Page 5

“How many are we doing?” she asks, pulling a stool to my side.

“Two,” I reply, laying my right arm on the plastic armrest. “One on each.”

“I blended the metal and spelled it. We should be good to go.” She smiles gently.

“Let’s do it.” I lean back and close my eyes.

“Tell me if it becomes too much,” she says softly.

“I will.”

I exhale slowly as the tattoo gun fires up.

I'm not afraid of pain. Many times, feeling pain has helped control my magic. Tattoos don’t scare me, and if it were a normal session with regular ink, it would be a breeze. Lace mixes a special blend of ink and gold, helping tie me to the physical world.

I'm a witch who can dream-walk. When I sleep, I can slip into anyone’s dreams, and if I don’t have something on my body that holds me to the world, I could get lost in them. It’s taken years of practice and failed attempts on materials and methods. Wearing gold bracelets helps, but I get tired of wearing them to bed. Lace has done the same tattoo four times, two on each arm. A couple of them are solid bands, thin like the jewelry. The other two are thin, yet have decorative beads hanging from them. Today, we're adding two more, one solid, the other decorative.

I'll grit my teeth through the agonizing pain. Going over the scars is not fun, and the one she's preparing to work on will be the worst. Before I had access to other methods of control, I used a knife to keep my mind in the world. Making myself bleed before I slept was a drastic measure. It was a time in my life I don’t want to forget. It was dark and scary, but it reminds me of my love for life. I wanted to survive. My granny has been my rock and has sat by my bed, watching over me. Many years were spent sleeping for two hours at a time, and my body was deteriorating quickly. Granny tried every protection spell she could to keep me alive. So, when humans look at my forearms and sneer, it doesn’t affect me. Their minds can’t imagine what I had to do to wake up another day.

As the needle hits my skin, I sink deeper into my mind, grasping at anything to distract me.

I’ve spent the last three weeks at my granny’s. She lives in a little cabin on a vast piece of land. There are many animals and a grand garden. We explored the land, had tea parties, and talked quietly about our wishes and dreams. She's my safe space, and the best woman I know. There was no one for miles. My dream spells have to have a vessel. The less populated the area, the better. Staying there was a welcome break. It’s difficult to be on guard every night. At least every six months, I plan a trip to see her. She looks like a young woman, yet she's in her nineties and acts twenty. She's silly, outspoken, and kind. I like to believe I take after her in many ways. Her sunny disposition fuels mine.

Life is magical. Why not have a good time living it?

Being a witch is a gift, and even though I've had many setbacks with my spells, I wouldn’t ever want to give it up. I have all the basic skills: fire, protection, and the ability to read anyone's aura and intent. I've studied and practiced more advanced skills. Moving objects is fun, but not something I use every day. Location spells come easily to me. If someone is intent on harming me, I could protect myself. Our bodies are human, but magic makes us strong. I wouldn’t be easy to kill.

Sometimes, I see the future in my dreams. It can be difficult to distinguish between a normal dream and a vision of what’s to come. I predicted Mara’s bond would come to her. Rome found my friend and helped her harness her out-of-control spells. I didn’t meet him until I returned from Granny’s. He's the other half of her soul, and it makes my romantic heart get mushy when I see them together.

Witches and warlocks can wait years to find the one meant for them. A soul bond happens once in your life. They are the one person who can complete you and stabilize your magic. Witches can bond with warlocks or humans. Our magic is what draws us to the person, and the universe is rarely wrong. When you meet, it’s possible to ignore the bond, yet it's not recommended. If you do, you won’t have another chance, and you'll feel empty forever. It's our choice to embrace it or walk away.

Mara had to wear gloves to shield her skin from others' touch. If she had contact with anyone, she would have visions of their life and experience it as if she lived it. Her power made her lonely and miserable. Touching a bad guy's skin made it torturous.

Rome thrives off the energy of others. His power is great, and he helped Mara channel her magic. He adores her, and the pain is gone from her body and mind. The two are untouchable now since they completed the bond and combined their spells. I admire them both, and it’s been nice to have Mara’s happy energy fill our shop.

I have hoped for the kind of bond they have. Until I met Mara and Lace, my only consistent relationship was with Granny. She filled the hole that my parents left. They are more concerned with traveling the world than raising a daughter. I've accepted their absence for what it is, and it’s not my fault. Loving someone shouldn’t be hard, especially family. They aren’t capable of loving anyone but themselves, and it’s their loss.

A sharp pain shoots up my arm. Lace moves on to the beads, and I take a few breaths to steady my heart rate. We agreed to start with the more elaborate tattoo. It’s easier to get the more time-consuming one out of the way first. I’ve never avoided the hard things. Surviving as best I can has always been my goal. I’m not shy. I like having meaningful conversations, going out to eat with friends, and indulging in all the good things. I like to eat, as evidenced by the curve of my hips and stomach. My spells keep me fit, but my body is naturally curvy. I love it, and dress up every day. My wardrobe is similar to what the image of a witch is in the human world. I wear long, flowy dresses, skirts, and tops. I love color, so they're bright and bold. The bracelets I slide on my wrists every morning are gold, but I tint them with my magic. My long blond hair is usually in braids, as it is today. I added blue flowers in the thick strands to match my blue skirt. My makeup is light and sprinkled with sparkle.

My granny calls me her little fairy. Despite the hell my childhood was, I always smiled and danced around the house. My personality can be too much for some people, yet I refuse to dim myself to suit others. It’s been hard to make true friends. I chatter, and many don’t understand how I can be so happy. I would like to tell them that if I don’t revel in life, I'll end up crying in the corner. They truly don’t want to know the things I have to live with, so why bother? Meeting the sisters felt like coming home. I stumbled across the bookstore and recognized another magicked person. Mara’s personality is the opposite of mine, but I never blamed her for being cautious. Lace is quiet, but not afraid to speak up when needed. Her power is small, and I sense it hiding in her, waiting for the right time to explode. She's talented with ink, spelling it so it lasts as long as possible. I know she's wishing for her magic to come, and I feel for her. There are good and bad elements in each scenario. Having massive amounts of spells can be challenging to control, yet when she sees all the things Mara and I can do, she feels left out.

“Done,” she says, scooting back. “Do you need a break?”

I stretch out my arm. “I’m good. Let’s do the other.”

She stands and moves the stool to my other side. I stare at my finished skin and smile. It hurts horribly, yet looks so beautiful. After we're done, I'll use the cream that I spelled to ease the pain. It won’t last long, but my body needs time to adjust to the new material. Lace works fast, so I won’t have to endure much longer. The bands wrap around my forearm so they'll be sensitive for the next few days, and I’ll have to be careful where I place my arms.

I suck in a breath as she begins on new skin. The chirp of a notification on my phone distracts me. When I glance at it, I realize I would rather deal with the pain. My mother sent a message. She goes through phases; sometimes she won’t reach out for months, other times, it’s weekly. I ignore her as much as I can. We have nothing to talk about.

“Do you need to get that?” Lace asks.

“No,” I sigh, turning my head. “My mom.”

She grimaces. “Why can’t she leave you alone?”

“If I knew, I would do whatever needed to make her,” I snort.

“I wonder if Rome can think of a spell to help,” she says.