Warlock's Angel - Marly Mathews Page 0,1
Alexander had insisted upon taking Angelica and Anya away from Earth when Anya had turned sixteen and Dallas had turned eighteen, Angelica had remained in touch, insisting they always return to Gerrans for holidays and for Dallas’s birthday.
If only Angelica and Alexander hadn’t been lost in the unchartered sector of space known as the Badlands. Every day she mourned their loss and could only imagine how bereft Anya felt. She knew Anya was confident that her parents would keep each other safe and that she would one day see them again—instead, Dallas’s family had been scattered to the four winds and she was once again the one left alone.
Reaching for her old copy of Hourglass Magazine, of which Anya had been named Witch of the Year, she fixed her gaze on Anya’s smiling face. “I wish you were here, cousin,” she murmured, melancholy washing over her.
Anya was the brightest witch of their age, making her so much more important than Dallas. Not only that, but she had all that her heart could ever desire and Dallas was truly happy for her. After all, the Rosses had paid dearly for it. Dallas couldn’t have survived the way Aunt Angelica had. Hailing from the powerful Ross Family, Angelica had tragically lost her mother when Ebony Ross had been burned at the stake back on Vanguard. She’d been sold into slavery and had been able to flee her captors to hide on Alexander Redgrave’s ship. He’d given her safe harbor and had freed her of the collar that had kept her powers bound. Somehow Angelica had found the light at the end of that dark tunnel and, despite of the hardships she’d endured, she’d been a gentle and loving woman. So Dallas could never begrudge Anya the happiness she now enjoyed. Sometimes, on nights like these, she wished she could have just a sliver of the kind of happiness Anya had been blessed with. Despite having the full support of her local coven, and to an extent the non-magical townspeople, it didn’t take away the extreme loneliness Dallas dealt with every single waking hour.
Her brooding was rudely interrupted by the noise of her kettle whistling. She’d forget she’d even put it on to boil. She was becoming so scattered the last few days she sometimes wondered if she was losing her mind.
“Damn it,” she muttered and jumped off her cushioned window seat, then dashed to the kitchen and removed the kettle from the range. Shutting off the heat, she leaned against her counter and sighed. Finally, after a few seconds, she moved to her cupboard and reached for a clean mug. She gripped the mug, stared at the claddagh design, and once again read the saying—Friendship, Love, Loyalty. If only she could enjoy all those things. Sure, she had the loyalty and fellowship of her local coven. They were known as the Cliodna Coven, and she appreciated the help they gave her whenever she went to their weekly meetings. Not to mention the fact that they constantly looked out for her and warned her whenever someone strange came to town inquiring about her. And yes, those witches and warlocks were her friends, but she rarely saw them outside those meetings, having little contact aside from the few messages they sent her during the week.
She was an oddity, she knew that. Even for a witch, she was seen as being different. Some of her magically talented friends were scared of the talent that made her such an outcast. Those who didn’t want her powers feared them and those who wanted them, she feared.
Either way, her life was a shitty mess, one that nobody could possibly envy. Hell, she didn’t even want her own life and wondered day after day what she’d done in another lifetime to deserve such a blight upon her existence this time around.
Her house computer started chiming and her home’s artificial intelligence’s voice streamed through the country-style kitchen. “You have an urgent holographic message from Master Clifton Parr in Halifax.” Clifton, a fellow coven member, was a few years older than she was. His power as a warlock was minimal, although he had a decidedly oversized ego. He had always believed there was more between them than was there actually was, and his reading more into their casual friendship at times irked her.
“Connect us immediately, Tilly.” She poured the hot water over her teabag and went to the fridge to get the milk. In mere seconds, Clifton’s holographic body materialized before