"What happened?" A man's voice said, piercing the darkness.
"I don't know. I found her like this," Carver's voice responded.
"You saw the engravings on the arrow Carver." The voice responded, "You told me she wasn't one of us."
"I didn't think she was. Normally powers manifest themselves much earlier than this," Carver replied gravely.
"That was a lie, boy, and I promise that it will be you; it will be the last one you tell me," The voice responded. I realized with a start that it was the man claiming to be our grandfather. But what were they talking about? What did one of us mean was this some kind of cult?
"She's awake," Carver whispered to our grandfather. "Hey, Cordelia, honey, how are you feeling?"
I opened my eyes to see that I was lying on what looked to be like a hotel bed. "Where are we?" I asked, sitting up confused.
"You're in my hotel room, dear," Grandfather said, now sitting in a chair across the room.
"But how did I get here?" My voice wavered. I tried to remember how I got here, but my mind was blank. I remembered waking up and going to the dance studio, but after that, there was nothing.
I sat up gingerly, and Carver helped me. I winced slightly at shooting pain in my chest.
"You got here because you were shot in the chest with a crossbow by an assassin, and then you killed that assassin burning down a building in the process," Grandfather said, drawing my attention back to him. "It was the most impressive manifestation I've ever heard of, although next time, I would recommend killing the assassin before he shoots." Carver glared at him but didn't say anything.
"You do realize that that's crazy, right," I said, figuring that he must be senile and that Carver was just humoring him.
I looked down at my chest, checking to make sure there wasn't an arrow jutting out of it. Sure enough, my chest was arrow free; what I saw instead was almost more horrifying. There was a jagged open wound right in the center of my chest as if someone yanked an arrow out of my chest. However, the most terrifying thing wasn't the whole in my chest or the blood-soaked leotard the had been cut open to get to my wound, but watching the wound slowly knit itself back together.
I screamed and tried to scratch at my chest as if I could get away from whatever was causing the miraculous healing, but I barely moved before grandfather flicked his hand, causing my wrists to be pinned to the headboard. I struggled instinctively against the invisible binding. I wasn't sure whether I was more awestruck or terrifying.
"Is this really necessary?" Carver asks sadly, but careful to keep any challenge out of his voice.
"Yes, seeing as you're father failed to properly inform her about our heritage, it falls to us, and I don't have the patients for all the theatrics," He said crossly. I wanted to cry, but I had a feeling that bawling my eyes out as I wanted to would only make the situation worse. "My dear, you belong to a very ancient warlock family, one of the four first warlock families in our world. Of course, there are many other warlock families, although none are as old or as powerful" He paused with a self-satisfied look. "Each of these families is characterized by the unique power of elemental control. Our family has the ability to control fire".
"This is ridiculous," I say, wishing my arms weren't pinned behind me as I was beginning to feel restless. "Even if magic does exist wouldn't I be a witch instead of a warlock? And why wouldn't our father have told us about these abilities. I mean, it's incredible why would he deprive us of that life". I remembered being little and wishing for magical powers, just like most kids did. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought that I might actually have them.
"Your father was a ridiculous man. However, he did have sense enough to train your brother. I could not tell you why he choose to keep you ignorant. Perhaps he just thought you didn't inherit the gift. Being a warlock means that our powers are passed down through the family's men, whereas witches inherit their powers from their mothers. Because of this, most females born to warlock families never manifest any abilities; the same goes for men in which families; however, there are female warlocks and male witches." Grandfather explains, grimacing slightly in disgust at the mention of witches.
I glance at Carver feeling hurt that our father chose to confide in him and not me.
"What about Charlotte and Channing?" I asked. As amazing as it seemed, I already excepted that magic existed. I doubt I would have been so quick to accept it if I hadn't seen evidence of it with my own eyes. Accepting that I was one of the people who possessed the ability to produce magic was a little harder to believe, although as much as I hated to admit it, I wanted it to be true more than anything.
"They're not like us," Carver said quickly. "They're actually only our half-siblings from a previous relationship mom had." I blinked, shocked at the news, although I guess that explained why they looked so much like mom rather than dad.
"Anyway, we need to be getting back to England. I have a flight booked for the day after tomorrow. You too don't have to worry about anything. I've had all the arrangements made. I'll have a car sent to your house and bring you to the airport then" Grandfather flicked his wrist, releasing me. "I have some calls I have to make, but you can stay until you feel strong enough to head home" He put on a jacket and headed out of the door, not giving me time to object.
By now the hole in my chest had closed up with nothing to indicate that I had almost died. I stood up, seeing the hoodie that I'd worn to the studio this morning draped over a chair along with the rest of my stuff. I grabbed it, pulling it on, feeling slightly dizzy. Whether it was from the injury I'd suffered or the information that had drastically altered my reality I couldn't be sure.
"You should probably stay sitting for a little bit. The spell grandfather cast is a powerful one, but even with a spell that powerful cast by someone like grandfather, it'll take at least a little bit for you to feel completely normal again," Carver said, gently guiding me back to the bed.
"What do you mean someone like him?" I asked, realizing that Carver might be able to answer some of the questions grandfather hadn't.
"Grandfather is a mighty warlock. Quite possibly the most powerful one alive right now. He is also the equivalent of the president of our society," Carver said. Before I could ask him to elaborate on that, Carver continued anticipating my question. "Grandfather is the high Priest of the cardinal coven. They lead several covens that represent the authority for different regions where there are large communities of warlocks.".
I nodded, trying to process this all. I guess it would make sense that warlocks would have their own version of government.
"Why is he in charge? Is it because he's so powerful?" I asked, curious about this world. My world, I mentally corrected myself.
"Kind of," He said with a shrug, "Members of the cardinal coven are comprised of five warlocks from the four main warlock families. These individuals are identified by their ability to not only control the element of their family but create it. There is one from every family in every generation. When they bind the coven together, it's revealed who the high priest is. The others are warriors, a healer, or an advisor. Most warlocks choose to belong to a coven although some choose to remain alone because while being part of a coven offers a certain amount of protection, it also binds you with the other members of your coven."
"So you are going to be part of the cardinal coven?" I asked, remembering what grandfather had said that we were descendants from one of those families.
"Yes, and so are you. That's why dad didn't want you to know about this world." Carver said seriously, sitting down next to me, "What grandfather didn't say was that this world is dangerous, especially for you. Being a member of this family puts you at risk. Grandfather has made many enemies, and several others would like to use you to get to him and gain power. This is also a patriarchal world; there are many who would object to a girl being a member of the cardinal coven. I think dad wanted to protect you from that as well. The attempt on your life confirms that Dad was right to try and keep you from this".
"So let's run away or just refuse to go if it's so dangerous" I took Carver's hand in mine. "We have more than enough money to live out the rest of our lives off the grid together."
"Now that Grandfather has found us, there is nowhere we can run from him. Dad running away, put a stain on our family name. A stain that only his grandchildren can help him remove and restore the family legacy. There is no way that he's going to let us go," Carver said sadly. "I tried my best to conceal you from him, but I guess it was only a matter of time before grandfather caught up with us. What we need to do now is try our best to protect ourselves by preparing for anything. For you, that means learning the craft".
"Are you going to teach me?" I asked, feeling excited despite myself. I was going to get to learn how to use magic.
"No," Carver frowned. "Once we're in England, we'll be sent to Crestworth Academy. It's the best school for warlocks in Europe, so that way we'll be properly trained".
"Oh, so it's kind of like Hogwarts," I smiled, picturing the fictional castle in my head. I'd cried when I hadn't gotten my Hogwarts letter when I was eleven, and now I was going to the real-life version, even if it was a couple of years late.
"I guess. I don't actually know that much about Crestworth. You have to keep in mind that Dad only taught me things to keep you, and me safe and hidden." Carver looked uncertain for the first time since we'd started this conversation.
I squeezed his hand gently. "It wasn't fair of him to put that on you," I said softly. I realized how lucky I must vehave been to have beensent away to live a normal life and not have to carry the burden placed on Carver from a young age. I realized why Carver had seemed so resentful, and it made sense now. I must have seemed like a brat complaining about how my parents hadn't loved me when, in fact, they loved me enough to try and protect me by giving me a normal life. I'm surprised he didn't hate me.
"It's ok. It wasn't all bad," Carver smiled. "It really is incredible being able to use magic. It's a rush, unlike anything you've ever felt before. If you want, when we get home, I can teach you some of the basics so you won't be so behind when we get to Crestworth.
"Ok," I smiled at him before wrapping my arms around him. I felt tears threatening to well up in my eyes. About a million emotions were coursing through me right now. The thrill of finding out magic existed, a renewed sadness for my parents' death, and terror about the danger and uncertainty that was ahead.
"Come on, I think it's probably ok for us to head home. Although I would advise that you keep the hoodie on to hide the bloody leotard from Charlotte," Carver chuckled as if imaging Charlotte's reaction to seeing me covered in blood.
We drove in silence, and it felt like Carver was trying to give me time to process everything I'd learned, for which I was thankful. I felt as if I'd been living with a veil over my eyes that had been lifted. I had about a million more questions I wanted to ask, but I didn't think I could handle any new information at the moment. I noticed that Carver also seemed lighter than I'd seen him in a long time, and I guess it made sense. Carver had been carrying around a huge secret and a huge burden that he'd finally been able to share, and I was happy that I'd been able to help my brother.
We pulled into the long driveway, and I saw Charlotte hovering on the porch, and Carver waved. Charlotte smiled sadly back at us as we pulled up in front of the house and stepped out.
"I'm so sorry, you guys I tried talking your grandfather into letting you stay here, but he insisted that you were to go with him to England. I would have made arrangements for your stuff to be sent over, but he refused that too said he would get you anything you needed once you were there," Charlotte said, her voice wavering.
I wondered why she was crying when she was the one who insisted that we were going to have to live with him in the first place.
"Hey, it's ok, Char," Carver said, "You don't have to worry about us. We'll still call and visit as often as we can".
I realized, feeling shocked that Charlotte was actually going to miss us. She had thought that if we lived with grandfather that we would still live at home in Louisiana.
I gave her a hug hoping to comfort her. "It's ok Char, it's London, not Timbucktoo. If you ever feel the urge to see big ben, just come over and visit us". I remembered all the times that Charlotte had hugged me when I cried because I'd felt overshadowed by Carver, and I was glad that I had the chance to repay the kindness that she'd shown me all those years ago.
"You guys are right. I'm just being silly," Charlotte wiped her eyes laughing. "If you guys are hungry, there are some leftovers in the fridge," She continued trying to regain her composure.
We nodded, walking inside, letting Charlotte lead us inside and fuss about dinner as she pulled containers of leftovers from the wake the previous day. Channing ran downstairs smelling the food. Since Charlotte's husband and children had headed back to her home in Virginia earlier this morning, it was just the four of us. It dawned on me that this was the first time we'd eaten together in years and would be the last time we would do so for a long time. Channing was going back to school tomorrow morning, and Carver and I were leaving for London the following day. Despite this knowledge, I tried to enjoy the feeling of being part of a close-knit family. By the end of the meal, I could even pretend that everything was back to normal. I helped Channing with the dishes as Carver cleared the table, and Charlotte left to call her kids.
I tried searching Channings face for some resemblance to dad, but I couldn't find anything. He and Charlotte had always looked so much like mom that I'd never considered the fact that they looked nothing like dad. I wondered if either of them knew that they were only our half-siblings. I guess in the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter. What was one more small secret when there were already so many between us?
After everything was put away, I pulled Carver aside, careful to speak softly so that we wouldn't be overheard.
"So are we gonna do the thing you said we would earlier," I asked, careful to keep from sounding too excited.
"No, it's already dark; anything we would do now might draw attention," Carver smiled at my eagerness. "I would say we could practice inside, but since you're so untrained, that's probably not a good idea."
"Oh, ok," I sighed.
"You should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow's not going to be easy, and you're still probably a little weak from earlier," Carver said hugging me before gently pushing me towards the stairs. I stuck my tongue out at him smiling, feeling for the first time in a long time like I belonged to a family.
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Authors Note: Hey, Guys! I hope you like the new part! Please vote and comment with thoughts and feedback! Thanks so much for reading :)