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Chapter 4

At the tender age of fourteen, beaten down by life and disillusioned by the injustice of the world, I’d found myself placed within yet another foster home. I’d expected nothing less than what I’d already become acquainted with in the other ones, as such, my things had remained unpacked for the first several weeks I’d been at the Guchereaus’ home. I’d expected each day to see the old, battered orphanage’s station wagon pulling up in the drive, prepared to take me back to the orphanage once again.

Over the years, my clothing and I had been carted from the orphanage, to a new foster home, then back to the orphanage before once again, being placed in yet another new foster home. I’d been left to wonder if I belonged anywhere. In truth... I guess I hadn’t, for with each placement, I’d quickly become unwelcome and feared as I’d often awoken, screaming in the early hours of the morning, fighting invisible people that only I could see.

Doctors had subjected me to a battery of tests, trying to figure out what was wrong with me, but unable to find anything physically wrong that would explain my night terrors, they settled on it being mental.

It was only within the walls of the Guchereau home, though, that I’d finally learned there was nothing wrong with me, that a little understanding went a long way toward stopping the nightmares. In the beginning, I’d awaken from the horrible visions that held my mind shackled tightly within their grasp, and find myself wrapped within the fatherly arms of Eagan, or the embraces of either Leighton or Merrick; more often than not though, I’d awaken clutched tightly against Declan’s chest.

With their administrations, I began lowering the walls I’d built around me. It took months though, as I was reluctant to allow anyone in, not trusting the authenticity of anything lasting. Fearing if I relented and gave into the need within me, I’d only be hurt again. As well, there were things about me that no one knew, and if the Guchereaus’ had learned of my secret, I was positive they would have one-hundred percent sent me packing.

I’d been born with the ability to wield magic, and though I had tried recessing my innate ability, the outcome was less than favorable as my magic refused to be silenced, and continuously created tricky situations for me when it would randomly come to life without my bidding. I knew it was from lack of use, and after I’d nearly burned the house down by catching the curtains on fire, when flames had decided to shoot out of my fingers under their own accord, I’d known it was time I figured out how I could practice in secret.

I’d hidden the cause of the fire from the others by hastily melting a candle onto the floor, then after opening the window, I’d claimed the wind had blown the candle over, and the curtains were blazing up the wall before I could stop the flames. It was shortly after that I began sneaking out of the house to practice. It was during one such outing, I’d stumbled onto the fairy-ring-clearing.

This set a pattern for the months that followed, and as time passed and my magic grew stronger, I had, in fact, discovered I’d acquired new abilities. I could move objects with a swipe of my hand, or make things disappear when they irritated me—I tried to keep that one under check though.

As I’d grown comfortable in my new life, seasons passed: seasons that counted the years and I’d settled into what I had become to think of as home.

Leighton, Merrick, and I had become true siblings, for we’d fussed and fought as only brothers and a sister could, but Declan and I, we never reached that comfortable area.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I let out a heavy breath. The recollection of that time in my life was bittersweet, for along with the good had come the bad. One particular period stood out within my memory. The end of any type of relationship between Declan and myself.

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, 2008

“The soul known to us as Eagan Guchereau, we place within the hands of God…” I heard the priest’s words, words meant to soothe, to comfort in times of grief, and though I followed the rite, I felt no comfort, no soothing. I only felt loss, a great abandonment. I felt a sense of irony, as well, for a storm had moved through the night before, cleansing the air and spreading fresh life upon the ground as not twelve hours later, we placed death within it.

The funeral was simple, as Eagan would have wanted. A solemn ceremony, a simple coffin, simple flowers, simple music and a few simple words at his passing, and then...simply over.

Realizing I was the last to say my goodbye, I stepped forward, and running my hand over the smooth surface of the coffin, I felt the warmth of the sun-kissed wood beneath my palm. Grief was stamped deep within my heart, and my eyes glistened with the moisture of my unshed tears.

With a breath of finalization, I loosened the grip I had around the rose in my hand and gently laid it on top of the coffin. “I’ll see you again one day, Daddy. Thank you…” Emotion overtaking me, I was forced to pause, to regather myself. Even so, when my words emerged, they still carried a quaver that gave away my pain. “...for loving me.”

I wiped at a tear as it slid down my cheek, then turning, I was startled to see Leighton and Merrick standing behind me. Both their faces wore the same etching of emotion as mine, loss.

With a gentle action, Leighton reached out, his own lashes shimmering with moisture in the sunlight as pulling me against him he cupped the back of my head as I rested the side of it against his chest. The steady beat of his heart gave me strength.

For several moments longer, he continued to hold me, not pushing me to hurry and be done with the hug, but just holding me, letting me pull what strength I needed from him. Eventually his hold loosened and his chest vibrated as he questioned, “Ready?”

At my nod, he dropped his arms, and I stepped out of his hold. “Yes, thank you,” I told him, then as we turned, my eyes made contact with Leighton’s. After giving him a watery smile, I turned my eyes toward Declan.

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