Page 22 of Wings of The Wraith
Grandma pulled away from me and looked me over, sorrow in her eyes. Sorrow filled her face, clouding her beautiful features.
“No, my dear. You are not dead, and neither am I. My human life is over, and this is my next calling. My first calling was to watch over you and protect you.”
What was she saying?
“I don’t understand. I don’t understand.”
She sat me back down on the bed and sat next to me.
“Do you remember the stories I used to tell you when you were little? Your father couldn’t stand them.” She offered a kind smile.
“I remember.” She told me fairy tales similar to what you’d read in a Grimm Brother’s collection.
Witches and sorcerers, vampires and demons. Angels and other magical creatures. Those were the beings in her stories.
“My dear girl they weren’t stories. There were um... I was telling you about this world. The world no one can see in the human realm.”
“What?” I shook my head. I must have gone crazy, must have.
“No. You are not crazy.” She read my mind.
Read my thoughts.
“Grandma.”
“Yes girl. I’m so sorry. I’m so truly sorry. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. It’s your birthday today and everything is about to change for you, more than it already has.”
“What do you mean?” I still couldn’t understand.
She pressed her lips together. “Your father is human, but your mother’s side of the family comes from a long line of witches who developed the ability to become the most powerful mages history has ever seen.”
“Mom? So she’s a witch?”
“Yes, she is. We kept it from you because we all thought it was best.”
My parents were divorced. Dad was from England so he moved back just after they split. Mom got remarried a few years back. They were both happy with their lives but I had to admit that recently they were acting strange.
On my last visit to Dad he said he wanted to talk to me about something, then when it came to it he chickened out and started talking about some artwork. That was four months ago. Then I saw Mom last week and she was acting strange too. She looked anxious and she freaked out way too much the other week when I had problems with the car.
When I told her what happened the first thing she asked me was if I was wearing my necklace.
She knew it was a talisman.
“Why did you guys think it was best?”
“Because of who you are. Most witches come into their powers by the time they are eighteen. Late bloomers get them at twenty one at the very latest. You were different.”
“Why am I different?”
“Our line is old, dating back to when the human world was first thought about. We took the practice of witchcraft beyond what anyone could anticipate. Our power was inconceivable, and we always enhanced what we already had.”
This sounded like one of her stories. I would have told her that and continued my mantra about me going crazy, but the words she spoke felt true.
It felt that everything she was saying was real.
“Witchcraft and mages...”
“Yes, you have all the powers of a witch and all the abilities of a mage. That is your birthright, but you are also something else. Something that could be dangerous in the wrong hands.”
