Dancing on the Dark Side

2 Coping with Magic

"Fi," A voice behind me calls out. I turn to face the girl who called out to me, my sister, Clara. Long lost sister. I still find it weird to run into her. Had it not been for the spike in magic last month, we probably would never have known we were related - or anywhere near each other in this giant state. We probably could have gone our whole lives without ever knowing.

"Clara," I greet her with a little nod, pausing just long enough for the woman to bound across the path to join me. Her eyes are so warm and gentle- so different from my own. Though we share the same shade of violet-grey, and even the same wavey, rusty-brown hair, where she is confident and reassured in her posture, I feel my own shoulders hunched, hands in pockets - holding onto the twin, metallic objects within.

"Hey, you made it," Clara chirps, moving to join me as I start walking again. My eyes dart around the parking lot as others move to their cars, talking to each other and catching up on whatever's happened since the last meeting.

"I did." I reply shortly, absently fiddling with the chilled metal of the pocket knives. I'm still not used to being on this side of town. Despite being invited - not only by Clara but some of the others in the Clan - I still feel like an outsider.

"We're having dinner together tonight if-" Clara starts, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Sorry, Clara." I interrupt her with what hope comes across as an apologetic and sincere smile rather than a panicky one. "I'm working late tonight." Her hopeful expression falls and a little sadness wanders into her eyes.

"Oh, that's right," She murmurs, her shoulders slumping a little. "I forgot you have a job with humans." She then grimaces, as if just then hearing her own words. "Not that that's a bad thing-"

"I know what you mean." I reassure her, this time my smile is genuine as I nod to her. Clara seems to be a little oblivious to her own words sometimes, and has the tendency to be misunderstood because of her lack of a filter. "Rain check?"

"Yeah. You've got my number." She nods eagerly, the smallest spark of hope in her eyes bursting to life and making them sparkle with such a sweetness it kind of hurts my chest to lie to her.

"I'll call you." I lie smoothly, giving her another nod before practically running the rest of the way to my car.

Clara seems like a nice person, really, and under normal circumstances, I'd happily join her for dinner. But I haven't been in a room with the rest of the Vene since Clara first introduced us at Abuela's funeral. I know for a fact that I'm not ready to be anywhere near the others anytime soon. Especially not with how my witchy powers have been acting.

I didn't know I was a witch until last month. I was adopted when I was a baby by normal, human parents. When I was born my mom put me up for adoption. To my knowledge, most witches prefer to have their babies born in a Clan hospital or by a Coven associate. My mom didn't. Instead, when she had gone into labor, she left the house and my siblings behind to go to a normal, human hospital and have me. Then put me up for adoption in the same twenty-four hours.

I was taken in by a couple who couldn't conceive by natural means a few days later. A few years later, that same couple died, and their only surviving familiar connection - the maternal parent - took me in. That's how I came to grow up with my abuela. She was a stern, no non-sense woman with a love for her culture, and the life she left behind in Mexico.

She raised me as any grandmother would, with all the wisdom that comes with living a full life. And we were happy for many years. Until last month when she died. It was then that I found out my abuela was actually not the mother of the couple who had originally adopted me, but the mother of my birth mom. My abuela was my real grandmother. Though I had never thought of her as anything but my real family - by blood or not - the news shocked me.