Avalon City

Chapter 4

I keep my eyes on him as we pull away from the lot and head east toward the city where Morgan's café awaits. I shake my head, stealing another glance at him in the side mirror as he walks off. Why do I keep seeing him everywhere?

A shiver creeps over me, but I push it away, focusing instead on the colorful buildings and bustling streets outside. Becca cranks up the radio, belting out the lyrics to Skinny Love, a song by someone called Birdie. I recognize it as her favorite and can't help but smile.

My thoughts return to the dream from last night. There's something eerily familiar about it, but the details elude me. There's something about that room. I've seen it before, I'm sure.

The car stops, and I jolt back to reality. We arrived at Morgan's café, but I was lost in thought, unaware we reached our destination until Becca's door thud shakes me from my stupor.

It's moments like these that make me question if my medication is doing its job - my anxiety is through the roof, I feel paranoid, and the dreams are intensifying.

With a sigh, I step out of the car. There's so much I can't explain, so much I'm feeling, but I put it down to my upcoming twenty-first birthday. That's when my magic will manifest, and it's probably why I'm on edge.

But whatever it is, whatever's happening, it terrifies me.

Morgan's café, nestled in the artsy, witch-owned district of the city, is a colonial-style building turned into an open space with a charming wrap-around deck filled with tables, chairs, and blue and white umbrellas.

My parents aren't here yet, so Becca and I decided to check out the craft stalls nearby. They're an eclectic mix of handmade goods, jewelry, lotions, and trinkets.

The dream catcher stall is calling to me, its colorful array of feathers and stones entwined around circles of wood and metal. I leave Becca amongst the jewelry to admire the intricate handiwork but find myself enthralled by a single creation - one with black and gold beads, silver threads, and white feathers that almost sparkle in the sunbeams. The beauty of the piece seems almost alive as it calls out to me.

Suddenly an elderly woman appears at my side. Her right eye is blind and milky-white, yet her left eye glistens like a precious emerald gemstone in the light. She carefully pulls the dreamcatcher down and hands it to me. I reach for my wallet, but she stops me with a gentle hand, shaking her head.

"This will help chase away your darkness," she whispers. Her gaze pierces me as she can see deep into my soul—fear courses through my veins as chills run up my spine at her words.

Before I can muster a thank you, she turns and walks away, leaving me standing there dumbfounded and slightly unnerved.

Suddenly, Becca is beside me, concern creasing her brow. "Everything okay? You look a little pale." I nod, shifting my focus to her. She doesn't question the dream catcher in my hand, instead handing me the car keys to stow it away during our lunch.

After securing the dream catcher in the car, I join Becca on the patio of the café, savoring the warmth of the sunlight on my skin. We sit, waiting for my parents, drinking lattes, and watching people pass by in the vibrant streets.

My parents finally join Becca and me at the table, their tardiness an anomaly. A quick apology and thanks for the lattes we'd ordered in their absence dissipated my concern.

My mother, a petite woman with green eyes and auburn hair, always sports a messy bun, a style she would probably don to a gala ball if allowed. Regardless, her outward appearance doesn't diminish her wonder. We are mirror images in personality.

My father, a towering figure with a tan, has hair so dark it's almost black. His brawny build and occasional scowl would make anyone recoil, yet his exterior belies a softer interior. Even though he stands head and shoulders over my mother and me, their contrasting personalities interlock perfectly like puzzle pieces.

As soon as they settle, my mother, Ellie, takes both of my hands, squeezing them gently, her eyes radiating maternal warmth. It's a small gesture, but it infuses me with love. Becca, feeling the same affection from my mother, gives me a knowing look. We're not related, but with all this love in the air, it sure feels like we're a family.

My mother turns to Becca, "How's university, sweetheart? Any plans for the break?" Her full attention on Becca makes me feel cherished, even as her thumb traces comforting circles on the back of my hand.

Becca's ensuing banter veils her real concern: balancing university work with her numerous boyfriends. Then, she reveals her plan to visit her relatives, a veiled invitation for me to join. I suppress a smirk; Becca knows I find her cousins odd.

“Yes, I'm going home for the first week. Mom wants me to go with her for a few days to see my grandmother and cousins. What about you guys? Have you got anything planned with Avery?"

My father, Jon, looks at my mother uncomfortably before answering. They both share a strange look between each other. One I am familiar with. They have bad news.

My gaze shifts to my parents as Becca finishes speaking. Their silent exchange worries me. I know that look all too well - they're about to drop a bombshell.

My father, Jon, breaks the news, "We were hoping to spend time with you over the break, Avery. But your mother has been summoned by the Elders at the main coven house. We're leaving tomorrow."

I'm taken aback. My mother hasn't seen the Elders in years. Their summoning her now must mean something serious is afoot. My parents' discomfort amplifies my unease. What are they hiding?

I thank the stars that they aren't trying to drag me along. The Elders make me nervous with their enigmatic dialogues and off-putting energy. Despite their outward civility, I feel like an unwelcome anomaly in their midst.

"It's okay, Dad. I have assignments piling up anyway," I say, trying to allay their concerns. I don't mind being alone.

We spend the rest of the meal discussing university and life in general. I refrain from mentioning my nightmares, fearing they'll be perceived as a side effect of my medication.

I've been on these pills since I was ten when my parents diagnosed me with depression. They inhibit my magic, and I abhor their side effects. If I confessed about the nightmares, my parents might worry the meds aren't working, and I dread the idea of a dosage increase.

The sense of something concealed has always haunted me. Beyond the surface, my parents' love and concern seem to mask a secret. I've known from childhood that I'm different, and it's not just the witch nature I grew up with. My fascination with dark magic and death seem bizarre, almost like an unnatural attraction to the elements of darkness.

Now that I live independently, I intend to face whatever life throws at me on my own.