Page 27 of Witch's Rite
Juno stood and waved with a bright smile to someone behind me. I sucked down the last of my gin and tonic for a final dose of liquid courage, then turned to greet two of the most powerful witches in the city.
"Deja, this is Laurel and John. High Priestess and High Priest of the Golden Moon Coven," Juno introduced graciously, nodding her head in a slight bow.
"Oh please, no need for formalities," Laurel protested as she took my hand. "It's lovely to meet you, Deja."
"Juno has told us so much about you already," John added, offering a warm, fatherly smile that immediately put me at ease.
"Good things, I hope." I settled back into my chair, nerves still fluttering in my stomach but not as bad as a minute ago.
John and Laurel were a fairly normal-looking middle-aged couple with salt and pepper hair. Laurel wore hers down her back in a long french braid that reminded me of Diana. They both dressed casually with a slight hippie vibe, complete with large chunks of raw crystals worn around their necks. John's aura was a pale, pastel green, while Laurel's was a shimmery, greyish silver. I sensed they were magical immediately but they looked so normal aside from that. I would never have taken them for witches.
"So did Juno show you this place immediately or send you on a wild goose chase?" Laurel asked in a teasing, motherly way.
I blinked, somewhat confused. We were sitting at Triple Moon Pub, the bar visible only to magical beings, which I happened to find the day after discovering I was a witch. And where I and three certain demons had done a fair amount of three-way making out.
I relayed this to Laurel and John-- save the demon part-- and they looked at me like I sprouted three extra heads.
"Hold on, let me understand this," John said, laying a hand in the center of the table. "You learned you were a witch, started seeing people's auras, and just stumbled upon this place all within twenty-four hours?"
"More like twelve," I admitted. "I was about to go to bed the night before when my grandmother showed up."
He and Laurel exchanged a look that I couldn't read, but my stomach felt like it sank into my feet. I looked over at Juno, who had been silent since introducing us, and she merely lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug.
"Deja, who are your mother and grandmother?" asked Laurel. Her tone grew sharp and I suddenly felt as if I was being interrogated.
"Um, my grandmother is Diana Quinn. My mother's name was Deidre, but she died when I was an infant."
"I'm so sorry for your loss, dear." Laurel's sharp edge softened. "I know of your family of witches, albeit distantly. We're just baffled because, forgive me for saying this, but there is nothing special in your bloodline."
"Oh... kay." I wasn't sure whether to be offended or not.
"What Laurel means is," John cut in. "Your magic is highly advanced for being such a late bloomer, to the extent that it's usually a hereditary gift passed down through generations to be at your level of development. You've done in less than a day what typical witches can't do for years."
My mind spun and I began to regret drinking my alcohol so fast.
"Wait, so you're saying most witches can't see auras or find glamoured bars right away?"
"Places like this use a fairly complex glamour spell designed to keep underage witches from getting in trouble," John chuckled. "By the time they're of legal age, it can still be a few weeks before they see through it."
"Depends on how badly they want to drink," Laurell chimed in with a wink. "And yes, aura perception is a typically a learned skill that takes many years to hone, although some develop a talent for it while very young."
"Wow," I breathed, sitting back in my chair. "Diana told me I was learning fast but I had no idea."
"Told you that you were special," Juno teased, nudging me with her shoe.
"It's true," John agreed softly. "You are an exceptional rarity, miss Deja."
I didn't know how to feel. Flattered? Worried? Proud? More like a serious case of Imposter Syndrome. Just over a month ago, I was nobody special at all. Now I was apparently some kind of super-witch, as well as the reincarnation of some ancient still-yet-to-be-known person who captured the hearts of three powerful demons thousands of years ago.
Some inkling inside me told me these two pieces of information were related, although I couldn't be sure. And who could I possibly ask?
Laurel and John seemed nice enough but how much could I really trust them? My own grandmother's contempt for demonkind, not to mention the sideways looks I got from other patrons at the pub while with my guys, boiled my blood every single time. It felt like nothing more than blatant discrimination, just like being prejudiced against anyone else who wasn't them.
No, the only ones I trusted wholeheartedly were my demon boys.
Even Ash. Although my stubborn pride still wanted to be mad at him, deep down I knew he wasn't in the wrong. He wasn't trying to hurt me or jerk me around. He slipped up and then held steadfast to what he thought was best. I actually respected him for that.
Fuck. I missed him.
