Coven War Preview
It was a hot and sticky morning in the middle of summer, and I didn’t know it yet but everything was about to change. Granted, everything seemed normal enough to me when I woke up. I got up extra early, coaxed my younger brother Jonah out of bed, and got him to engage in some exercises – energetically for me, and for Jonah… well, we were doing good just making sure Jonah was awake. Well, a little awake. At least he wasn’t trying to fall asleep at the table while I got ready for work like he’d done just the day before yesterday.
Jonah and I had been living on our own in our little rundown apartment in the Slums for about a year now; before then we’d been living on the streets crashing where we could and always on the lookout for our mother’s bangers, who tried to drag us back home to her more than once. Living on the streets had been hard on both of us. It wasn’t safe, and with me still in recovery at the time everything had seemed ten times worse than it could have been. With very little money, no health insurance, and no place to go there had been no way Jonah could take me to the doctor after what had happened to me the night we left. I couldn’t even go to a doctor on a normal day, but I’d been so hurt he’d actually considered risking taking me into the ER. It took a lot of convincing on my part but I’d managed to convince him not to take me to the hospital, and I’d had to heal up on my own with as much first aid as Jonah could give me. Jonah told me that there were days he’d go to sleep with the fear that when he woke up I’d be dead… and then he’d have no one. That was all I needed to hear to make sure that I pulled through. Jonah was younger than me by a couple of years but most of the time it felt like he was taking care of me more than I was taking care of him, so it was only fair that I pulled through so he wouldn’t have to be alone.
“Jonah, wake up,” I laughed as I saw him begin to droop over his sketchbook.
“Why do I have to be awake anyways, Sam? School’s out for the summer!” Jonah grumbled and dramatically slumped forward across the counter. “You’re the morning person, not me.”
I finished up my lap around the living room and unofficial greenhouse, putting the watering can down in the sink so I could refill it while I watched my brother out of the corner of my eye. “You told me to get you up early today, remember? You said you were gonna fill out job applications at the library first thing this morning.”
Jonah turned and looked up at me, his bunched eyebrows making a little wrinkle on the bridge of his nose, “This isn’t ‘morning’, this’s dawn!”
“It’s seven o’clock Jonah!”
“Da-wn. Say it with me Sam, da-wn.” I rolled my eyes at Jonah and turned off the faucet, returning the now full watering can to its place on one of my work tables. Most of the furniture in our apartment didn’t match – mostly because it had all been thrifted or dumpster dived – but Jonah and I had done our best to make everything match by painting over it all in shades of blue and green. Not only were those our favorite colors, but they were kind of symbolic of who we were. You see, Jonah and I aren’t exactly human. Mostly, we are… but, well, we’re also partially not. Human, that is. Not entirely human. What the other part is neither of us is really sure. I mean we’ve poured over every mythology books we could smuggle home from the library under our mom’s nose, and there were things that kinda made sense, but we didn’t have any definite answers. All we do know is that I was born, well, for lack of better phrasing, part flower, and Jonah’s kind of a cross between a mermaid and the creature from the blue lagoon - minus being entirely covered in scales and the green skin. He does have gills on the side of his neck he has to hide with scarves, an extra set of eyelids, and webbed fingers and toes, though. As for me… I’m the real freak in the family. I was born with an active root system surrounding my spinal column on top of and under my skin, and poppies that grow all over my body. I can conceal their growth to a degree, making them grow under my skin for short periods of time or retreat back along my skin so they’re only growing around my main root system but that takes a lot of concentration. It’s much easier to just wear big baggy clothing and hide them, even though it leaves me in constant pain.
“You’re not saying it with me Sam,” Jonah chided, bringing me back to the present, “Seven o’clock is dawn to me.”
Brothers. Such a pain in the roots. “Seven o’clock is not dawn Jonah, dawn was at five o’clock this morning. I should know, the sun woke me up. Besides,” I plopped down beside him at the counter on my bar stool and reached over to grab one of the breakfast bars I’d made earlier that week, “you don’t consider it to be daytime until the moon’s in the sky.”
Jonah snorted and closed his sketchbook, shoving it into his messenger bag as he got ready for the day. “You’re damn right I don’t. I rise with the moon, and you rise with the sun. That’s the difference between plants and water,” I couldn’t help smiling at Jonah’s joke, and when he reached out to hug me I leaned in eagerly to the contact. I still wasn’t comfortable around most people, and rarely ever let anyone touch me, but I knew I was safe with Jonah. Other people who didn’t know my secret could easily crush my poppies or dig at my root system just by trying to give me a hug or a pat on the shoulder, and I had very bad experiences with most of the people that actually knew about my secret, but never with Jonah. He’d never let me down before, and I would have never been able to get through our childhood, or away from our mother, without him. I owed him everything.
“Does this mean you’re going to get ready to go to the library now?” I looked down at Jonah, smiling as a few of my poppies wrapped their stems around his fingers in their own hug. They might be plants, but they’re a part of me and react to how I’m feeling. So when I’m in good moods they tend to spread out or wrap around other people; normal people don’t tend to realize it but plants do this naturally, but they tend to do it much slower so it’s easier to miss.
Jonah gently disentangled himself from my poppies and asked, “I dunno, does this mean you’ll let me choose what you wear to work today?” He had that gleam in his eyes that was normally reserved for his sketch book.
Oh no, not this again.
“Jonah…” I sighed exasperatedly, “Jonah we’ve been over this. I can’t wear a dress, or shorts, or anything like that. People will see.”
He backpedaled a little, his hands held up in front of him in defense, “Okay, okay, and I heard you. Please, let me pick out your clothes today. You’ll like what I choose this time. I promise.”
As much as I knew that whatever Jonah would put me in would be fashionable, I was more concerned about blending in and hiding my poppies; even if that meant that I had to wear thick clothes that would crush my petals and leave me in pain. The last thing we needed was to have attention drawn to us. On the other hand Jonah was giving me that begging look that he knew I couldn’t turn down. I tried to resist, but he scooted closer and looked up at me with those big baby blues at his and- “Fine. Fine! You can pick out my clothes-”
“And do your makeup?” Jonah interrupted me with an eager smile, his own golden eyeliner lined eyes sparkling up at me. I scowled down at Jonah until he gave in with a beleaguered smile, “Fine, sis, fine, but you could be looking really fierce if you’d just let me do your makeup.”
“I thought the new word was lit,” frowning in confusion at my lack of vocabulary I began to munch on my breakfast bar.
“Just cause people are saying lit, doesn’t mean I can’t still use fierce,” Jonah chided before spinning on his heel and heading off to my room so he could rifle through my clothes.
Considering the way he was being extra forceful about this lately I assumed he’d managed to get me some new thrifted clothes and hadn’t told me. Whatever. Jonah was better at handling our finances than I was, so if he thought that we had money to spare on buying me new clothes then we did. Besides, every time I asked Jonah about our expenses he told us that he had them handled. Jonah had taken care of the books for mom as well so I had to assume he knew what he was doing, and if anything went wrong I trusted Jonah to tell me.
By the time I’d finished my meager breakfast and put away the dishes Jonah returned to shove me towards my room so I could appraise the clothes he had laid out on my bed. I had been right, all of the clothes were new and much more girly than I would normally choose for myself, though… it looked like they would be loose and comfortable; much less likely to make me get heat exhaustion like I’d been getting when I dressed myself. It would help keep me from needing to go to the bathroom constantly since every bit of sweat my body would try to release in this heat was actually absorbed by my poppies’ roots before it ever reached the surface, so, while I never got sticky I had to drink water all the time during the summer. I’d done some research into it after one summer when I kept passing out and discovered that I probably had a non-human equivalent to hypohidrotic ectodermal dysplasia which is really just a fancy way of saying my sweat glands have never worked because my DNA is all messed up.
When I looked up to tell Jonah that I’d give the outfit a shot he’d already exited my bedroom and closed the door behind him. The clothes were pretty easy to put on, the pants were black and had huge pockets and lots of space around my thighs where my poppies were more than happy to hide since there was space enough for them to sit comfortably without being bruised. The shirt Jonah had found was nearly as good and hung lopsidedly off my shoulders and was almost the exact color green as my eyes, with all sorts of gold and brown designs all over it. I turned to examine myself in the cracked mirror I had hung over the back of my door and stopped.
I almost didn’t recognize myself. Normally I was resigned to baggy cargo pants and loose stuffy sweaters to give my poppies as much room as I could while covering as much skin as possible, but this… These clothes were actually comfortable, and the shirt brought out the gold highlights in my eyes and made my hair look like a golden curly halo instead of just a ball of fluff. I looked… pretty. Actually, pretty.
I must have stood standing there staring at myself for a while because Jonah knocked on my door and asked, “Sam? You okay in there? You didn’t get lost trying to get into that shirt, did you?”
Instead of answering him directly I opened the door and took the few steps forward to give him a hug. “You made me look pretty,” I whispered, sniffling my gratitude into his shoulder..
“H-hey, hey now,” Jonah protested, pushing me back a little and looking up at me, “You’ve always been pretty. I just found clothes I thought you’d like better than those ugly sweaters.” He gently wiped away my tears and took a few steps back so he didn’t have to crane his neck to look up at me, pointing his finger down to the ground and spinning it in a circle, “Now, let me look at you.” I laughed giddily and spun around at his demand, letting him fix how the shirt and pants fit until he was satisfied. “Think you’ll change your mind on letting me do your makeup?”
“Jonah I don’t want to look like a girl,” I protested.
“Hey, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with lookin’ like a girl,” he reprimanded sternly as he handed me a pair of brown and gold sandals to put on.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” I had to balance on one foot while I put on a sandal, “takin’ those backways home it’s easier if I don’t look too girly. Those guys that sit out on the stoops overlook me if I look more masculine.”
Jonah grimaced in distaste, and I could see anger behind those blue eyes of his. “You’d tell me if any of them were buggin’ you, right?” When I didn’t immediately answer he pressed, “Right, Sam?”
The silence between us felt electric as I tried to get on the other sandal. I focused on the way the straps needed to be adjusted, quietly keeping my balance on just one foot and pointedly refused to look up at him when I said, “…I didn’t want to worry you, Jonah.”
My brother clenched his fists and his eyes began to swirl, like the rainbow in an oil slick, “Which ones? What did they do?”
“Nothin’!” I protested, “Just the usual name callin’…”
“It ain’t right,” Jonah insisted, “for them to treat people that way. You want me to walk home with you, or we can get you a cab or some’n-”
“No,” I protested, and when Jonah gave me a disapproving look, the rainbow spilling in his eyes swirling faster, I continued, “No, Jonah. Sometimes I don’t get done till late, and it’d be too much money to get me a cab every night. You gotta be home so you can study for school. I’ll be okay, promise. If it gets too bad I’ll start carrying some of that sleeping powder I made and use it on them.”
It took a moment but Jonah’s eyes returned to their normal glassy blue as he got his temper back under control. I knew I had won when his shoulders drooped and he looked away with a sigh, “Okay… but if it gets worse, you gotta promise to tell me Sam. I mean it.” Jonah held up his crooked pinkie finger to me and wouldn’t stop staring me down until I pinkie promised him.
“Now, sit your ass down so I can get your hair ready.” Jonah patted the cushion of the beat up couch to emphasize where he wanted me to sit before going and grabbing the leave in conditioner and coconut oil. When Jonah got back I was obediently sitting on the couch and had worked the remaining water from my shower evenly through my hair. Jonah worked the leave in conditioner into my hair and hummed some new song I hadn’t heard before as he did. I sat obediently still as Jonah worked on my hair from his standing position, falling into a peaceful trance until the only things that existed was the sound of Jonah singing to me, the sun shining on me from the window, and the gentle pull and tug on my hair. Jonah’s tenor was soothing as he switched between songs, his hands always twisting with the flow of the music, and a few times he would sing in my ear lyrics he thought fit me until I laughed and waved him off to go back to braiding my hair.
“Stop it, Jonah-” My complaining was cut off by laughter as he continued to serenade me until he straightened my head and got back to braiding my hair. By the time he was done about an hour later I could feel the braides but not see them.
“Here, what do you think?” Jonah put the mirror in front of me until I could see the way he had artfully braided along the sides of my scalp and left the ends in a curly fauxhawk. I could see Jonah’s reflection smiling at me as I slowly turned my head from side to side, examining the braids with a bright smile of my own.
“You’ve been plannin’ this, haven’t you?” I teased him, giggling as his reflection gave me an affronted gasp.
“Me? Hatch an evil plan to make my sister look amazing?” He held his affronted face for a moment longer before we both fell into laughter. It took a little bit for us to calm down, and Jonah wrapped his arms around my shoulders from behind the couch, pressing our cheeks together and looking at my face through the reflection in the mirror. “I gotta finish getting ready to go. Do you wanna walk together halfway?”
I looked around him and over at the clock on the stove and sighed, “No, I’ll be late if I wait on you. Good luck today, ok? I’ll see you tonight.” I turned around and gave him a quick hug in return then slipped out of his arms before I snuck out the window onto the fire escape and made my way down the outer stairs to the side alley between our apartment and the next. Jonah kept a constant illusion that hid our door from all of the other people in the apartment using his powers, so normally we just came and went through the window to keep up the illusion that no one lived in our corner apartment. It was easier that way, no one asked us questions, no one could find our door unless if we wanted them to, and so long as Jonah and I kept very quiet no one even remembered we lived there except for the times when we had to lug our clothes to the laundromat down the street or needed help from the apartment handiman Brendan.
I worked at the Lucky Corner Store and Market over where West Asia bled into the tracks separating it from the Slums. The Slums were over in the west side of Crossroads City across the river. Most of the apartments were old tenements in disrepair, though there were a few larger apartment buildings towering above the smaller tenements. Jonah and I lived in one of the older apartment buildings up on the top floor in a corner apartment that had been abandoned years ago after the previous tenants had been found making meth. Thankfully between Jonah and I we were able to research how to clean up after meth labs, and make the apartment livable again. I’d even managed to get rid of the mold in the foundation for the apartment manager. Between our work on our apartment and my work on the mold in the building the apartment manager cut us a really great deal on the rent with no questions asked why “kids our ages” were choosing to live on our own instead of with our mom, so long as we paid our rent on time every month.
The walk from the Slums to West Asia wasn’t very far, but I always made sure to take a different route every time to discourage pickpockets and to confuse any bangers that worked for my mom from trying to follow me. I was following my normal winding pattern through the back streets when I passed by an alley crowded full of people. The energy in the air was practically palpable as the opposing groups stared each other down. The group on the far side was full of older men in leather and biker gear but there was something… off about them. The man I assumed to be the leader stood in front with his leather vest open on his hairy chest and the hand that stoked the vest had nails so long and sharp they couldn't have been anything but claws. He was staring down at the group of younger people on my side of the alley, all with their backs to me and holding an odd assortment of weapons at the ready. Some of them carried sticks of wood that I could feel itching with power, others had what looked like cherry bombs covered in glowing runes, one of them even had a hockey stick covered in similar runes that illuminated the alleyway in an ominous yellow light.
"Grünewald I thought I made it clear that the Rogues weren't allowed on Iron Teeth property," the head of the Iron Teeth addressed someone in the front of the group of Rogues who was short enough I couldn't see them over the heads of their taller gang members.
"Urs I told you, we weren't there! The whole coven was down at the Tracks last night, we had a LAN party against Stonewall-" and indignant voice cracked in protest before the younger boy was picked up by Urs and held up high enough that I could see Grünewald from the shoulders up above even the tallest of the Rogues. Electricity crackled along the boy's dark brown hair and down his toasted marshmallow skin until Urs let go with a roar that made my bones feel like jello.
My arms wrapped around myself in a reflexive hug, attempting to shield myself from the feeling of that roar and the shock at seeing these two very strange gangs. What had Grünewald called them? Covens? Didn't witches make covens? Who were these people? What was going on? What had I walked into the middle of?
To be continued in Crossroads City book one: Coven Wars
