Page 37 of My Dark Obsession

‘Forgotten Magic-Oblitus Es Magicae’

Amaya

“That kiss was steamy. Like drench your panties steamy.” Bri grinned as I choked on my sip of hot coffee. The bitterness and scorching temperature helped to ease the urge to run after Rí and dive on him. My dragon was a constant temptation.

“So this book?” I asked, trying to move on from the dragon and his heated eyes.

“Oh! Yes!” she reached behind her counter and handed me a thin paperback book. Its creased pages and frayed edges from years of use were yellowed. Turning to the first page, I frowned as I read the title: ‘The beginning’

“The beginning of what?”

She sat in the chair opposite me and leaned in close before checking that no one was listening.

‘Of Wisteria. Lady Samara was the first Dark Witch to find Wisteria, her, a Dragon, a Wolf, and a Fae. They mated! They were Circle Mates.”

Holy shit…fae? The Fae was real? Tall sexy long hair men with wings? They were a big staple in the books I used to sneakily read in the human realm.

“Why have you given me this?”

“Because!” she whispered leaning in closer “it holds secrets only a Dark Witch would understand!”

I didn’t want to reveal any more secrets. I already had enough on my plate, figuring out how to use my powers, getting back to my twins, transferring some to them. My birth parents, Lyal, why the war began. It was a lot. My noisy mind was already too crowded, too busy.

“Hmm, thanks. Do you have a Familiar?” I asked, the books I had read said that Familiars had stopped finding their way to witches around a century ago, easing away from the new realms and the new ways of life. That only the most powerful were lucky enough to have one.

She tilted her head and frowned before her eyes widened, “Oh! Ravioli? I should have guessed…yes, he could be your Familiar. You said he just kept appearing right? I think he must have sensed your need for him.”

I told her of my dream, how the ghost witch said he wasn’t.

“What else would he be? No, I do think he’s yours. What did Jerry say?”

“He said—"

I cut off when the strong sour smell of Ziel floated into the shop, completely overtaking the bitterness of the coffee. He stalked towards me, his green eyes glassy yet focused on me with such an intensity my heart began to beat faster the closer he got.

Nodding to Bri he muttered “Halfling.”

Her eyes widened as she stood, wiping imaginary crumbs from the table as she stuttered “-oh hello. Well. Um…the book is here with me Amaya.” Giving me a bright smile that faulted as she passed Ziel, she disappeared behind two swinging doors.

Raising a brow at Ziel in question, he shrugged and gestured to the door. I walked out slowly, still trying to catch a better glimpse of the mocking black mist.

We walked in silence down the street, neither of us saying a word. I wanted to ask where we were going, why I had to go with him. Yet the childish part of me refused to be the first to give in and talk.

“You should read that book.” He rasped, making me want to grin at him giving in first. I kept my face neutral.

“Why?”

“The halfling was right, it reveals secrets only the Dark Witches will want to know.”

I swatted the thick thorny vine that had crept from his jacket and lifted my back revealing my Circle Mark. Did he have full control of those vines?

“What would I want to know?”

“Ah you know, just why they thought so highly of the humans, why the White Witches wanted to get to them.”

I stopped in my tracks and gaped at him, “How do you know that?” Was he in my head? Had he seen my dreams? I wouldn’t put it past the nosy fucker .

He raised his brow at me, and tutted. “The dead told me. Chatty lot.” Of course, my ancestors seemed to like to tell him everything.

“So it was the White Witches. But why, what did they want? Why did my ancestors want to protect the humans? ” I pondered aloud, unable to keep the dismay from my voice when I spoke of the humans.

He hummed and shoved his hands in his pockets as we followed a trail that led to a street containing small cottage-like homes.

Each one was filled with flowers and life, all except one right at the end.

Instead of bright sunflowers, this one had a garden of dead shrivelled up roses.

Instead of neatly painted gates and window trims, the wood looked as though it was rotting.

The low windows were each covered by thick drapes obscuring our view and making it look all the more abandoned.

“Why are we here?”

He ignored me, opened the gate and slowly stalked towards the door.

I followed him, jolting when my body vibrated from the feet up, my noisy filled mind almost screamed as a spicy stale smell burnt the hairs in my nose.

I wrinkled my face in disgust. Ziel reached into his pocket and withdrew .

..a hand. A real hacked off at the wrist hand.

Its bluish hue looked as though it sweated.

I decided then that I was most definitely mentally unwell, because who watched on as someone withdrew a hand from their pocket and didn’t scream and question them? I simply waited expectantly as if it was all very normal to me.

“What is that smell?” I asked pinching my nose together .

“Black magic” he muttered as he flattened out the hand onto the glass pane of the door and waited as it began to glow. It vibrated before a click sounded, letting us know the door had been unlocked.

“Why the hand?” I muttered as we stepped over the pile of dead bugs littered by the open door.

“It’s a magic hand,” he rasped as he shoved it back into his pocket. Somehow it left no smell, no bulge or showed any sign of being unable to fit. I could use a jacket with magic pockets. The amount of books I could keep with me at all times would be incredible.

“It’s my damn magic hand,” a gnarly voice snapped from somewhere behind a huge pile of dusty books. “Now give it back boy.” He snapped the B with a pop of his mouth as he wobbled around the books.

A tiny bald Asian man stood leaning against a stick glaring at Ziel. I sensed the magic there within him and somehow, I knew it wasn’t his. It belonged to someone else. This man was utterly human. My heart began to pound as I looked to Ziel, now realising why we were here.

Ziel walked past the man leaving me stood on his bug-riddled door mat as the man squinted at me.

Turning around to follow Ziel, he yelled, “Who’s the girl!” before peeking back at me and snapping, “And shut the damn door!”

I hastily slammed the door shut, wafting up that vile spicy air and quickly followed them.

His living room was full of books, towers and towers of them, leaning like the leaning tower of Pisa.

Each thick book had bookmarks or noted paper sticking out.

The elderly in Wisteria sure liked their books, and to be honest I couldn’t blame them.

The old man plopped himself into a green looking armchair opposite the small fire that created too much warmth in the already stuffy room. Ziel rummaged around on his knees in a basket full of tea-stained looking paper.

“You’re human?” I found myself saying as he adjusted himself in the chair, sighing contently as he lifted his slipper-clad feet onto the little stall in front of him.

“Obviously. But you can already sense that can’t you girl.” A steaming teacup floated past my ear, the spoon stirring whatever was inside.

“I need to know how; I have two humans that need to be able to stay here.”

He never answered; instead he lifted his stick back up and poked at Ziel kneeling on the floor.

“It’s not that one Idiot.” Without a word Ziel moved on to another basket, this one fuller, bulging with screwed up papers.

“Stop staring at me with those purple eyes witch-it’s unnerving.” Sipping at the contents of the cup he peaked at me again, squinting and pursing his lips.

No one in this realm gave me answers, always staring with that squint of unease. I was starting to get fed up with it. And the new me was going to start getting stabby if I didn’t start receiving answers.

“Got it.” Smoothing out a crumbled paper Ziel stood and nodded to the man before walking back to the door.

I stayed put, glaring down at the old man and his stupid teacup. I was so irritated, so fed up with blatantly being stared at and yet ignored at the same time. I wasn’t in the human realm; I was in Wisteria. I was somebody here. I had a home, I had people. So why were people still ignoring me?

My anger threatened to boil over as I rubbed my hands along my legs.

“Your anger is not the answer.” He sniped as he blew delicately into the cup.

“Then what is the answer. Hmm? Or are you just going to ignore my questions like everybody else? Are you going to tell me I need to accept things? To harness my power with acceptance?” I stepped closer to the man.

My anger wasn’t just with him; it was with everyone.

It was with every single human who had ignored me, sneered at my appearance or turned a blind eye to my abuse.

It was at Isa for leaving me with that monster, the Council for their laughable try at controlling me, with Cole and his tired fed-up eyes and stick up his ass.

It was with Lyal and the bitch social worker, with myself for thinking I had control over the beatings.

Every single person I was angry at flashed in my mind, like a flickering book of images.

With each flicker of face that passed through my mind, a pulse of vibration zapped through my veins.

Every single candle within the old man’s room burst to life, just as the fire rose higher, blasting the small room with a heat that had sweat dripping down my back and swirling around that damn mark.

“Not my anger huh?” I snapped as I looked around the room.

“Amaya.” Rasped behind me, looking back at Ziel and his raised brows, I huffed .

I shoved passed Ziel and stormed from the cottage.

No one had answers. I had accepted I was a Dark Witch, yet I was told I still needed to accept something? And being told my anger wasn’t going to help, pfft. So far, my power had only revealed itself during my time with Rí or when I was angry.

A firm grip on my arm halted me. Ziels slightly red heavy eyes caught mine. “Come on,” he muttered, leading me out of the dishevelled garden and passed the bright and sunny cottages.

I ripped my arm from his grasp, ignoring the way my mark had itched like mad begging for his attention and gave him my best death stare, meaning every ounce of it and stormed down the street.

Fuck him.

What was the point in taking me somewhere that wasn’t even going to help me? What was the actual point of it?

“Will you fucking stop having a tantrum?” he sighed with a smoke hanging from his lips as he easily caught up to me, his long legs strolling whilst I walked with fever.

Stupid little legs.

“That paper I took-it’s the spell the Dark Witch used to transfer some of her magic to Yim.

They were Circle Mates, but he was utterly human.

She wanted to stay in Wisteria with her sisters, and he wanted to be with her.

So she gave him some of her magic. Brought him through, kept him hidden but alive.

He’s the only one its ever worked for. Took a lot of tries a lot of magic.

But it worked. This was nineteen years ago, one year before the war, when the witches blew themselves to smoke.

” I narrowed my eyes at him in annoyance. How long had he known all of this.

“He aged quickly after; eighteen years were more like forty to him. Yes, he has Dark magic within him, its miniscule. The minute its real owner died the magic dies with it.”

So if I gave the twins some of my magic, I just needed to stay alive?

To live a long life for them. I could do that.

I could live for them. Everything I do is for them.

Would it be so bad, to spend my life with them running the long dark halls of the castle, Jerry and his kindness, Rí and his possessive passion?

Looking up at Ziel, I wondered if it would even be so bad to spend it with him.

Would I become…happy? Would I be satisfied with life. Would it matter?

“How long have you known all this?”

Tired. I was tired of the games.Tired of all the secrets.

He shrugged, his eyes now clearing from his drug induced smoke.

I nodded, because I think I understood. Why would he tell me all the answers?

He didn’t know me. I didn’t know him. We were essentially strangers, strangers who had their souls torn apart and scattered before being shared.

We may share a deep soul connection, a mark claiming each other as theirs, but who said we had a choice in this matter? Who gave him the choice?

He frowned down at me, searching my face for some emotion that would make him understand my thoughts. I kept my face neutral, clear of emotions and feelings. It was always better this way. When had I even begun to change? To give away bits of myself to people I barely knew ?

The flapping of wings had me turning away from the Death Warrior. I waited for Ravioli to land on my shoulder. The sharp sting of his talons digging in were almost welcoming.

I was so tired.

Tired of not being with my boys. I was tired of being silent, tired of holding in my anger, tired of never allowing my true cold rage to seep through.

My mind was constantly filled with the noise of life, the constant chatter and ebb and flow of being alive, it was exhausting.

The twins saved me, but deep down, very very deep down, I missed that feeling I had when those pills stared back at me.

I missed the knowledge that I could be done with it all.

The obsession had taken over of course, and with that the rage had built and built and I swore, I swore on everything I was, that one day my rage would be witnessed by the man who poisoned me with it in the first place.