Chapter 60: Beltane

I shifted under the weight of the heavy black velvet cloak I was forced to wear to such witchy occasions and tried not to make my discomfort obvious to the gathered coven. Namely, to my mother who stood, similarly dressed, beside me. Surrounding me, suffocating me, was the press of the coven, about a hundred odd men, women and children, tied together by magic, chosen allegiance and blood lines.

At least the cloak was warm. It helped I bundled on a turtleneck and wool sweater before I left the house, but the cloak cut the last of the chill. I guess that meant it was actually good for something.

Fueled by my uncommon bout of optimism, I tried, really tried, to focus on my mother's droning voice as she began the evening's incantation, leading up to the power spike that I, Sydlynn Hayle, unhappy witch and demon child, would use to light the Beltane bonfire and welcome spring.

Yipee for me.

Still, I had trouble concentrating with all the extra crap floating around in my head. Crap I had