Salem Falls

“Dammit Lucie,” Siren muttered under her breath, shaking her head and walking away from the window. The sun was beginning to set in the distance, turning the sky orange and pink. Siren was pacing back and forth in front of her window, trying to get things straight in her mind.

Lucie ran away. Lucie, who had been Siren’s only friend for as long as she could remembered, had picked up her things and vanished. Siren had no idea why, or what had caused her to pick up her things. But it stung. Stung that she didn’t tell Siren, stung that there was no warning, no note.

For a long time, Siren thought that they were close enough to tell each other those kinds of things. When Siren liked to disappear, traveling off into the world without having to deal with people, she always warned the other girl in Sixth Circle. Never where she was going, but at least she said she was going.

Sighing, she moved to the couch and sat down, flipping through the pages of an old spell book. It was her fathers, filled with dark magic and things that no one should ever know. Siren was well knowledgeable in dark arts, and she had picked up the book, trying to learn about what had happened to Niall.

Countless tomes on old magic, dark magic, the history of mages and magic and everything under the fucking sun was in the library in the Chevaux household. Their ancient family had a habit of studying spells and the world of powerful things, and Siren had picked up that habit.

It wasn’t paying off.

No matter how many books she cracked open, no matter how many times she spent sitting at her desk with the light on, reading the Latin, Greek and even sometimes Hieroglyphics, she could not find anything that sounded familiar to Niall’s sudden case of electric magic.

Ever since Evelyn had saved Niall, it seemed that he had something rubbed off on him. Siren knew it had nothing to do with Evelyn’s healing our poultices, but rather the father that he had been torched by the prince of hell. Most mages don’t walk away from that, especially Lunar Circle mages.

But Niall had. Well, he was dragged away by Siren, but he was still alive. And breathing, though with some sort of strange, dark static electricity problem. Every time Siren touched him, it was like she had been running around a carpet room, dragging her socks along the floor.

The phone on the table buzzed and she picked it up, glancing. Niall had sent her a text message. Somehow, they had resulted to have a childish relationship in which they text one another. It was weird, using normal technology. It made Siren feel so… human.

Are you sure you’ll be okay?

She rolled his eyes. He was referring to the Sixth Circle gathering tonight, a very normal ritual being held for the New Moon. It was going to be pitch black, which was the best time for Sixth Circles to hold their Sabbaths and ceremonies. I’ll be fine, idiot. I’ve been doing it since I was two.

It was true. Siren had been going and participating since she could walk. They all had. But she did feel slightly off, without Lucie. She normally stood in between Lucie and Harry, with Zayn next to Harry. Their small chain would be broken, and it was bound to throw off the balance of power in the circle. It was uncomfortable to think about.

When the sun had set, Siren had already done her routine pre-rituals. She had washed her hands in rose water, placed her grandmothers moonstone amulet around her neck, and donned her velvet, black cloak, pulling the hood so that the cowl hid her pale face.

Outside, the world was dark. The sun had gone away and you could not see the moon, her face covered in darkness in by the phase of her life that she was in. But none the less, the moonstone at Siren’s neck pulsed when stepping outside, knowing that the entity was there, but unseen.

Alone, she moved into the forest. It was not an overly far walk from her home, but she would have rather drove; you had to walk, to gatherings. Showing up in a car was seen as nothing short of disrespectful.

Already in the clearing, people were gathered. Many dark cloaks masked the face of the people of Sixth Circle. Power thrummed through the air like a thick mist that could not be seen, making the air taste bitter. Siren was used to it.

Scanning, she approached two hooded figures. After years of standing next to them, she could still identify Harry and Zayn, even when they were dressed like everyone else around them, hidden. It was not a hard task, when you did it a lot.

“Zayn, Harry.” It was not a warm greeting. It was a simple one, that did not let show how upset she was not to see Lucie’s delicate figure underneath the velvet robe. She secretly prayed that maybe Lucie would just show up. “How are you?”

“Do you really care?” Harry asked in the same tone that she had used. It was suddenly blatantly obvious that Siren was not the only one who was bothered by Lucie’s absence.

“No,” she answered. “Not really.”

“Then why ask?”

“Because this is fun, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, Siren I-"

“Would you two stop arguing?” Zayn silenced them both. Even if he was not the current leader of their coven, his tone was always enough to make them heed their bickering. “There is no need for it.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be starting, anyways?” Siren asked, annoyed that Zayn had scolded her. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it was definitely hitting some nerves now. Maybe it was because he was her leader now. Or maybe it was because Lucie was gone, and he did not seem that upset about it. “Or are we going to stand around like a bunch of daffodils a-blowing in the breeze?”

She couldn’t see his face, but she imagined it twitched in annoyed. “Yes.”

On cue, Zayn moved to the front and begin something that Siren was already practiced in. The many dark cloaks stretched out in a semi-circle, their arch facing Zayn, who stood behind a burning fire of the shade green. It was haunting, as the green color filled the crevices and lit the darkness.

Faces were not seen, but they could be imagined. Siren imagined them to be dark, cruel and twisted beneath their cowls, faces of menaces and demons. She knew they weren’t, but that’s what it felt like when the Latin tumbled from their lips in unison, and the fire crackled hungrily like a beast waiting to be fed.

Dark magic was thick in the air. For some reason, the utterance of darker spells always made the air thicker, as if it was squeezing the oxygen out of the place to kill any subject that dared to stand in It’s presence.

“Any member of Sixth Circle who has words to discuss, step forth and cast them forth into the flame and the coven.” Zayn was very practiced in his words. His voice was strong, confident and everything that a leader should be. Siren admired that, as they waited to see if anyone had anything to discuss.

Naveed Malik stepped forward then. Siren cut her eyes sideways as he stepped forward, removing his hood to show his face. It was calm and keen, the green firelight dancing on it. The light twisted his features slightly, and made him look cruel and hard. Which, he was.

Zayn’s uncle was nothing short of powerful. He always ruled at his brother’s side, and he remained strong through Yaser’s death, if not stoic. So when he stepped forward, a certain hush fell over everyone. No one had been talking, but the silence thickened.

“Naveed Malik,” Zayn announced, voice still unwavering. Oh Zayn, he was good at this. “You make share your thoughts with the coven.”

“Members of Sixth Circle,” He said, turning and stretching his arms forth. “Friends, family. You have all felt it, you have all noticed the darkness that is growing among our town. Where does it come from? Who is the culprit? We know not. But we have done nothing to stop this darkness that is growing, and my wariness grows.”

Siren tilted her head. The way in which he was speaking had a grandeur to it that she did not trust. Naveed had never spoken in such flourishes before, like he was trying to put on a show.

“We are weaker than we used to be,” he continued, then amended himself, “not because of my nephew, who has done well leading us, but because we have long forgotten what it meant to be a member of Sixth Circle. We have long abandoned the practices of our ancestors for lighter ones, ones that do not offer the same amount of protection.”

Silence hung in the air. “What is it,” Zayn articulated very carefully, “That you are suggesting, Uncle? Practices were abandoned because they were causing more harm to our people than they were worth, so take care with how you speak of the old.”

Naveed’s eyes flicked to his brother’s son. It was clear he had not expected Zayn to be so strong. It made Siren’s lip twitch in a smile. “I am only suggesting, nephew-“ he said the word as if to remind him who was older “-that we must look into ways to protect ourselves, ways that you have no knowledge on. The well being of my people keeps me up at night, and I remember the ways, the ways of old. I’d just like them to be considered.”

Bowing, he excused himself to fall back into line. The entire performance made Siren want to exclaim obnoxious questions such as, “Are you fucking kidding me?” But she remained silent. It was not her place to talk, or to accuse Naveed of being off his fucking rocker.

It was obvious to her that Naveed wanted something from Sixth Circle. She didn’t know what it was, but his little show with it’s sweetened and peppered words were not for nothing. Naveed Malik, it seemed, really wanted something. But figuring out what was going to be the problem.