Snoe touched the smooth wood casket, pushed his power into it. He closed his eyes and mentally pushed himself to the side, to the point he no longer felt the rain beating down on him or the way his clothes clung to his skin. He eased a breath out as the ground moved like water and the casket sank. The smell of burning flowers filled the air, drowning out the smell of rain. The air crackled with magic as they all hummed the age-old death song, giving the blessing and praying that Alister Blake crossed the river of death peacefully.
Snoe crouched down as the casket disappeared into the ground. He waved his hand over the spot his father’s bones would lie for all eternity.
“Rise and be a part of this world. Let his flesh and organs nourish you,” Snoe whispered.
It responded with ease. Snoe never had any trouble with plants and animals; they always responded to his magic. The ground rumbled as the tree broke through the ground. Others took a small step back as some roots lifted above the ground. Snoe pulled back his magic, letting the earth do the rest. He flexed his fingers a few times, easing the ache the use of magic caused in them from time to time. Snoe took a step back with the others as the tree shot up and grew, draining the last of Alister Blake’s magic.
“A willow tree,” the priest muttered.
A chuckle bubbled out of Snoe; it wasn’t on purpose. But his father had chosen a willow tree, his mother’s favorite tree. When Hilde had moved into the house, she’d had the willow tree cut down. It had been Snoe’s mother’s favorite sitting area. This was a fuck-you. Snoe couldn’t help but look at his stepmother, who’d been sure his father would have chosen the magnolia tree, her favorite.
Ever the perfect actor, her face showed nothing. But Snoe knew from the past that if he looked down at her hand, he would see exactly how angry she was. There, like a big red sign, was her hand balled so tightly blood dripped to the ground.
“No surprise, the tree is big. Your father was a powerful witch,” the priest said.
And here we go again. Snoe had heard it plenty of times before. It was all he’d ever heard—how his father was one of the most powerful Black coven leaders to ever be born. Well, power didn’t mean shit when you were dead.
The priest’s hand hovered over Snoe’s shoulder before he thought better of it and put it back down. He awkwardly stood around for another second or two before running off to speak to Hilde.
Snoe stared at the massive willow tree until a slap to his arm had him blinking past the water droplets obscuring his vision. It was none other than Dash. He wasn’t as good of an actor as his mother. His smug smile couldn’t be hidden whatsoever, not that Snoe thought he was trying all that hard.
“Come on, we must be on our way now,” Hilde said.
Snoe turned away from the tree and followed them into the limo. Per usual, every single one of them kept their distance from him, sitting on the far side of the limo. Snoe was fine with that. It meant he had more room to himself. He thought for a brief second the ride would be in silence, but Snoe should have known better than to hold out any hope when it came to Hilde. She crossed her ankles and sat forward a little as she set her cold, dead eyes on him.
“Why must you be this way?” she asked, her voice like a knife to a chalkboard. Hilde was all hard angles, with a deep frown that gave her more wrinkles in her otherwise smooth face.
Snoe relaxed further against the cushion. Why couldn’t they just leave him be? Snoe didn’t have the luxury of ignoring her and staring out the window. He couldn’t let his guard down around them. No matter how unthreatening, he was still technically the heir to the Blake coven.
“In what way am I being?” Snoe asked, already knowing the fact that he was breathing bothered her.
“Your father died—” She shook her head, not finishing her words.
“Mother, you shouldn’t even try. He didn’t even cry when his mother died,” Dash mocked. “He is as emotionless and worthless as the plants he hangs around.”
Snoe, emotionless? He wanted to laugh at the thought and would have if he didn’t think it would get him in further trouble. The ones who were truly emotionless were them. Snoe had learned long ago to stop showing his emotion to them.
Hilde seemed to accept that and said nothing more to Snoe. He was fine with that. He made sure not to show how Dash’s remarks about him had hurt, had dug into his very soul. Instead, Snoe just sat through it all as they made it back to the estate.
Snoe had every intention to disappear to his room out back amongst the garden but was stopped instantly. The day was never-ending.
“Young Master Blake, we need you for this meeting,” one of the elder witches said.
He tried to think of a way out of it, but nothing came to mind. Snoe had no desire to run a coven, to be just like his father. Couldn’t they just find someone else. A meeting sounded tedious and boring and not at all what Snoe wanted to do.
“Dash is more than capable—”
“I’m sorry, Hilde, but it is a tradition that the next Blake in the bloodline is there,” the elder interrupted.
Hilde tried again. “He has attended none of the other meetings. Dash, on the other hand—”
“I understand that was the previous leader’s wishes, but for now we must continue with the tradition as we are leaderless.”
Before Hilde could say another thing, the elder held up his hand, halting all words from her.
“This is a pressing matter as other covens try and take what is ours. Not only them, but vampires and shifters. Alister’s name kept them all at bay—the Blake name—and last I checked, Dash is not of the Blake bloodline.”
If Snoe’s father were still alive, he doubted Hilde would have stood there silently fuming over being shut down. But with no one backing her, she was nothing more than a widowed witch.
As much as Snoe was enjoying the show, he needed to make something very clear.
“I have no interest in becoming the next leader,” Snoe said. He shrugged. “My father was grooming Dash for the spot, anyway.”
“But—”
Snoe shook his head. He’d much rather be in his garden, left alone.
“So, if that’s all, I need to go shower and get out of these wet clothes,” Snoe said, turning on his heels.
He didn’t miss the anger in his stepmother’s eyes. Would anything make her happy? Snoe kept the sigh at bay as he walked away from the elder and his stepfamily and to the solitude of his flowers. He just wanted to live quietly amongst his roses. Was that too much to ask for?
Chapter Two
Snoe
Two weeks had passed since Snoe’s father’s death, and he’d had no run-ins with his stepfamily. He was no longer obligated to attend family dinners or parties. Snoe was left outside and alone just the way he liked it.
The sun shined down brightly, and by all rights it should have been a glorious day. Snoe tied his hair in a low ponytail as he got his favorite pair of shears, the same ones his late mother used to use. Even after all that time, they still worked great. He went about trimming the roses, collecting them in a basket, and he let his magic furl around the beautiful flowers. They seemed to perk up, soaking up his magic as if it were water on an otherwise dry day.