The Coven House had been in the Darjeeling family for more than 20 generations, starting off as a tiny shack and developing into the monstrosity that it was now. Maye, the only child of her parents, was childless at 26, and so shared the house instead with the Coven Diviner, Morgan Mirkhill, who, at age 112, was the oldest member of the Coven. Morgan was blind, and often not entirely sober, though what substances she used to ‘enhance’ herself was beyond anyone. The Coven was not gathered on this particular evening, instead Maye was sitting quietly in front of the television watching the latest episode of True Blood, only somewhat disgusted by the fact that she was watching it alone. Morgan was, oddly, not in the house at all, but rather had called Aeron Smithson, the second eldest Coven member to come and pick her up several hours ago. Perhaps she had had a sense of what was to come, perhaps not, it was never easy to tell with Morgan. Much like reading tea-leaves, she left much to the interpretation of others and sought rarely to explain herself.
Maye answered the door only on the second chime of the bell, muttering darkly that she was about to miss yet another cliff-hanger moment of her secret passion.
“Can I help you?” she asked the tall imposing woman on her doorstep.
“Maye Darjeeling, you are overstepping your bounds,” the woman told her, her voice strangely accented.
“Overstepping my – ?”
“Yes...” the woman said boredly, looking past her into the house, “with the Rift and the Coven. Do you know how rare a good Dreamer is?”
“Wha – ”
“Do you know why?”
“Who the hell are you?” Maye demanded sharply, she did not like the feeling of this.
“You may call me Medea.”
Very nice. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDelete