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really taken to spells but I did. Under David’s tutelage I learned the rudiments of practising spells and the necessary ingredients for success.
    I could weave simple spells now, like the wards that surrounded my house, protecting us from anyone who would do us harm. Anything more complicated, however, was beyond my capabilities.
    When it came to magic, I was of the blood variety. Magic swam freely through my veins and was always an intrinsic part of my existence, just like my heart or brain. Although I once viewed my magic as a curse, now I could rein it properly, I couldn’t imagine being without it. It would be like losing one of my senses: debilitating but not deadly.
    Glancing at the mantelpiece where I had a small clutter of photos, my eyes rested on the white envelope I stored there for safekeeping. It was a wedding invitation for David and Seren’s wedding in late summer and I was really looking forward to it. Étoile, as Seren’s sister, was going to be maid of honour.
    “Magic sucks,” I muttered.
    “What about the spell book?” Kitty started tentatively, shrinking a little when three pairs of eyes turned on her. “The one you showed me.”
    The spell book was on loan to me but it was a weird, temperamental thing. I’d almost finished reading it when it disappeared. A few days ago, I took a call from the family it belonged to saying it had reappeared at their house; they thanked me for its return.
    “Not an option,” I said, knowing Kitty would know what that meant. She muttered something rude about the book under her breath, possibly because it had always eluded her grasp.
    “Never mind. Some cards came while you were out.” Kitty went to pick up a small stack from the little console table we had by the door. It was constantly cluttered with keys, mail and coins.
    I took the stack with a “thanks” and started to slice them open while my mind provided a bunch of scenarios for what the Brotherhood were planning. I felt uneasy having them in my town, my hometown, but it wasn’t like I could march over there and demand they leave. They were all about the waiting game. It felt strange to be taking a lesson from their notebook; I would have to be patient too.
    The first envelope I opened held a card from Seren and David. It was covered in pretty little flowers that floated off the card and hung in the air before dropping back to the card again like confetti. It was unexpected and very, very sweet.
    There was a card from my old friend Marc Bartholomew, too, which was a surprise. I hadn’t expected him to remember, much less, send a card. The last time we’d seen each other had been a horrible experience, though neither of our faults. I imagined neither one of us wanted to remember that. On a positive note, it was also the same time Marc got his magic back, after a lifetime of being illicitly bound.
    A piece of folded paper tucked inside the card slipped out and I unfolded it. It was a note from Marc, brief, like he wasn’t one for letter writing. It just said he was looking forward to seeing me at the summit and getting a chance to talk. He said he missed me and hoped we were all well. He didn’t mention his magic at all, nor what he was doing now. I flipped over the envelope. The postmark was smudged but, all the same, I wondered if he had gone home. All in all, it was a short and sweet note that gave me a smile. My smile, however, faltered slightly when my eyes flicked back to “summit.” I frowned. What was that about?
    Both cards went on the mantelpiece amongst my framed photographs, Marc’s note too, along with a silly musical card from Kitty and Étoile. A shiny blue one with ‘Happy Birthday’ in big letters from Evan and dozens of kisses inside made Kitty coo and me blush.
    Turning the third envelope over in my hand, I frowned. It was more business-like than the others, in a soft manila shade with my name in neat type. Maybe it was a bill. What a pain. I opened it anyway and withdrew the