Love Spell #Wattys2020

Chapter One

Oma lit the remaining candles in the room, including the black flame candle. The black flame licked and danced in the air, despite there being no breeze in the house. Oma had covered most of her Victorian house in dark cloths and shadowy colored lace. If my whole life wasn't about to change, I'd almost enjoy the ambiance.

"Tonight is the night, Tabitha," Oma said ominously. "It's the beginning of the rest of your life." She tucked back her long silver hair into her scarf and gave me an affectionate smile.

Since I was little, she'd always said things like that, just a little too dramatic and with ample thrashing of her arms, her many rings on her fingers clanking. I wasn't sure if she talked like that because it was part of her character, or if it was because she was a witch. I had a sneaking suspicion that it was all her. We were all witches and none of us were as dramatic as Oma. Then again, we weren't as experienced as she was.

I felt eyes on me and became acutely aware of my sisters and their hard stares. Sabrina was the oldest; her fiery red hair matched my mother's. Matilda was the second oldest and sat to the left of Sabrina. Her golden hair, baby face, and blue eyes were a stark contrast to the rest of us. To my left sat my youngest sister, Esmeralda. Her hair was straight and jet black, her nose slightly crooked, an exact likeliness of my father.

I stared down in my lap, my hands were trembling. This was it. Tonight, after twenty years, I'd find out who my true love was. And I'd have exactly one year to make him fall in love with me or I'd suffer the terrible consequences. I didn't want to think about that now but as of late, that's all that had occupied my mind. I reached a shaking hand up and smoothed down my long, wavy chestnut hair. It was just like my aunt Griselda's, my green eyes were too.

I didn't know what to do with my nerves, so finally I tucked my hands between my legs and the chair, and attempted to focus on my breathing. My sisters had been so calm, so confident during their Flamma ceremony. Why did I feel so scared? They'd been through this, The Selection. All of them, except Esmeralda. She still had a few more years. She stared at the black flame candle as quizzically as I did. My sister's selections were smooth, predictable. Nothing in my life was ever smooth or predictable. I feared the worst.

Aunt Griselda took her seat at the table and ran her long, bony fingers across the velvet wine-colored tablecloth. "Are we ready? It's time. I can feel it," she said.

I glanced at the clock on the wall—it was moments until midnight.

Oma wore a long black lace veil over her hair and the sight of our ceremony garments were enough to make me giggle. But I did not. Mother would be very disappointed if I did. She was always saying that I never took our Gifts seriously enough. And I was far too scared of the outcome to laugh.

"The veil," my mother said, motioning to me. I lifted the white lace veil over my face and stared directly across the wooden table at Oma.

Oma picked up the tea pot and swirled it several times in the air before tipping it over and pouring a steaming cup of tea. She pushed it across the table until it say directly in front of me. The aroma was sweet like raspberries and black berries but the tea was coal black. I have never been so afraid of a beverage in my life.

I tilted the glass a little, trying to see to the bottom.

"What's in this?" I asked. The steam from the cup was bizarre. It moved and swayed as if it was alive. This stream didn't just dance, it seemed to pulse.

"Drink up," Oma commanded, her voice calming and even. "You must drink every single drop." She stood and came around behind me, tilting the cup up toward my chin. I thought it might be too hot to consume but when the midnight colored liquid met my lips, it was not hot at all. It was freezing cold, as if it had been brewed over ice instead of fire. The cool liquid set in my mouth and at first, I tasted nothing. Then everything changed.