Sisters of the Coven (Daughters of the Warlock 1)

“Mis-informed?” I repeated and the disbelief I’d been feeling began to boil, churn and roll into a ball of anger. “Mis-informed?”

I stood up and opened my hands, balls of fire filling my palms. I had no idea where they came from. I wasn’t sure if I had conjured them with my rage. But they came to me with such ease, so naturally, that part of me wanted to see what would happen if I released them into the ether.

The Warlock leapt in the air and a staff appeared in his hand. He held it out in front of him, a wall of white light conjured as a shield. He was fast, I had to give him that.

The fact that he took me as some sort of threat was enough to make me a smile.

He glared at me as he said, “I have powerful wards around this room that you shouldn’t be able to penetrate,” he growled. “How are you conjuring any magic?

”

Wards? No wonder my promise vow was barely working on me.

“How? You wanna know HOW!” I turned and threw my angry fire ball at the window. It blasted through the glass, shattering the pane into a million pieces.

It was so easy. It scared me at how easy it all was. Mother always made it seem so difficult, but it wasn’t. Not when I knew how to properly channel the natural magic inside of me.

I turned the other ball over in my hand, communicating with it, calming down the anger, and hauled it in the same direction with all my might.

Instead of doing more damage, this ball melted against the window, reconnecting the fibres and repairing the pane.

This was all my mother. The control. The anger was my father.

It was the first time I found myself grateful for the way my mother had taught me magic. At the time I hadn’t understood why. I’d thought she was being unnecessary and pushing too hard. However, without that control she taught me, I would destroy myself.

I turned back to the High Warlock and I was pretty sure he could see the glittering rage in my eyes.

But he wasn’t afraid. Instead, he stared at me in awe. His mouth lay open and his hand dropped the cane, his magical shield falling away.

“Who... are you?”

My chest heaved with anger, and I could barely draw breath. But I lifted my chin and stared him straight in the eye.

“I’m your daughter. Who the fuck else could I be?”

Chapter 8.

How I broke my promise to Aunt Alison, I didn’t know. My palm didn’t tingle, nor burn. Death was most certainly not falling down upon me.

Perhaps it was the wards my father had up, that stopped Alison’s magic from working? Maybe it was pure will. I think it might have been how truly powerful I was. How powerful my mother knew I was but did not tell me. I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. All I knew was that I had this power and thanks to my mother, I knew what to do with it.

But what I did know was, my father now knew who I was.

“You’re my... what?” He blinked, as though the thought hadn’t even occurred to him, as though he never considered the possibility that I could be his daughter.

Of all the reactions I expected from my long-lost father, absolute disbelief was not one of them, especially not after what I showed him my power.

I narrowed my gaze at him. “I’m your daughter. Your child. The fruit of your loins. What don’t you understand about the terminology?”

He practically collapsed into the chair behind him, falling backwards and shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? How many times did you have sex with my mother? How could you not expect any consequences?”

My father’s handsome face flushed with blood and he looked down at the floor beneath him. His lips were pressed tightly together, his jaw popped. Anger flashed in his eyes, but instead of saying anything, he continued to stare at his feet.

Yeah, I thought so.

All the anger left me as I looked at him. I thought he would put up more of a fight. I thought I would need to prove myself to him. But I wasn’t. I stared at him, waiting. And as I stared, I realized that I wasn’t angry with him. Not really. I sat down into my chair and blew out a breath. I slid my feet out of the heels I wore and flexed my toes before pointing them. I flicked my wrist and a healing balm was massaged onto the back of my heels instantly soothing them.