mad at me for wanting to put your comb back, and for noticing the mark on your face. Is it permanent?” She squinted, trying to see past her friend’s hair. “I don’t think I’ve noticed it before.”

“You only see it when you’re looking for it with your third eye.”

“My…” Ravyn openly gawked now. “Mythirdeye? Aoibhe, no disrespect here, but what the ever-loving fuck are you talking about?” She pulled her legs up on the bed, crossing them beneath the pillow.

Aoibhe sighed, seeming almost deflated now that the negative emotions she’d exhibited had drained out of her. She picked up her comb and stared at it for a few seconds before moving to her own bed and sitting down, facing Ravyn. Absently, she moved the hair over the marking to keep it covered.

“A third eye is the metaphysical place…here.” She caressed a spot on her forehead, just between and slightly above her eyebrows. “Spiritual people claim it lets them see auras and makes them clairvoyant, among other things. But people like us…” She gestured between them. “We use it to recognize what’s natural and supernatural. It helps us sense danger, and in turn, triggers our true selves. What we are destined to…predict.”

Ravyn’s breath caught in her throat. Was Aoibhe…like she was? “Are you kin of Corvus?” her voice squeaked out, barely audible. She had never met any of her kind outside her family. It wasn’t unlikely, though the women in her family had tried to stay close knit in order to guide each other through the transitioning, and what they claimed to be the inevitable loss of the fathers of their daughters. Their beloveds.

Shaking her head, Aoibhe held up her comb. It was small and silver, in need of polish. Ravyn couldn’t see the design very well at a distance, but from earlier, it kind of looked like a dragon or some sort of serpentine creature woven in knots at the top. “I do not know who Corvus is to say for certain. What I do know is my kind can be traced all the way back to the goddess Brigid, and this symbol on my face was placed on those such as me by the triple goddess, the Morrigan herself, so those like us could recognize my kind.”

“Okay,” Ravyn drawled out. “But why didn’t I ever see it before? And what are you?”

“You weren’t using your third eye. You weren’t looking toseeme.”

That didn’t make sense. “I’ve always seen you. I’m not blind.”

“You saw me as a person, a roommate. You didn’t seeme. You didn’t open your third eye and look for something outside of what you expected me to be. Something like yourself.” She tilted her head to the side once again. “Have you ever met another one?”

The conversation was making her head hurt. “I didn’t know I had a third eye, let alone how to open and close it.” She frowned. “I’ve only known of my family. Apollo cursed Corvus, who was able to turn into a crow. Now all the women in my family do the same, usually by the time they turn eighteen. I haven’t shifted yet.”

Her eyes widened. Did her third eye, whatever that was, have something to do with an impending shift? Suddenly, the need to call her mother tugged at her. Something was not right. She was getting too attached to Daniel, too fast, and now she was seeing other supernatural beings.

“Wait,” Ravyn said, “if you are not part of Corvus’ curse, what are you?” Aoibhe had named deities she wasn’t familiar with, but instinctively knew they were Irish. The knotwork on her face and comb, Aoibhe’s heritage. It all fit.

“Does your family not have a name for themselves? You all call yourself Corvus’ kin or whatever you said earlier?” Aoibhe’s giggle was a comforting return to her normal composure.

“We call ourselves harbingers, but we’re bird shifters mainly. Ravens, crows, and rooks.”

“Corvids.” Aoibhe nodded as though this made perfect sense to her. “When I came in here to find my comb, your instinct made you open your third eye and you saw a threat for what it was. Speaking of which, I thought it would be obvious by the comb as well as being very Irish. Not to mention, my project topic and all that.” She chuckled.

“A banshee?” What the hell would have happened if she touched the comb?

“Aye,” Aoibhe said and did an elaborate half-bow with a wave of her hand. “At your service.”

Banshees were real? Ravyn supposed it wasn’t too outrageous considering her own family turned into actual birds. Did that mean the gods were real after all? That Apollo was somewhere upon Mount Olympus playing his lyre and continuously lusting after mortals and nymphs that had no interest in him? “I thought banshees were wraithlike ghosts.”

This sent Aoibhe into a fit of laughter. “Not quite, at least not yet. Once I die, aye.” She turned the comb over in her hands. “A banshee lives their life in three stages, a gift from the Morrigan. We come into our power as a maiden, supposedly when we lose our innocence and have sex for the first time. Dunno yet how true that is.” She rolled her eyes. “Then the mother, when we give birth to the next potential banshee daughter. And finally, the crone, or the wraith as you called it, when we haunt the family we become bonded to until the next banshee comes into her power. If they do. Many of us live normal mortal lives.”

Ravyn sat up a little straighter. She wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that they had a chance not to be what they were. As far as she was aware, every woman in the Corvus family had shifted. And every single one had lost a man they loved. No matter how much Ravyn didn’t want to believe in that curse, the facts were still there. “So you might not ever be an actual banshee? And you called Morrigan a triple goddess. What does that mean?”

She hoped Aoibhe wasn’t too annoyed by all the questions.

“TheMorrigan. It’s as much a name as it is a title. She was once three deities that formed a triad by that name. As time passed, the three merged into one goddess. And, yes, that’s why I am not sure for a fact if virginity is the key. The family my banshee family is tied to has not had a lot of ill luck, so my great, great, great grandmother continued haunting their home in Ireland, long after most of the family moved to the U.S.”

There were so many questions that brought about, but she didn’t want to burden her friend with all of them right away. “I wish it skipped generations in my family. I haven’t shifted yet. Hell, I don’t even know if there is anything particular that will cause it. But we always predict the demise of men we love and can do nothing to stop it. My family didn’t want me to come here because they worry I’ll experience that. I don’t think sheltering me would stop it though.” But it might be why she hadn’t shifted.

Aoibhe gave her a look that was unreadable, but didn’t comment. She picked at her comb again.

“What’s the deal with the comb, anyway? Why were you so angry?”

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