I pushed to my feet and shoved at his shoulder, that angry vibration pushing through my veins for the second time that day. How dare he speak to me like that! I had done everything and anything possible to ensure I wasn’t weak. Being weak had stopped being an option for me when Elyas and Elfyn entered my pathetic life.
“I am anything but fucking weak!” I growled.
He grinned, raising his brow as he looked around the room before pointedly saying, “I know.”
Every book that had been piled in my room now floated in the air, hanging there in suspense. I gawked at them and looked at Ziel.
“I had to get you angry.”
I jumped as every book smashed back down to the floor, gravity now pulling them down.
“You have the power; you just need to feel it.” Standing up, he rolled his shoulders and said, “Don’t tame those demons, Mate. You never know when you’ll need to unleash them.”
Then he lit up another smoke and left me alone in my room full of scattered book.
Twenty-Four
‘A Day Or Two To Turn Blue-Dies Vel Ut Convertat Bue’
Amaya
Ravioli flew into the room not long after Ziel left, sat on his perch and ate the tongue I had forgotten I had left for him.
I sat by the fire in hopes of it warming the coldness that had seeped into my bones when Ziel had left. Rí was still at the bar, Jerry was off doing whatever the ghost did, and Bri was probably tucked nice and warm in her bed. My boys…I couldn’t think of them; it hurt too much, it took the air from my lungs and left me gasping.
My magic had indeed showed itself when my emotions became almost uncontrollable. So it was there. But I needed to use them with ease. I neededa clear head to get to my boys; I needed to be calm when I ripped Lyal limb from limb.
Looking to the floor I saw the books that had crashed back down. I picked up the one closest to me and put it on the table. Frowning I turned it around and read the title, ‘A Day Or Two To Turn Blue.’
I flipped through the pages, the old Latin unreadable, but towards the end of the book, just before I gave up, was a few pages in English.
When a pure-blooded Dark Witch dies, her magic intensifies and becomes transferable. This is usually done to help the next generation become stronger. A ritual is done to complete the process.
First a cleanse. The body is washed of any dirt or grime.
Then Wisteria petals are sewn into their wrists-a bracelet of the tree of life. A sign of respect to the First Lady.
Finally, they are buried in the Mountains cemetery with Willow moss roots and Wisteria petals scattered across the fresh dirt.
Once this is done, the power that was once hers, would transfer to the next generation.
However, this power can be stolen in the cruellest of ways. Unless willingly, the only way to transfer a Dark Witches power is when they are deceased. During the early stages of life upon Wisteria, certain supernatural believed that mating with the deceased witch would pass the power onto them.
After multiple attempts, the Dark Witches had to hold off a witch’s burial and incorporated a two day to turn blue rule. If the Witch had started to decompose, they would not be touched.
So the Dark Witches would surround the deceased, protecting her body from any male that may have tried to steal her power.
Cremation is not an option for a Dark Witch. In burning their body, they burn their power and along with it, the power of future generations.
I was nauseous. Sick to my stomach. The White Witches, and I knew it was aimed at them, would purposely mate with a witch’s deceased form to gain access to her power. And they said that the Dark Witches were the greedy power-hungry ones.
“That’s a very heavy read My Lady.”
I slammed the book and threw it to the table. I hated when people disrespected books but that one gave me cold chills and a horrid sick feeling deep inside my gut.
“It’s sick. Fucking sick.”
“Indeed, most history is most distasteful.”
