The Thirteenth Daughter

By E O'Meagher

With the thirteenth it will begin...

Three centuries ago a Seer spoke of the birth of a witch, her magic an omen of change. It was believed the vision would never come to pass. Soon age-old secrets will reveal how wrong they were. For the thirteenth daughte

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erin O
• Release date: Oct 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988360506

Book preview

1

☽⭘☾

Becky’s, a popular diner off Hobsons Pier, was barely a ten-minute walk from my place. Inside, the spice of cinnamon and pumpkin coated the warm air. Flavors of the season. We took our usual booth after a nod from Darlene. They’d only been open half an hour, so there were only a few other people there. Heavily bearded dockers, delivery drivers, and one woman in scrubs having her coffee refilled.

Fake cobwebs with plastic spiders stretched across our window. Jack-o’-lanterns on the counter were both real and fake, and one server had cat ears and drawn-on whiskers. It may have been early, but costumes were out. First thing tomorrow—more likely tonight—the cobwebs and pumpkins would be gone. Replaced by paper turkeys and Be Thankful signs.

Ian pulled sugar packets from the container and arranged them on the table. I picked up one of the spiders and twisted a spindly leg, fresh red manicure bright against the black plastic. I preferred Becky’s this way. No screaming kids, our booth always available, and fewer people to worry about noticing me.

The others ate their meals, drank their coffee, and read the paper. A morning like every other. For them.

Darlene set a coffee in front of Ian and a hot mug of water for me. Wondering when you two would show.

Some of us didn’t want to get up, Ian teased, pulling open a mini half & half cup and dumping it into his coffee.

Usual? she asked, one hand on her hip. Add a drink?

You’re serving this early? I asked, digging out a tea bag from my purse.

She chuckled. It’s never too early for a birthday mimosa.

Two please, Ian said. But you should card her. He jerked his chin at me while stirring in his sugar.

I’ll be back with those drinks, she said, giving his arm a playful smack on her way by. Darlene had been here since my fifteenth birthday, the year we started the tradition. She knew how old I was.

Ian took a sip of coffee. So, he started. What’s on today’s to-do?

I dunked the mesh tea bag with my finger. Just this.

Em.

Peeling open a honey, I scraped it into my cup and took my time stirring it, six times, clockwise. When I glanced up, I caught him watching me over the steam with his big brown eyes. Sighing, I pulled out the folded piece of paper from my jacket pocket and slid it over to him. I’d stashed it there almost a week ago. Ignoring his smug smile, I turned to watch a few drops of the early morning drizzle slide down the window.

Alright, he said, once he’d finished reading. Can check off breakfast with yours truly. You have class—still say you skip.

Can’t, I said, turning back to him. Have a test Thursday.

With your notes, I could pass that and I’m not even in the class.

It’s on the list, I said with a shrug.

He shook his head but continued. Tattoo. You thinking somewhere local? Broken Crow? Dark Harbor?

I shook my head. Not that kind of tattoo, I reminded him.

He took another drink of coffee. Right. I’ll do some research while you’re in class.

You have class too.

It’s your birthday, he said. One of us has to skip.

I rolled my eyes and took my tea bag out.

Dinner with the Chad and Wes, he said. Still cool if I bring Jada?

I nodded. Course. Keep Wes’s ‘family talk’ to a minimum.

And we round out with strutting the Old Port. I like it. He refolded the paper and handed it back to me. He frowned as I took a sip of tea. Did you put your contacts in?

I froze. Yeah. Why?

Doesn’t look like it, he said, lowering his voice and glancing at the two gruff-looking workers at the counter.

I blinked a few times. Is it obvious?

He opened his mouth to answer, but we were interrupted by Darlene returning with our mimosas. I pretended to be watching something out the window and gave her a thanks after she’d turned to Ian. If she noticed anything, she kept it to herself. It was early, and lack of sleep could explain anything odd.

Just act normal, Ian suggested with a shrug.

Helpful, I muttered. I dug my phone out of my pocket and flipped the camera around on myself. There was a light red tint to my irises. Hopefully it was subtle enough that no one would notice without looking too hard.

I put my phone away when Darlene came back with our meals. My eggs Benedict was delicious as usual. After we’d finished, she brought out a donut with a candle in it. She and the other staff awkwardly sang Happy Birthday to me while the other diners pretended it wasn’t uncomfortable for us all.

Darlene gave me a quick hug on our way out the door as more customers showed up. I zipped my jacket up against the heavier drizzle outside. The morning had a chill of mid-fall and a damp mist hung around us as we walked back to the house. Ian kicked up wet leaves from the sidewalk, humming Happy Birthday to himself.

We crossed Commercial Street and headed up Park. There was less traffic on this route since it was one-way only. In the summers or on a sunny fall day there would have been a lot more pedestrian traffic around.

Our row of townhouses was perfectly situated for walking to most places in Portland. There were restaurants, shopping, and bars all within fifteen minutes of my place.

The front door was unlocked when we got back and Chad was up, making his own breakfast. He gave me a warm, one-armed hug and a cheery happy birthday wish.

He frowned at me. Did you put your contacts in?

I nodded.

Hmm, Wes won’t be happy, Chad said, turning back to his breakfast.

It’s not that obvious, Ian said, helping himself to coffee.

Chad made a clicking noise with his tongue. He did that whenever he agreed with something but didn’t want to vocalize it.

You want anything special for dinner tonight? Chad asked, changing the subject instead.

I shrugged and pulled out my phone to scroll through the multiple birthday wishes from people I rarely spoke to anymore. Still doing stroganoff, right?

He nodded. Mama’s recipe.

Ian and I exchanged an eye roll when Chad turned to the pantry. Chad’s mother, fondly known as Mama Bell didn’t have a stroganoff recipe. Chad started a food blog a couple of years ago and learned he got more clicks when the title included words like traditional, family, or old. Include all three, he got the most traffic.

The front door opened. Morning all, Wes called.

Morning, the three of us answered.

He walked into the kitchen, set a bag of donuts in front of me, kissed the top of my head, and moved to give Chad a peck on the cheek. How are we all doing this fine morning?

I pulled one of the donuts out and took a bite. I turned twenty-one, had one drink, and am showered, I offered.

I didn’t break anything when I fell down the stairs, Ian countered.

Ah, Chad said. But I didn’t kill Ian when he woke me up a little too early this morning.

Wes nodded. And I successfully brought a new set of twins into the world.

The kitchen was quiet for a moment.

Ian sniffed. I think The Chad wins, he said.

Agreed, I said.

Wes shook his head while Chad took a small bow. I do so enjoy winning. He gave Wes an affectionate nudge.

Wesley—Wes—and Chad were my uncles, for lack of a better term. Wes had been mom’s best friend for over twenty years, so he was family in every way. And since mom had no siblings and my father’s side of the family didn’t know I existed, Wes had taken me in after the accident. He and Chad had been married for almost three years by then and, despite my less-than-stellar attitude, they were both welcoming.

It took a year or so before I’d accepted my new life. By then I’d learned the intimidating figure Wes had married was nothing but a teddy bear. Chad was a boulder of a man. Six-foot-three and a linebacker in his glory days, he’d kept most of the physique that made people think he hadn’t stopped playing. Once he started the blog, he’d gone jiggly, as he put it. He’d tease me, saying the gray invading his dark hair was the stress of raising a teenager smarter than him.

Wes was almost the opposite. Five inches shorter than his husband, runner’s build, but not the one to be messed with. He was nice, but very protective. He wasn’t someone you’d want to make angry. He was the one we told everyone I was blood-related to. We’d even gotten hazel contacts to match his natural eyes to help sell it. Thanks to him going silver before I moved in, no one could question my black hair not matching his auburn.

I nibbled on the donut and sipped the fresh mug of tea Chad had made me, watching my uncles like nothing had changed today. Nothing obvious had changed. But it was only eight-thirty. Today was going to test every safeguard mom put in place, every precaution Wes took, everything I did to blend in over the last twenty-one years. The contacts weren’t the only things starting to fail, and the shift was palpable.

All jokes and birthday wishes aside, it was like we’d all been holding our breath for days leading up to my birthday, none of us knowing when we’d be able to breathe easy again. I’d been excitedly dreading this day for a while now. Change was here.

Ian hopped off his seat and drained his mug. Wanna ride?

Please. I made to scoot off my own seat, but Wes cleared his throat pointedly. I’ll meet you in the car, I said.

Okie dokie. Ian plopped his hat on. Wesley. The Chad. Nodding to each of them in turn, he made for the front door. Chad excused himself, and Wes waited until he heard the front door close.

How do you feel?

One year older?

Emaleth.

I hated it when he used my full name; it never meant the conversation we were about to have would be a fun one. I don’t feel any different, I assured him. I pointed to my eyes. But …

He nodded. I was worried that would happen.

I swallowed. Dulls them, though, I said quickly, hoping that would be enough to keep my birthday plans on track.

He nodded. That’s the best we can do at this point, he said.

I should get going.

Hold on. He set his mug down and pulled a key from around his neck. Unlocking the drawer in the island where he kept the more dangerous concoctions, he lifted out a black velvet box from inside.

I actually held my breath.

He set it on the counter between us and tapped it with one finger. This, he started, and I let my breath out. Should have been given to you by your mother.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the tears back.

And while I will never be close to a replacement, I hope you know that I will always be here for you.

I know, Wes.

He tapped it twice more and slid it over. Remember what you’ve learned.

I rested my hand on the top. Something stirred under my touch and made my gut clench. After taking a deep breath, I snapped the lid open. Inside was a deep red gem. The ruby was about the size of a silver dollar, rough cut, silver setting, and pulsing faintly against its bed of black fabric.

Carefully, I lifted it out. It was heavier than I expected. The red glow grew stronger. This was the inheritance that mattered. The last physical heirloom of my family. My mom, my grandmother, and all the daughters before me had worn it.

How do you feel?

I looked up quickly, forgetting he’d been there. Good, I said, surprised at the small hitch in my voice.

A shadow of a frown crossed his face as I put the necklace on. I tucked it under my sweater and a gentle warmth pulsed against my skin.

Are you sure you want to go to class? he asked.

I rolled my eyes. Channeling Ian today? I asked. We have a test coming up, I can’t skip.

He heaved a sigh but didn’t argue.

Ian honked.

I should go. I grabbed my bag and coat off the rack. My hand was on the door when Wes caught up and held it closed.

Rules, he demanded.

Wes, I practically whined. C’mon.

He shook his head.

What good is it going to do now?

It’ll keep me from locking you in this house.

I’m over eighteen, I said. You can’t lock me in.

You just watch me. He stepped in front of the door and held up his index finger. Rules.

Ian honked again.

I wanted to stomp my foot but knew I couldn’t push him. Wes had made good on the threat to lock me in the house once already. Fine, I said. One, no magic in front of mortals.

He nodded and held up a second finger.

Two, no magic in front of mortals.

Present company excluded, Chad offered, walking out of the office. He gave me a wink in response to the glare Wes shot him.

Wes held up a third finger.

I took a deep breath. Three, if black SUVs show up and those inside identify themselves as Collective, I am to disregard rules one and two and soundly kick their asses.

Chad let out an affirmative whoop from the kitchen.

Wes smiled and pulled me into a hug. That’s my little witch. Now, go have a good birthday.

2

☽⭘☾

Ian dropped me off seven minutes before my bio-psych class started. My usual spot was open; unspoken seat assignments were solidly in place this late into the semester.

Unlike when we were younger, there were no costumes in class. Chatter was low and the caffeine fixes high. We still had a midterm to get through, and that dampened any holiday mood.

I pulled out my notebook, blue pen to match, and dated today’s section of notes. Going to a mortal university was part of the life Wes strove to hide me in. Not that I minded. I liked school, always had.

Not the rules. For eight years, he’d made me recite them before I left the house on days my magic was more likely to flare up. Full moons, Solstices and Equinoxes, and on this birthday. Mom had similar rules but had been a lot less nitpicky about it. Of course, after I broke rules one and two within a month of moving in, I could hardly blame Wes for it.

Slipped may have been a better way to put it. I did use magic in front of mortals, but I didn’t regret it. One of those mortals had been Ian. I’d only been with Wes for three months when three kids had cornered Ian after school. My focus hadn’t been on stopping bullies, but since I was only thirteen and had major anger issues after the accident, they got the brunt of it.

Wes had been pissed when he found out. The kids couldn’t exactly explain what had happened. Some invisible force had kept them from hitting Ian or me. The school administration wasn’t sure what to do with me either, until Wes modified the memories and the story changed to me hitting them. I’d gotten suspended for a week and grounded for four. But I’d made a lifelong friend in Ian.

And so, he and Chad were the only exceptions Wes made. Chad, for obvious reasons, and Ian because Chad convinced Wes isolation wasn’t healthy and I needed a friend my own age. That didn’t stop Wes from using the threat of taking Ian’s memories away every now and then. A threat getting thinner with each passing year.

Wes hadn’t been like mom when it came to covering his craft. His precautions and paranoia came when I did. He’d always had an easier time blending in with mortals. As a Hedge Witch, he had always been a mostly solitary practitioner. Combining the herbs and potions of his craft with his medical degree put a foot in each world. That always made him less of a target. Not safe, just safer.

When I showed up—an overemotional teenage witch directing grief into hot anger—things got complicated. There was a massive adjustment that needed to happen that came with a lot of growing pains for the both of us.

Mom and I had always led the same style of practicing as he did. Coven-less. But for different reasons. We’d been in hiding, tense distrust colored every interaction with mortals and witches alike.

Wes didn’t have that distrust for either community. But his practice, his magic, was easier to mask, while I had what was known as an expressed power. It manifested in more obvious ways. Ways that could get us found out.

If mortals saw—and remembered—what I could do, they could expose us to everyone my family had been hiding from for generations.

And so that’s what we did. We hid. I lived as normal a life as I could. Went to mortal schools, made mortal friends, and covered the deep red of my natural irises with fake hazel. Normal.

If reciting the rules got me out of the house on a day like today, I’d do it no matter how much it annoyed me. I was slightly surprised I hadn’t found myself spelled into the house before breakfast. In the mortal world, twenty-one meant I could stop using my fake ID. For witches, twenty-one meant my power was fully matured and would both be stronger and easier to tap into. It also meant any protections put on me as a child would break and other witches could find me. Our blending in had been to ensure that when the day came, no one would be looking.

The last few students trickled in while Professor Standre straightened her papers at the front. She was one to start class right on time, so the class quieted before she even began. By the time the slides were up, there was no more rustling of notebook pages or side conversations.

She wasn’t one to introduce new concepts in the lecture before a test. Instead, she reviewed everything we’d gone over since our last one. Ian hadn’t been that far off when he said I could have probably afforded to skip today. But sometimes I didn’t know I needed clarification until I got it.

I did add a few footnotes to my already color-coded notes by the time we wrapped. I hadn’t finished packing up when the—not surprising—message came in: Raven was on campus and wanted to copy my notes. She hadn’t been in class, not that I expected her to be.

I had an hour to kill before my next class and had already made her a copy. Beans and Brews was crowded enough that I had to squeeze through a long waiting line to find a table by the window. I stripped my jacket off and draped it over the back of the chair. I’d gotten there first and wasted a few minutes scrolling through, and deleting most, of the birthday coupon emails I’d received.

I’d never been the looking over my shoulder type, but something about today was different. There’d been a slight creep in the back of my neck that started during class that had been hard to ignore. My phone wasn’t holding my attention the way it usually did.

The truth was other witches could blend in as easily as Wes or myself. And, today of all days, I was acutely aware of that. For all I knew, the barista could be a Telk. The couple in the far corner could be Seers or Hex Witches. I could be surrounded and never know until it was too late.

That wasn’t the only thing that made today a little harder. Ever since I could remember, mom and I had been planning my twenty-first. We’d had our own list. But that was never going to happen. Not since the accident.

Eight years ago, today. It was three A.M. and we were on our way to Lucille’s for waffles and milkshakes. It was my thirteenth birthday. I was in my pajamas but wide awake.

Mom had Yellowcard blasting to drown out the mechanical clunking she chose to ignore. She sang along to every song, yelling at top volume as she drove down the practically empty streets.

I joined her in the chorus, the only part I knew. The plastic birthday-girl tiara refused to stay in place as I bobbed my head to the music.

Then, all I knew was the broken plastic of that tiara slicing through my skin. A burning where my seatbelt had been. The rough, cold pavement and flashing blue and white lights cutting through the night, blocking the sky.

When I woke up in the hospital, Wes was there. He was the one who told me mom hadn’t made it. A drunk driver ran a light and that was that. My entire world was gone.

I’d found a new world here; Wes, Chad and Ian helped with that. Years of therapy helped me work through most of the guilt of enjoying my life again. I always had felt like I was betraying mom somehow. It wasn’t gone, but it didn’t control my thoughts anymore.

In a mix of too much rose perfume and latent cigarette smoke, Raven took the seat across from me and let out a huff. Okay, so, like, I know school is important or whatever, but was it not totally impossible to get out of bed today? She took a sip of coffee, her burgundy coffin-shaped nails popping against the white of the paper cup.

Nearly, I agreed, passing her the notes.

You are a lifesaver, really, she said. I wanted to come, but my hair would just not cooperate. Her copper hair was pulled into a perfectly messy bun. She’d given me a tutorial on how she managed one, but I never got the technique down. We’d tried winged eyeliner the same night I’d stayed over, but one too many vodka cranberries may or may not have put an early end to that.

Raven had started as one of my class-only friends after we were in the same developmental psych lecture last semester. She’d copy my notes in exchange for tea. I’d help her study, and she’d let me borrow her clothes if I needed them for a date or a night out in the Old Port. We’d only started hanging out outside of class after ending up in another lecture together this semester. Bio-psych this time.

She gave me the credit for her passing last semester, and once I’d gotten to know her better, I had to slightly agree. She was wicked smart but not what one could mistake for hyper-focused.

So, she said, smiling at me and adjusting in her seat like she was ready to dance. Any big plans for the day?

I shrugged. Old Port with Ian and Jada, I said. Nothing special.

She frowned. That’s the opposite of what you should be doing.

There’s plenty to do, I assured her. It’s Samh—Halloween.

She took another drink and nodded slowly. Or, she said, you could come to Onyx. They’re having this big Halloween bash and it’s going to be amazing. She grabbed her bag and pulled it onto her lap. I got stuck with extra tickets and they’re yours. She dug around, pulling out crumpled receipts and random cosmetics. A b-day thing. Where—Ah, here. Three tickets to the best party in Portland! She set a stack of cards on the table.

Three? I asked. That’s lucky.

She shoved the extra stuff back inside. You can thank my dope of a boyfriend for that, she said, dropping her bag back on the floor and letting out a sigh. He went and got tickets for himself and his cousins without telling me, so I try to be all nice and instead he acts like it’s easy to offload extra tickets. She took another drink. Okay, it is, but that’s not the point. I don’t want just anyone to have them. You know?

Her boyfriend—of four weeks—was one of the many things I got an earful about before our most recent lectures. I didn’t know much about him, other than she was constantly annoyed by something he did, was doing, or might do. Him ditching her for his cousins had been the most recent and longest-running annoyance.

She tapped the tickets with a long nail. If you take them, then fun will be had. Lots of fun. She slid them closer to me. Seriously, VIP section. Totally beats walking around in the rain all night.

Onyx is a little out of the way.

Did you miss the VIP thing? she asked. "Table to ourselves, and one of Matt’s cousins is springing for bottle service. How often do you get that for your twenty-first?"

Never. Are you sure? I asked. I don’t want to impose.

She rolled her eyes. I wouldn’t invite you if I didn’t want you there, she said. You know you want to.

I tapped my finger against my mug. Ian and I had been planning this night for a while, but she had a point. The forecast called for rain, wind, and possibly snow if it got cold enough. While I enjoyed a fun night out every once in a while, walking around in the cold wasn’t what I thought of as fun. I would have liked to ask Ian first, but he was a lot more of a go with the flow type than I was, so he likely wouldn’t have an issue with the change in plans.

Onyx was probably the fanciest club in Portland. Or so I’d heard—I’d never been, as of all the places to catch my fake ID they were the most likely. If I was going to try something new, it might as well be on my birthday.

Alright, sure, I took the tickets from her.

Yay! Costumes are required. This is going to be so much fun. Her attention drawn to something on her phone, I shook my head and glanced down at the tickets.

My throat went dry and my heart sped up. It was nothing. Some gimmick the mortals used to draw a crowd for Halloween. It meant nothing. It had to mean nothing. With an unsteady hand, I thumbed through the cards.