She made her way over to the counter, scooping up the tin. The Callighans were talking in low voices by the kitchen sink.
“Should be impossible,” Brenna was saying. “The circle was complete.”
“Nothing gets in unless it’s invited,” Faye said, and she cast a narrow glance in the direction of the living room. “This feels familiar. It isn’t the first time we’ve had a circle broken.”
Meiner stopped. Here was her chance to finally get answers. When Faye and Brenna paused and stared at her she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Tell me what she did. Why did she leave?”
Now it was Brenna’s turn to dart a look toward the living room. Then she said in a low voice, “She was asked to leave. We didn’t realize it, but she’d been practicing black magic.”
Meiner braced a hand on the counter, taking a deep, shaky breath. She wasn’t sure why she felt shocked. She shouldn’t be.
“Very few beings are powerful enough to break a circle,” Bronagh added. “But if the circle is already disrupted by dark energy from within, it becomes easier.”
Meiner barely caught what she was saying. This was bringing back memories she usually tried to keep buried. Of Grandma King coming and going at all hours of the night, her eyes growing strange and wild. Hearing the rasping hiss of whispers late into the small hours of the morning, of tall, slender shadows sliding along the walls. Catching glimpses of movement reflected in mirrors and around corners, swirls of black mist pooling on the floor one minute and gone the next.
The question now became, was Gran still doing dark magic?
“You think she broke the circle again,” Meiner said.
She saw Faye’s expression turn to dismay, and Brenna flinch, a split second before a cool voice said behind her, “The first incident was years ago. I was just out of witchlinghood. If it had been me who broke the circle now, Bronagh, you would know. Most of you would be dead, and the rest half-mad and drooling in your tea.”
The Callighans said nothing, only exchanged a look, and Bronagh gave a reluctant nod.
The anger flared in Meiner’s chest. Gran hadn’t even looked at Meiner, wasn’t even going to address the fact that she’d lied to her all her life. That she’d raised her around black magic. That wasn’t the type of shit you did around children. Things happened. People died.
Meiner’s arm shot out before she could think about what she was doing, and she seized a fistful of the back of Grandma King’s sweater. “How the hell could you—”
Something hit her full in the chest, cutting her words off. It felt like an invisible fist knocked her back a step, punching the air from her lungs. Meiner wheezed, hands pressed below her collarbones, eyes watering.
Grandma King turned, expression twisted with fury. “You think I owe you an explanation, girl?”
Meiner stepped back, pulse jackhammering in her ears as her grandmother moved toward her. Then she blinked, startled, as Yemi swept between them. The woman’s good-natured smile was gone, replaced by cold fury.
“I don’t know what kind of backward coven you run, Ms. King. Frankly I don’t care. You are under my roof, and you will follow my rules. In this house we do not strike children, and we certainly do not use magic against them. If you cannot abide by these rules, you can take yourself off my property right now. Do I make myself clear?”
Meiner watched, astonished, as her gran slowly nodded. When her gaze shifted back to Meiner, she could see the anger buried there, but Gran said nothing. Instead she returned to the living room, Yemi following silently.
Meiner turned away from the counter to see Dayna and Reagan at the kitchen table, expressions slack with shock. She’d forgotten they were there.
Her cheeks burned. She couldn’t stand the look Dayna was giving her. The surprise, turning swiftly to pity.
She had to get out. Had to clear her head.
Meiner stomped through the hallway and burst out the front door, into the cool fresh air of the garden. She made her way around the house and stopped just under the kitchen window, leaning against the wall, hands on her knees as she tried to collect herself. Her chest still ached, and the Callighans’ words echoed in her ears over and over.
There was shuffling from the window above, and Meiner stiffened. “She’ll be in there for a while,” said a low voice.
“She’ll not get away with that behavior again,” someone replied. It sounded like Faye.
“Nay, she won’t. I’ve never seen Yemi like that.” Brenna’s voice was amused. “Glad I wasn’t on the end of it. I thought Grandma King and Ma would be at each other’s throats; I didn’t see that coming.”
“Well,” Faye muttered, “it’s only a matter of time before that happens. The sooner this is done the better. That entire coven is a powder keg waiting to go off.”
Brenna made a tsking noise but didn’t argue. There was another shuffle and then silence. They’d moved back into the living room.
Meiner slumped against the side of the house.
It hurt because she knew it was true. Her coven was toxic, and she was no better, because more than hurt, more than betrayal, she felt rage. She pictured herself stalking back inside, through the kitchen and into the living room. Screaming at her grandmother that she was done, she was leaving. Storming out and never looking back.
She played it in her head over and over, letting her fingers drift over the thin, curved scar on her left cheek.
Gran might still be doing black magic.
If she was, Meiner was going to find out. And this time her gran wasn’t going to get away with it.
She stayed outside, despite the cold night air biting at her through her jacket and the rain and mist that began to roll in through the garden. She stayed, hoping the cold drizzle would extinguish the burning in her chest.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DAYNA
The room was spinning. Dayna groaned, dropping her head onto her arms. The cup beside her rattled and nearly tipped over, and Reagan snorted.
“I feel absolutely plastered.” Reagan’s voice was slurred.
Dayna groaned again, this time in agreement. If she shut her eyes, her head spun, so she forced herself to sit up, trying to blink away the fog. Her mind felt like a bee’s nest, full of frantic buzzing.
The ugly look on Cora’s face when she’d spotted her. The way she’d spoken, threatening but familiar, like whatever had possessed her had known Dayna.
The hum of multiple voices and the way she’d called the others sister.
Meiner’s hands on her shoulders, the smell of laundry soap. The way her arm shot out to fend off Cora.
Whatever the hell that had been just now with Grandma King…
For a split second she’d been afraid for Meiner. The look in Grandma King’s eyes…Dayna repressed a shudder. If that was what she did to her own granddaughter in front of others, what did she do when they were alone?
On top of all of this, the power that had surged through her during the ceremony still burned in her breast. It kept bringing her back to the same thought.
She was a full witch now.
In spite of everything, it was still a big deal. Sluggishly she reached over and put a hand on Reagan’s shoulder. “Reagan?”
Her friend was slumped forward, head on her arms. “Hmm?”