Page 39 of The Rowan
Lifting my hands, I imply a lack of interest. “I consider my guardians my parents. What does it matter who my real parents were?”
“It’s important for us to record every single witch. Our numbers and powers are minimal compared to past witches. My mother is researching to find the reason and a solution. Having your background information is important for the coven’s future.” She recites this information as if she’s heard it a million times.
“I’m learning more about us each day,” I murmur as a dress in the window catches my eye. Made of amber silk, with a halter neck and a long slit up the side, it screams sexy sophistication, and the color reminds me of Valerian’s eyes. “I’m going to try on that dress.” I step into the store.
An older lady approaches me. “Can I help you find something?”
Her name tag says “Anna.” “Hello, Anna. I’d like to try on the dress in the window, please. Do you have it in a size six?”
She glances down and gives me a fake smile. “Absolutely. I’ll get it for you.”
“Thank you.” I look around to see if there’s anything else. Amelie destroyed my clothes, so I need quite a bit, and several items catch my eye. Cassandra stands in the shop’s entrance. “The clothes here are fabulous. Good quality, interesting designs. Have you shopped here?”
Her nose wrinkles in distaste. “I like my clothes much more form-fitting,” she scoffs, waving a hand at her ripped skinny jeans and skin-tight crop top, then laughs loudly.
I shrug. “I like classic lines,” I state, ignoring her last statement. Anna steps out from the back with the amber dress. “Wonderful. I’ll also try on these three shirts, two pairs of pants and this moto jacket.”
Anna frowns, but turns and walks back to the dressing rooms.
“I’ll be right back. We could meet at the food court?” I offer.
“I’m good,” she replies with a giggle, then whispers something to the rest of the group.
The clothes fit beautifully, including the moto jacket. I pile the items on the counter and wait for Anna to ring me up.
Anna wraps them up and states the total.
I hand her my card, then turn to Cassandra and the rest of the group. “Thanks for waiting. Let’s go grab something to eat.”
When we step out of the store, Essa blurts, “I like the dress you bought.”
Cassandra glares at her.
I guess Cassandra doesn’t like it when her minions have their own opinions.
We all grab something to eat and sit down in the middle of the food court. Cassandra and her posse on one side of the table, with myself on the other.
“So, Cassandra, can you tell me anything about the placement ceremony?” I say nonchalantly.
“God, I forget how ignorant you are about witch stuff. First, they read the results from your bloodline tests to the entire coven. I guess in your case, they’ll finish the last two tests before they read the results. You place your hand on the witches’ thorn, and it decides your acceptance into the coven. Then, Caro decides on your placement in the hierarchy and how you will help support the coven. Kind of like the job you’ll do for the coven. They inform you and your family. Finally, you give your blood oath to the coven. That’s it.”
I’d heard some of this from Bianca, but not the last part. “I thought witches didn’t work? And what’s a witches’ thorn?” I ask, then take a bite of my pizza. “Also, can I invite my family to the placement ceremony?”
She sighs, as if my questions are taxing her. “First, you take on jobs for the coven. If Caro needs you to research something, she gives you a job, but it’s not like a job outside of the coven. Second, it’s a thorn, from our sacred rowan tree. When you place your hand down on it, your blood mingles with the blood of all the other witches before you. Magic tied to the thorn reveals where you should be placed on the family tree,” Cassandra states, her tone matter of fact.
I don’t like the idea of them having a drop of my blood. As I experienced when I used blood magic, it’s pure power. “You carve my name into a tree?” I ask, puzzled.
I think it’s Essa who replies while giggling. “No, silly. The coven’s family tree is a tapestry of the sacred rowan. The magic weaves every witch’s name onto the tree.”
Interesting. “Every witch? Even those born as a hybrid, like Daire and Astor?” I drill, already guessing the answer.
“Of course not. Only pure witches may put their name on the tree. We don’t consider hybrids witches,” sneers Cassandra.
“Pure witches, got it. Anything else?” I murmur, trying to control my anger.
“Well, there’s your allegiance to the light,” Cassandra laughs, “or the dark. Obviously, the light has all the power in our coven, so if you want to pick the winning side, you’ll choose light. It represents the greater good of the coven. We all want what’s best for the coven, right?”
“I don’t think free will is so bad,” I state firmly, referencing the dark. After all, I grew up in a house with both light and dark.
