Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“My aunt…” I sighed. “Well, I mean she’s a practitioner of Wicca and all that but I don’t know if you’d call her a real witch.”
“She’s a Latimer—it doesn’t get much realer than that. Latimers are Sister royalty,” a new voice declared. “Which makes you, Megan Latimer, a princess of the blood!”
11
This new voice came from right over my head and startled me so much I dropped the forkful of salad I had been conveying to my mouth. Looking up, I saw a short boy with golden-blonde hair and friendly blue eyes grinning down at me.
“Oh Avery!” Emma exclaimed. “You’ll scare poor Megan to death sneaking up on her like that!” She turned to me. “This is Avery Connor—you’ll like him.”
“Are you a Drake or a Nocturne or a Fae?” I asked bluntly. Since everyone at this damn school seemed so intent on segregating themselves, it seemed like a fair question.
“None of the above.” Avery’s friendly grin widened.
“So…you’re a Norm?” I glanced from him to Emma. “I thought you said you and Kaitlyn were the only Norms at this lunch period?”
“They are and I am not a Norm. Perish the thought!” Avery waved one hand dramatically. “I am…drum-roll please, girls. No?” he said, when Emma and Kaitlyn just gave him exasperated looks. “Okay then, I’ll have to introduce myself without a drum-roll. I am the one and only Mister Sister—the only male witch currently in residence at our lovely Alma Mater.”
He made me an elaborate bow and Emma and Kaitlyn clapped, shaking their heads in amusement.
“But…I thought a male witch was called a warlock?” I protested, frowning.
“Oh no, not at all. Though it’s true that a warlock is a male with magical powers,” Avery conceded. “But warlocks—like my dear father, I might add—have very masculine powers. They do things like Geo-political Magic and Climate Mastery. My father is in Antarctica at this very moment, trying to keep the ice caps from melting.” He leaned closer and whispered behind his hand to me. “That’s not working out for him so far, but it’s only because the Norms are screwing everything up faster than even magic can fix it.”
“But…if you have magical powers and you’re a male then how are you a witch and not a warlock?” I asked, still confused.
“Well, because…Hang on—I need coffee before I can explain.”
Avery sank down in the chair beside me and began dumping creamer and sugar into the black coffee which was the only thing on his tray. I counted seventeen sugar packets and ten creamers before he was done—the coffee was a pale blonde color when he finally took a sip.
“Ahhh. I live on this stuff. Because,” he said, taking up where he’d left off. “As I told you before, newbie, a warlock has big, important, male magical powers. Whereas I do not. Do you know how I first—as we in the witching community put it—‘Flamed Up?’ And no, I am not making that phrase up, we really use it—isn’t that deliciously ironic?” he took a slurp of his coffee and grinned at me like a Cheshire cat.
“Uh…Flamed up?” I asked, not understanding.
“How I first manifested my magic.” Avery gave me a surprised look. “My Goddess, newbie—you’re a Latimer. Do you not know any of this?”
“She’s completely new to the Other world,” Emma said. “Only found out this morning she’d been accepted to Nocturne and before that, she didn’t know a Fae from a French Fry or a Drake from a dill pickle.”
“Stop—you’re making me hungry for real food,” Kaitlyn complained, picking at her congealed orange casserole.
“Sorry—just thinking about my job. I work at the I Scream diner on the weekends and some days after school—I got special permission to go off campus,” Emma put in. “Anyway, go on, Avery.”
“All right. Well,” he went on, giving me another incredulous look. “The very first time I manifested, I was only six. Yes, I know—I was a precocious child.” He preened and took another sip of his coffee. “Anyway, my poor dear mother had sewn herself a little black dress. Ma-ma, you must know is a Null—she can’t do a lick of magic. So the poor dear has to do things the hard way, like those poor Norms.”
He gave Emma and Kaitlyn a pitying look and Emma promptly shot him the bird while Kaitlyn stuck out her tongue.
“Ah, that’s right—they’re envious. And who can blame them?” Avery sighed and took another sip of his sugar and cream with a tiny bit of coffee.
“Avery, get to the point!” Emma exclaimed.
“Ah yes—my first flame up—in more ways than one.” Avery gave me an arch look. “So, my mother had made a little black dress for herself because she likes creating things, even though she can’t use magic to do it. But I, being only six years old, found it dreadfully plain and dull. I thought it would be so much prettier with just a little—oh hell, let’s be honest—a lot of colorful embroidery. So I called my little magic needle and that was what I did.”