D G Swank - Descended from Shadows

Copyright 2019 by Denise Grover Swank

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M y sisters would hate me if we werent related, Celeste complained. They probably do anyway. Her words were laced with anger, but her voice was soft. While our therapist considered this with a pitying expression, Celeste turned to us and said, Im different from you two. Always have been, always will be, and we all know it.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I blinked against the burning. Celestes problem wasnt with me, not really. It wasnt about our sister Rowan either, but she still responded to Celestes comment with a dismissive huff.

Lets unpack that a little bit, shall we? Our counselor stretched back in his chair, emphasizing his long, slim torso and his unfortunate ensemble of a plaid collared shirt and pleated-front khakis. If I were a different woman, capable of dating normal men, I might have been inclined to help him improve his fashion sense and, in the process, find out what kind of muscles were under his clothes. However, I, Phoebe Whelan, daughter of one of the oldest magic-bearing families in the world, would not be dating anyone anytime soon.

I had other things to worry about. My sisters and I had a job to do, a sacred commitment to keep that could fall to no one else. It bound our lives to our land and the book, which meant wed all spent the last six years frozen in place. To me, it was annoying. To my older sister Rowan, it was unfair. To my baby sister Celeste, it was the reason we were sitting side by side on a couch in this therapists office, talking about our family problems in coded language to make them sound anything close to normal. Because as hard as our familys legacy could be on Rowan and me, it was slowly driving Celeste mad.

Theres nothing to unpack, Rowan said, curling her index and middle fingers into air quotes around the therapists favorite buzzword, if its not true. None of these issues have anything to do with whether we like you.

If Rowan was trying to disguise her absolute frustration at having to come to family therapy, it wasnt working, a fact I triedand failedto convey with a look.

We love you, Celeste. I reached to the side to wrap my fingers over hers. She stiffened at the gesture and my heart panged.

As if programmed to sound at the most crucial moment of the session, the soft tone announcing the end of our time with Kevin, as he insisted we call him, went off. He tilted his head and said, Sadly, our time is up. For homework, Id like Phoebe and Rowan to each consciously do one thing this week to show Celeste how much they appreciate her contributions to the household, okay?

A low grunt came from the far end of the couch where Rowan sat, offsetting my enthusiastic nod. Celestes expression remained slack, as she stared vacantly at the far end of the room. Her eyes looked watery now, and I gently tugged her to her feet while Rowan stalked to the exit without another word.

Thank you, Kevin, I said, smiling apologetically for my hothead sister. Well see you in a couple weeks.

I kept my arm around my sisters back as we left the office, and suddenly I was reminded of one of the times my mom had taken us all to the park when we were little. Rowan and I had been playing on the slide when wed noticed Celeste silently crying while two older girls ridiculed her for talking to rocks like they were real. Rowan was eight and I was seven, but wed instantly come to her defense. After Rowan had chased the older girls away, Id wrapped my arms around Celeste and told her that Rowan and I would always be there to take care of her.

Turned out Id lied. There was no making this okay, and I was starting to become scared. How did we fix my baby sister?

Celeste squinted when we stepped out into daylight, shielding her eyes from the admittedly blinding rays. She hated the sun, despite having the enviable appearance of sunshine itself, with a head full of bright blond curls and a beautiful pink flush that colored her cheeks at the slightest physical exertion.

Keeping the Book of Sindal hidden from the world took a toll on all of us, but not in the physical ways it affected her. Celestes abilities were crucial to keeping the book safe, but they sucked the power out of her at every moment of every day, leaving her nerves frayed and fragile.

And we were due to replenish the books protections this evening.

Rowan had already lowered her sunglasses into place and was walking at a fast clip toward her brand-new carlast years hottest luxury SUV. She didnt need something so nice, but Rowan had always loved her shiny things, as big and flashy as she could manage. Shed taken extra freelance writing assignments for a year to save enough for that car without having to ask the Council for a supplement to the small stipend they gave us, so I figured there were bigger battles to fight. Celeste hadnt commented on the car when it came home a few days ago either, but then, Celeste hardly commented on anything anymore.

She was getting worse, and Rowan and I both knew it.

Celeste climbed into the back seat and shut down. I took the passenger seat, glancing into the mirror on the visor for a glimpse at my little sisters pale face.

When can we quit doing this pointless bullshit? Rowan bit out after a few minutes of careening through the curved backroads that took us home.

Okay, so she and I dealt with stress in different ways.

If by pointless bullshit you mean the therapy to help Celeste? We promised Mack three sessions. That means one more, I reminded her with plenty of bite, stopping myself from saying more.

Mack was the foreman of the auto parts factory where Celeste worked. Her job wasnt ideal, but the repetitive nature of assembling engine parts gave her mind something ordered to focus on, to distract from the chaos that raged through it day in and day out. Some days, she was able to control it better than others. A couple of months ago, the worst of those other days had resulted in a mangled assembly line belta fellow worker had tried to pinch Celestes ass and shed lost control. It only took a second of intense thought or emotion from Celeste for the unpredictable, powerful magic that flowed through her to cause serious damage. Most witches, including Rowan and me, needed to draw upon the elements associated with our specific magic. Celestes expression magic came from nothingshe pulled it from the natural world around her. Out of thin air, basically.

Many of our kind thought it was impossible. That a deal with the devil must be responsible.

It wasnt impossible, and the devil had nothing to do with it. But it cost Celeste dearly, and that day at the factory, her magic had almost cost a nonmagic human his life. The guy was a prick, undoubtedly, but he didnt deserve to die for it.

Mack was a mage gifted at memory alteration, thank the gods. He ensured that all the nonmagical factory workers gave the same account of Celestes victim nearly dying as he blatantly ignored safety regulations. Mack had told us we could thank him by making sure Celeste never even got close to doing something similar ever again.

Wed tried conventional psychiatric meds, but they were designed for normal human problems, and normal human needs. We were witches. Nothing about us was normal, even if every detail of our lives was carefully planned to make us fit in.