vulnerable than I was honestly comfortable with.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, crossing the busy street.
Hesitating, I paused with my hand on the wrought iron gate that stood closed against the street. The trickle of whatever power religion itself had hummed against my skin. Tightening my grip, I shoved the gate open and the hum disappeared. Stepping onto the hallowed ground, I waited for the gargoyles to start up their screaming, but there was nothing but the warm autumn breeze that brushed my face.
“Are you all right, Amber?” Nic asked, pausing next to me.
Nodding, I smiled. “I’m fine, it’s just considering what I am, part of me still expects to get struck by lightning when I set foot inside the gates of a church.”
“Nah, that only happens when you step inside and show yourself for the heretic you are to the face of God.”
Faltering I stared at Nic, my mouth dropping open. “That doesn’t happen,” I said.
“No, of course it doesn’t—jeez, Amber, sometimes you’ll believe anything,” he said with a wide grin, before he ducked out of my reach and jogged towards the steps in front of the church.
“Funny, ha-ha,” I called after him. My heart rate had picked up and I hated that I was so gullible. Following him at a much slower pace, I climbed the steps and waited as he pulled open the heavy wooden doors.
The inside of the church was gloomy, but there was a type of peace that couldn’t be found anywhere else on earth. It was one of the things that had amazed me about the Church; how could something that so often passed judgement on its congregation possess a place that was so utterly calming?
The smell of incense and candle wax assailed my senses and I moved into the aisle, my gaze drawn down the centre to where the large, ornate altar stood.
It was beautiful, everything about it setting my mind at ease. I let my gaze wander across the wide space filled with pews until I caught sight of something to one side near the front of the room. Several people stood, their backs to me as I watched them.
Power prickled down the back of my neck and I fought the urge to shudder.
“Can I help you, my child—are you lost?” A warm gentle voice spoke directly behind my shoulder and I jumped as though something had slithered across my skin.
Spinning around, I came face-to-face with who I could only assume was the priest running the church. His eyes were filled with kindness, the lines in his face telling me he had lived a long life that wasn’t free of hardship. He looked like the type you’d find down at the soup kitchen, feeding the sick and starving.
The moment my eyes met his, I cringed. I could feel him; his purity rang through my head and the urge to cower before him rushed in my veins. I’d never met anyone like him before. I’d known devout priests and I’d avoided them at all costs, but their power had never made me feel like this. Either I was truly evil, or he was so good he was as close to angelic as any human was going to get.
Magic flared in my veins and I watched the expression in his eyes change. Any second now, he would recognise me for what I was, and then the real fun would start.
The demon mark on my shoulder tingled the darkness washing over my own power and quenching. A flicker of confusion filled the priest’s eyes for a moment and then passed as though it had never been there. His smile returned and he held his hand out to me in greeting.
“My name is Father Bailey. Come in and make yourself comfortable.”
It was my turn to feel confused and from the look Nic shot me, it must have shown in my face. This wasn’t what usually happened when I was recognised. Witches get a bad rap; everyone assumes we worship the Devil when it really couldn’t be further from the truth. Naturally, there are those who worship the dark but it’s not really the Devil, more the dark side of nature.
The world exists as a duality—light and dark—and witches practice using that duality
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, crossing the busy street.
Hesitating, I paused with my hand on the wrought iron gate that stood closed against the street. The trickle of whatever power religion itself had hummed against my skin. Tightening my grip, I shoved the gate open and the hum disappeared. Stepping onto the hallowed ground, I waited for the gargoyles to start up their screaming, but there was nothing but the warm autumn breeze that brushed my face.
“Are you all right, Amber?” Nic asked, pausing next to me.
Nodding, I smiled. “I’m fine, it’s just considering what I am, part of me still expects to get struck by lightning when I set foot inside the gates of a church.”
“Nah, that only happens when you step inside and show yourself for the heretic you are to the face of God.”
Faltering I stared at Nic, my mouth dropping open. “That doesn’t happen,” I said.
“No, of course it doesn’t—jeez, Amber, sometimes you’ll believe anything,” he said with a wide grin, before he ducked out of my reach and jogged towards the steps in front of the church.
“Funny, ha-ha,” I called after him. My heart rate had picked up and I hated that I was so gullible. Following him at a much slower pace, I climbed the steps and waited as he pulled open the heavy wooden doors.
The inside of the church was gloomy, but there was a type of peace that couldn’t be found anywhere else on earth. It was one of the things that had amazed me about the Church; how could something that so often passed judgement on its congregation possess a place that was so utterly calming?
The smell of incense and candle wax assailed my senses and I moved into the aisle, my gaze drawn down the centre to where the large, ornate altar stood.
It was beautiful, everything about it setting my mind at ease. I let my gaze wander across the wide space filled with pews until I caught sight of something to one side near the front of the room. Several people stood, their backs to me as I watched them.
Power prickled down the back of my neck and I fought the urge to shudder.
“Can I help you, my child—are you lost?” A warm gentle voice spoke directly behind my shoulder and I jumped as though something had slithered across my skin.
Spinning around, I came face-to-face with who I could only assume was the priest running the church. His eyes were filled with kindness, the lines in his face telling me he had lived a long life that wasn’t free of hardship. He looked like the type you’d find down at the soup kitchen, feeding the sick and starving.
The moment my eyes met his, I cringed. I could feel him; his purity rang through my head and the urge to cower before him rushed in my veins. I’d never met anyone like him before. I’d known devout priests and I’d avoided them at all costs, but their power had never made me feel like this. Either I was truly evil, or he was so good he was as close to angelic as any human was going to get.
Magic flared in my veins and I watched the expression in his eyes change. Any second now, he would recognise me for what I was, and then the real fun would start.
The demon mark on my shoulder tingled the darkness washing over my own power and quenching. A flicker of confusion filled the priest’s eyes for a moment and then passed as though it had never been there. His smile returned and he held his hand out to me in greeting.
“My name is Father Bailey. Come in and make yourself comfortable.”
It was my turn to feel confused and from the look Nic shot me, it must have shown in my face. This wasn’t what usually happened when I was recognised. Witches get a bad rap; everyone assumes we worship the Devil when it really couldn’t be further from the truth. Naturally, there are those who worship the dark but it’s not really the Devil, more the dark side of nature.
The world exists as a duality—light and dark—and witches practice using that duality
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