A Witch and her Familiars

Chapter One - A Letter for Laurel Elder

A letter arrived that morning, pushed through the tarnished mail slot along with the bills and advertising flyers, but Daphne knew as soon as she picked up the pile of mail that this was something different. She sorted through the papers until she found it: an envelope of heavy white paper. The wax seal had a small chip of opal pressed into it. She turned the letter over. "Laurel Elder," it read in curling script that glowed silver, and she could tell from this glow and from the tingling in her fingers that this letter contained magic.

"Mama," she called into the apartment. "Letter for you."

"I'm in the study," she replied.

Daphne scooped up all the letters (the bills were important too, she supposed) and walked to her bedroom, better known as the study, mostly because only a tiny corner of the small room was used for her bed. The rest of the space was taken up with stacks, shelves, and piles of instruments and trinkets for practicing witchcraft. Daphne squeezed through two cabinets filled with different types of candles and found her mother on the other side, sitting at her scrying bowl.

"You said there's a letter for me?" Daphne's mother asked, dropping another pebble into her mirrored bowl. Laurel Elder was a beautiful woman, made even more beautiful in the wavy light of the scrying potion, which caught on her sharp chin and cheekbones and made her dark skin luminous. Her black hair was coiled into braids which she piled on her head like a crown. Daphne thought she looked nothing like her, only having inherited the slight roman nose, dark skin tone, and black hair (which she dyed anyway). The rest—chubby cheeks, strong eyebrows, and tendency towards stoutness—came from her father, whoever he was.

Her mother's bracelets jingled together as she dropped another polished stone into the liquid. "It's from the Grand Coven, isn't it?" she said after watching the ripples for a while.

"Did your bowl tell you that?" said Daphne in awe, handing her mother the stack of letters.

"No," she replied, smiling. "Who else would send me a letter?" She held out one slender hand and blinked; an ornamental dagger came zooming off a nearby table. She caught it gracefully by the handle and slit the envelope open. She stared at the letter, which glowed with the same silvery light as the writing on the envelope, with concern and apprehension.

"Mama?" Daphne asked.

Lips pursed, her mother folded the letter shut. "Daphne, honey, do me a favor and get me my old suitcase? It's in the front room closet."

"Yes, Mama," Daphne replied, moving as fast as she could through the clutter and wondering why her mother needed a suitcase. She opened the closet doors, pushed past the coats and scarves, and grabbed the wood-handled case of cracked leather.

She found her mother in her bedroom folding clothes on her quilted bed. "Just set it down on the floor, honey."

She did as she was told and asked, "Why do you need a suitcase?"

"I'm going away," she said, waving her hand so the pile of neatly folded robes landed in the suitcase with a soft thump. Instruments, books, and votive candles from the study next door began to whirl into the room and settle in the bag on top of the clothes.

"Away? Away where?"

"The Grand Coven needs my help."

"What? Why do they need your help?" Daphne blurted. She knew her mother was a powerful witch, but this was the Grand Coven, the council composed of the nine most powerful witches currently alive. Her mother was gifted, yes, but nowhere near the level of the Coven. "They're not—" A terrible fear stole over her. "You're not in trouble, are you?"