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“Who taught you to shield your mind?”

“No. One!” My voice was clipped and my eyes narrowed on the woman before me. Who was this crazy lady and what was with the twenty questions? The tingles began in my finger tips, tickling them at first.

“Where are you from?” the tingling grew, moving up my arm slowly as she asked another question.

“Scarborough.” I managed to answer, as the tingles grew further, distracting me and feeling more like pins and needles.

“Who is your Coven?” This question fried what remained of my patiences and before I could comprehend what was happening I let out an angry breath, my hands rose from my sides, coated in dancing blue tendrils and then a snapping blue ball flew across the room. Leaving a black scorch mark in the cream wall beside the old lady’s head. The woman stared at my arms and finally her blasé facade faded; leaving disbelief and a smidgen of fear in its wake. “Who are you?” she asked, staring at my arms as much as I was.

“I’m…I’m…” I couldn’t answer, because in all honesty, in this moment I didn’t know who I was.

“Child, who is your Coven?” the woman asked again.

“I’ve never had a Coven, whatever that is. I was adopted as a baby, then returned to social services when I was thirteen.”

She drew in a shocked breath and her face softened slightly, “What happened to your Coven?”

I didn’t think her question was aimed at myself, so I gave no response, instead trying to figure out what the heck was happening to me. The blue ribbons still danced around my fingers, no longer buzzing but lazily arcing as I stretched my fingers apart. “Dina, what’s happening to me?” I whispered, not trusting anyone else in the room but her.

“You need to calm down, your magic,” she nodded at my fingertips, “is reacting to your emotions.”

“Right, because that makes so much sense,” I deadpanned at her, “tie magic to emotions. Because emotions are such a stable thing.” I was trying to lighten the mood and put myself at ease but when Grandma lady tutted, my temper flared and the electric danced wildly.

“Unlike human children, we teach ours to regulate their emotions from a young age. It stops outbursts such as this from happening.” She tittered, raising her head like she was superior to me in some way.

“Ok, so let’s say I believe that this is actually happening and not just some very strange dream, who the heck are you?” I asked the woman.

“Is that not real enough for you to believe?” the woman asked instead of giving me a straight answer, as she gestured at my still power infused hands.

“She’s the Crone of the York Coven of Witches,” Dina explained quickly, coming to my side, “and she is very respected in our world.”

Focusing on Dina and her alone, I let each word sink in. “Ok, so let’s say I believe in all of this…nonsense. You all believe that I’m a witch,”

“There is no doubt you are a witch, child,” the Crone said, waving her hands at my own, “and a powerful one at that. Now tell me what you are doing unannounced in my City?”

“Well Grandma, that one’s easy,” I snarked at her, but got no further as a sudden wind flung me backwards, slamming my back into the wall beside the bathroom door. My head snapped back and forth like a rag doll.

“You will show me the respect I deserve. I may be a Grandma, as you put it, but I do not appreciate being scoffed at, young lady.”

“And I don't appreciate being called a child.” I retaliated, letting her know just how little respect I had for her. To me respect was earned, not given freely or demanded, and this woman had given me no reason to respect her since she’d opened her mouth.

“If you are to be taken under my Coven’s protection, you will respect your elders. You are a child in the eyes of our Coven. If what you say is true and you’ve never been taught, then your powers are undisciplined and therefore like a child.”

“I’m twenty-one years old and have been on my own since I turned thirteen, when no one wanted a troubled teen. So do not lecture me on being a child. I do not belong to your Coven, I never will, and I am not a bloody witch.” I denied again. My mind was having trouble believing any of this was actually real and kept expecting someone to jump out shouting ‘got ya,’ as they played the greatest joke on me. No one did and three pairs of eyes looked at me in concern, disbelief and anger.

“Denying the truth will not make it go away.” The Crone muttered, shaking her head at me before turning to face Tilly, “She is too old to learn our ways. There is a Coven out there, somewhere, missing a child. Find them, they will have no choice but to take charge of her insolence and learning.”

“Will you stop discussing my future as though I’m not even here,” I snapped at them both as Tilly opened her mouth to answer, “I am no Coven’s ‘lost child’” I told them both, almost snorting at the thought of someone missing me, “up until I was thirteen, I had a nice family, not a Coven. That was until my night terrors became too much and forced them to return me.” I said, feeling the stab of their abandonment all over again and the magic in my fingertips finally faded.

“What night terrors?” The Crone asked, raising an eyebrow at the sadness I couldn’t hide from my voice.

“She’s dreamt of the rogue,” Dina explained for me when I didn’t answer.

“And when did your dreams begin?” She asked, glaring at me.

“Shortly after I turned twelve.” I answered,

“And what did you dream of?”