MAGIC and All Other Deadly Affairs | COMPLETE!

SIXTEEN | Horns.

SIXTEEN | Horns.

We were in the Wolf Hall office. The same one from those memories. The same one with less broken items. It did however, have a birch desk that looked much too modern and bright against the darker, hand carved office.

I also noticed the layer of dust, and dirt on the over packed shelves, and on the floor lamps. Yellowed shades, and rusted metal. Among the stench of dust of old books that tickled at my nose.

Rosaline sat behind the desk, and I sat in a cushioned, wooden (of course) chair in front of the desk. However, I wasn't much sitting in it rather than kneeling in it and hunching over the desk trying to read from the book Rosaline was going through.

"So," she spun the book around once she found the designated page so I could see. And I did, I looked down at what seemed like a circle drawn in black ink, "This is a circle."

I briefly glanced up her with a look duh on my face. She merely rolled her eyes, and flipped to another page, where the circle now had symbols around its outside, then a few on the inside. Again, my eyes drifted up to her as I waited for her to explain.

"What makes white witches and deep witches different is their position in or outside the circle, so to speak. See, magic of the white witches comes from the light. The things that thrive on this world and the things that are basked in light. So, each white witch is gifted with the ability to bond with one of these elements of the light: fire, earth, air, spirit and water."

She stopped to look up at me and I eagerly nodded at her to continue. This made sense with what I had seen at the Aristricata Foundation and with Norman. And those flames he could basically pull out of his arse. Rosaline smirked slightly, before clearing her voice and I perked up waiting for her next words.

"As for us – the deep witches. Our magic comes from within the circle, from the shadows. What many witches refuse to say is that our magic comes from within the light too – so far inside the light that the light is dark. And that's why they call us dark witches, because they are afraid of our power, our gifts," she hummed.

I straightened, "And what's our gifts?"

She seemed to hesitate, "Our gifts are abominations of the light. Scraps of magic that were thrusted upon us with nowhere else to go. Magic that call manipulate corpses of the dead, change our forms of animals, ones that can sing to the mind and ones that can taint the very juice running through our veins. We have the magic needed to keep the balance, and those jealous little white witches hate that."

"We each have one?" I asked remembering how Crow reanimated those wolves' bodies.

Rosaline smiled brightly and nodded, "Henry could manipulate minds, Damien could use shape magic and I can reanimate corpses – which is pretty useless when you think about it. When am I ever near dead bodies that I need to act like my goons?"

I forced a laugh thinking about how Crow had killed those wolves. I was glad that Rosaline didn't share his means of getting his way, and I was glad she had little use for such a power. Then I wondered which of those gifts I could have.

"You can tick blood counting off your list," King had growled.

I remembered when my palm was cut. With Norman and King. At the time King's words confused the heck out of me but now, I was glad. Somehow, me being able to control blood gave me shivers and kind of made me nauseous. I now only hoped it wasn't necromancy.

"Sad, isn't it?" he murmured from beside me.

"It is but, it's also just the way of life," I sighed.