Hannah Fitzgerald was born into a legacy of powerful magic, only the last thing she wants is to be a witch. It’s too bad her aunt, her coven, and her magic aren’t giving her the option to bow out. Here’s Chapter One:
I didn’t know if fate could be altered, but I hoped for the possibility. The reason was simple—sometime ago, my bewitched ancestors co-mingled and permanently effed up my life. Thanks to them, the inherited magic I’d have sacrificed my virginity to live without was stirring again, most likely triggered by the stress of leaving Green Briar. It whispered to me from its lair like a beast luring a curious creature to her doom. Not now, I thought. I was twelve hours away from starting fresh at Truxton High and desperate for an ordinary junior year, not to mention a deliriously ordinary life.
What was that damn mantra? Right. Acknowledge, focus, and breathe deeply. I inhaled enough air to make myself dizzy. Crap. This was not working.
The magic hummed to life, quiet at first, then loud like a banshee unleashing in my head. On the outside, I tried not to make the weird face. Instead, I focused my gaze on the dashboard and clenched my jaw, waiting for the magic’s slow crawl back to its dark cave.
Aunt Jocelyn, or Aunt J as I liked to call her, tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel to a crappy disco song on the radio. “Everything okay, darling? You look like you have cramps.”
Ten minutes from her home in Annapolis and I was already wishing I was back at Green Briar, mostly because of the cramps comment, but the bad music wasn’t helping. I swiped a blonde tendril away from my eyes and shot her a look. “Gross. Not cramps. Head hurts.”
She pursed her lips in the way that always filled me with dread. “Your head hurts? Or are you trying to suppress the family legacy?”
A hard lump formed in my throat as she unleashed her suspicion. “You know I don’t want to talk about it.” Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t talk about if I wanted to. A year and a half ago that legacy of magic drove my mom so crazy she killed herself. A few months later, my frustrated dad followed her lead. If only I’d done something to stop them. If only.
“Days after your dad’s funeral, when you begged me to send you to Green Briar, I guessed it wasn’t just grief and anxiety that was overwhelming you, but I let you go because it was what you wanted. However, it’s been a year now, and all I’m asking for is the truth.”
I hated when her guesses were spot on. “I wanted help—to deal with it.” A single tear betrayed me, trailing down my cheek.
“How could ordinary therapists help you stifle your extraordinary magic?”
I ignored her attempt at a compliment and wiped my face dry. “I needed to learn how to suppress the emotions that bring it to life.” She’d witnessed the damage it had caused.
“Where’s the fiery spirit you once had?”
My gloom phased to anger and my eyes flashed fire. “It’s dead along with my parents.”
“That’s enough.” She lowered the radio volume. “It’s not dead. You’re suppressing it, but you can’t suppress what you are. Only in accepting your true self can you live a happy life.”
On the verge of my fresh start, my aunt had the nerve to sound like a philosopher. Didn’t she understand that all I wanted was to not be a Fitzgerald for once? “I’m not worried about my spirit, or being happy. I just want to be ordinary and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
To be continued…
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