Black Magic

Chapter Twenty

The next few weeks pass frighteningly uneventfully. Every time my phone buzzes, whether it be from a text or a phone call, I tense and tighten up. Every time I answer, I expect Victon's voice or his written word to be on the other end. Another tease that he's still hounding me. A reminder of his grip on me, lingering and tightening with every second—but invisible to me, only obvious when he wants it to be. It's nerve-wracking; I spend most of the first couple weeks of December trying to drown myself in other things, throwing myself whole-heartedly into training with Sixten and studying for exams.

Halfway through December, on a Friday evening a few hours after my exhausting Cultural Anthropology final, my phone buzzes as I'm lazily studying for my Basic Magical Practice final. I tense, eyes flickering over to where it sits innocent on my pillow. It doesn't stop buzzing, the screen lighting up with a phone call.

At least Camila doesn't yell at me about not answering my phone anymore. Ever since that night weeks ago, she's been—surprisingly kind. Or. Well. Less of a bitch. She doesn't treat me like I'm fragile, but both of us are making an effort to . . . get along, in a sense. We don't argue anymore.

Hand shaking minutely, I reach out to grab my phone. Relief rushes through me at the picture of my sister's face on caller ID, amber eyes crinkled in a smile.

"Hi, Aurelia," I say. It's been ages since we've talked; we text every now and then to keep up, but I haven't been to a single Sunday dinner and we never run into each other at school. And we have our issues, but it's just—it's good to hear from her. Something marginally normal, after everything that's been happening. "What's up?"

"We're hosting a coven meeting tomorrow," is the first thing she says. "Everyone is going to be there." There's still that hint of nobility in her tone, the smug superiority. I'm being condescended, and I immediately bristle, defensive anger curling in my chest. But her next words are softer, the haughtiness dulled down. "I wasn't sure if you knew. I know Mother doesn't want you there, something about not wanting you involved in something that isn't your business, but everyone else in any coven bloodline is going to be there. It'd be an embarrassment if you weren't going." Her tone is flippant, but there's a strange sincerity underlining it that's almost impossible to pick out.

Despite the immediate, automatic reaction to push back against her snobbish attitude, I settle that part of myself down. "Thanks for letting me know, Aurelia. I appreciate it." She doesn't have to—normally she wouldn't, because she's nothing if not Mother's pet—but the fact that she did is meaningful. "See you at noon tomorrow?"

"See you," Aurelia says breezily, and then she's hanging up without another word.

I immediately fire off a text to Kerani, blowing a loose lock of hair out of my face.

Camila hums, attracting my attention. She's no longer nose-deep in her textbook, instead peering at me over the top with shrewd blue eyes. "Was that about the covens meeting?" Her eyes narrow. "Purely out of curiosity, of course."

"Yep." My phone buzzes with a response from Kerani; an enthusiastic, almost worryingly-excited agreement.

"What are you texting about? Just—"

"Curiosity, I know." Camila huffs, but I ignore her, sending another text. "I'm just—inviting a couple friends." I know from years of experience that attending coven meetings without a social buffer, surrounded by people who either hate you or fear you or just want to shun you because it's the popular opinion, is a nightmare. Not to mention how boring the meetings can be; they're incredibly important, and it's always wise for a bloodline witch to attend, but as I'm not a speaker I'll be spending most of the time on the outskirts with the other daughters. And none of them will talk to me.