Prologue
People said a lot of things about Rayna. Some people said she was a pretty little girl. Some said that she had a temper. Most said that she was as stubborn as a mule (which was true, as a matter of fact, but she'd never admit it).
And it was all three of these things that led to the choice that changed her life forever. That one irresponsible, stupid decision that changed everything. Oh, how she loathed herself for it! She wished that she could take it back; take away the hurt of what she had done, what she had said. But she couldn't, and now she had to live with her decision. Her stupid, stupid decision.
She hated herself for what she had done. But mostly she hated her parents for how they had reacted.
She first seriously thought of running away when she was twelve. Where would she go, though? She was too young, and too inexperienced, and she didn't know much about the world. So she stayed, and sometimes she cried at night and fervently wished herself dead, and sometimes there were good days when she forgot that she had ever lived anywhere but with her aunt. So life went on, for better or for worse. Life went on, and she went with it. She grew and she changed, and she hated herself a little less every day.
But even when she was fifteen, much smarter and wiser – although not very wise, and she knew it – than she had been five years ago, she still hated her parents for what they had done. Still hated her brother for not protesting their parents' treatment of her.
But soon that hate, too, faded a bit. Ebbed away like the sea outside her aunt's cottage. The tide came in, then flowed back out. There were bad days and good days and she learned to cope with it. Even learned to like her cousins, though she doubted that they'd ever be particularly close to one another.
On the bad days, bitterness would take over her mind, and when she couldn't contain it any longer it would burst out of her like water from a dam. She would yell. Rant. Stomp, and rage, and cry her eyes out. And then she'd lie down on her little wooden bed with the blue quilt and the old stuffed animals and have a nice, long think.
You will be good, she'd tell herself. Be good for Aunty. Be polite, do not shout, and definitely do not cry! She hated that voice in her head. It sounded uncannily like her mother, and made her get angry all over again. They had sent her away. They had not loved her. She had not been good enough.
It was this last thought that killed her inside - the thought that she hadn't been good enough, that she was a disappointment, a failure. And she would prove them wrong if it was the last thing she did. She would prove them all wrong.
Her name was Rayna, and she was ten years old when her parents sent her to live with her aunt. And there she stayed for the next several years, until she just couldn't take it any more. She had tried so hard to be what they wanted. Now she was giving up, and it felt almost good. She was defying them. She was going against that annoying little voice in her head that sounded so much like her mother.
They had sent her away. They had not loved her. She had not been good enough.
Chapter One
Sarah was a nice sort of girl. A bit nosy, maybe – especially in the case of her cousin – but with good enough intentions and a few interesting qualities. Her brother, Arthur, was quiet and contemplative, and when he did speak it was usually about something disconcerting or seemingly random. He was just that sort of boy.
They lived with their mother in a cottage on a cliff overlooking the sea. Their lives were very ordinary and routine for about eight years and three months. And then their cousin came – just to visit, their mother told them carefully – and everything was different.
They had only met their cousin once before, when they were babies, and for obvious reasons they could not remember the meeting. But one day Sarah and Arthur woke up and went out to the breakfast table (as they always did) and their mother sat them down and told them about Cousin Rayna.
The conversation went as such.
"Your cousin is coming to visit," Mother said. The eggs frying in the pan hissed, and Mother quickly turned and took the pan off of the stove.
"Cousin Tommy?" Arthur inquired as he slid onto a chair.
"No, Cousin Rayna." The children noted that their mother didn't like to look at them when she talked about Cousin Rayna, which was odd since she always looked them straight in the eyes (to check if they were lying, she said).
Brother and sister exchanged a glance. "Oh! You mean Cousin Lana," Sarah said triumphantly. She didn't know of anyone with the name of Rayna.
Their mother distributed the eggs evenly onto two plates, setting the plates in front of the children, then sitting down herself. Sarah followed suit, taking the place next to her brother and across from her mother. "No, Rayna is your Aunt Anna's daughter. You met her once," Mother said carefully. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, looking curious. "Eat your eggs," Mother insisted.
How very odd, thought Sarah. Her mother was never one to cut a conversation short.
Rayna wasn't mentioned again until the next day, at dinnertime. "Rayna will be arriving tomorrow morning, at nine o'clock," said Mother as she ladled soup into the childrens' bowls. "She'll be staying in the guest room."
"How long is she staying?" asked Sarah. She didn't remember anything about Cousin Rayna at all, even though Mother said that they had met once before. She and Arthur had just been babies then, though, according to her mother.
"Awhile," said Mother, taking a sip of her water and effectively ending the conversation once again by saying, "Pass the water pitcher, please, Arthur."
And Sarah knew that Rayna must be different. She must be like Grandpa Charlie, who could perform the most marvelous magic tricks. Mother didn't like to talk about Grandpa Charlie. Nor did she like to talk about Cousin Rayna, it seemed.
So when eight thirty the next morning rolled around, Sarah was very excited, practically bouncing off of her bed, where she sat on the very edge with a book laying on her lap (as she was supposed to be reading).
"Why are you so happy?" Arthur asked indignantly as he strolled into the room. Not many eight year olds strolled, but Arthur was just that sort of boy.
"Cousin Rayna is coming today! In just half an hour!" Sarah kept bouncing on the bed, until her book fell off of her lap and landed with a thud on the floor.
"I don't know why that's a cause for celebration," Arthur huffed.
Sarah knew that Arthur was just grouchy. He was always grouchy between breakfast and lunch. "But she's different, Arthur!" she tried to explain. "She does magic, like Grandpa Charlie!"
Arthur blinked several times. "How do you know?" he asked curiously.
Sarah paused uncertainly. "I just know. Mother doesn't talk about Grandpa Charlie, and she doesn't talk about Cousin Rayna. See?"
But Arthur just shook his head, trying to look pitying and knowledgeable, of which he was neither. "She doesn't talk about Grandpa Charlie because he lives far, far away. And we barely know him, anyways."
"But he's her father!" Sarah argued. "And we do know him. He calls on the telephone, and sends letters all the time, and – "
"Oh, please!" Arthur snorted. "When was the last time you talked to him?"
Sarah wasn't sure, so she didn't say anything. Arthur assumed a gloating pose, then said rather snobbishly, "Well, I don't think she's anything special. Good thing she won't be here long."
If Sarah had been more assertive, she would have said something like "Well, you're not anything special, either!" She was not very assertive, though, and she didn't want to be mean, so she kept her mouth a tight line and didn't say anything at all. But she was so upset with Arthur that she rose from her bed and walked out the door, leaving her book on the floor.
You can't really blame him, she told herself kindly. It is three and a half hours until lunchtime, after all.
Not wanting to go back to her room and face Arthur's bad mood, she slumped into the living room and threw herself down on the couch. "What's the matter?" her mother said distractedly from her chair in the corner, where she was knitting steadily. Mother always knit when she was anxious.
"Nothing," Sarah mumbled, face down on the couch. Her mother hmm-ed, and the click of the knitting needles filled the room. Sarah lay there with her face buried in a cushion and her feet dangling off the arm of the couch. She sighed loudly. Her mother continued to knit. She sighed again.
When she got no response, she heaved herself off of the couch, grunting and groaning. Scuffed her un-shoed feet against the carpeted floor. Stared up at the clock for a while. Eight forty-two. Eight forty-five.
Finally, she couldn't take it any longer, and she stood herself up and announced that she would be in the yard, and before her mother could look up and stop her, she was out the door. The air was brisk and cool, almost cutting. The light fog hung very low – it was as if you could reach out and grab a handful, if you wanted. But Sarah was not so inclined, and preferred to hop from stepping stone to stepping stone, until she had traveled from the front porch to the gate. She almost slipped on the second to last step, catching herself just in time.
She grasped the iron gate with both hands, letting it support her, feeling the sting of the cold metal. She took a deep breath, then blew out, and saw the delightful puff of white that her breath made in the frigid air. It must be at least eight fifty by now, she thought. Cousin Rayna will be here soon.
And at the very moment that she thought this, as her eyes glanced upwards of the black gate, there was a loud crash from the house, and she spun around in surprise. There was a shout, and the sound of something being knocked over, and another shout… Sarah stumbled back to the house, not bothering with the stepping stones, and raced inside.
She could hear her mother saying something in a shrill voice, with a lower one answering, and she realized that it was her brother who had been shouting, because her mother never raised her voice, and only got quieter and quieter when she was angry…
Perhaps Rayna had come in the back door?
Chapter Two
Rayna tumbled out of the fireplace and landed on the floor, coughing wretchedly. She hated traveling by floo powder. Stupid fireplace. Stupid cold floor. Stupid mode of transportation in general, really.
There was silence for a few seconds as she finished coughing and tried to breathe steadily, but then it was broken by a scream. A young boy it sounded like. "Mother! Mother!" Rayna realized that he must have been standing in the doorway, because she heard him take off from several feet away, pounding footsteps and more shouting.
Rayna lay in the middle of the living room, lightly coated in ashes, and rather shocked by her reception. Sure, she hadn't been expecting a parade. But anything less than shouting and angry questions might have been nice.
She rubbed her hands on her jeans, then realized that they, too, were dirty. Ashes must have found their way into her eyes, because they stung, and she would have liked something to wipe her face with.
Rayna wanted to curl up in the corner but reconsidered when she heard someone approaching. "What do you mean, she fell out of the fireplace?" a woman's voice said crossly. "She would have been burnt, Arthur, really! If you're so bored that you're making up stories, I can find something for you to do in your spare time!"
Rayna struggled to her feet, feeling weak and woozy. She dusted herself off with her hands, and swiped haphazardly at her face, before deciding that her hair was a lost cause, and no amount of fussing would fix it just now.
She blinked and rubbed her eyes quickly, then let her hands fall to her sides. Then there was a gasp from behind her, from the woman, who had just entered the room. The boy, "I told you, I told you she was there!" he said imploringly, but the woman hushed him unsympathetically.
But then, before the woman could say or do anything more than gasp and reprimand her son – for Rayna was now sure that this woman was her aunt, and this boy her cousin Arthur – Rayna heard a door slamming, and a pair of feet darting down what she assumed was a hallway (she had not yet had time to look around at her surroundings).
There was a pregnant pause. She could almost sense someone taking in a deep breath, and then: "You're Cousin Rayna!" and she knew it must be Sarah.
Rayna smiled for the first time in several days and turned to face the doorway and her family. "Yeah."
Her aunt was a young woman, maybe thirty, with a slim build and long blonde-brown hair, that if let down all the way might even reach her waist. She wore a shocked expression – had she expected her ten year old niece to apparate into the bushes in the front yard and politely knock on the door? – and she seemed confused and unsure.
Arthur was tall for his age and thin-limbed, and he, too, shared his mother's hair, though cut quite close to his head. He looked as if he might burst into tears at this oddest of arrivals, and Rayna almost felt sympathy for him until he actually started to cry. Honestly! Rayna thought. It's as if he's never met a witch before in his life!
Sarah was standing slightly behind her mother and brother, obviously trying to edge her way into the room as she attempted to squeeze between them. But her mother wasn't budging, and she even pushed Arthur a bit behind her, as if to protect him from this strange new presence. Sarah was a small girl, thin as a stick like her brother, and slightly shorter. She looked more like she was six than eight years old as she now must be. She was practically hopping up and down in her excitement, grinning wildly at her cousin, this new zoo attraction.
"You're Rayna, you're Rayna!" she laughed, now really bouncing off the walls. "You're like Grandpa Charlie, aren't you? Can you do magic, too?"
And she managed to pass by her mother, who looked completely dumbfounded at this mention of her father, and tore across the room to where Rayna stood, bemused. Then Sarah did the strangest thing yet. She reached over slowly, eyes connected with Rayna's, and grasped her hand. She smiled. Rayna smiled back.
Her aunt now seemed to come to her senses, though, and she marched towards them from the doorway, her son following miserably behind. "Sarah!" she snapped. "Let go of your cousin's hand." Her tone made Rayna want to hit her. She looked down at Sarah's face, crumpling at her mother's reprimand, and became even angrier. Sarah let go, and trained her eyes on the ground. It made Rayna want to hug her and take her away from here. Just for a while.
"Rayna." The word hung between them, uttered by her aunt. Rayna didn't reply, just cocked an eyebrow and waited.
"Your parents –?" the woman began.
Rayna's eyes narrowed of their accord. "At home," she replied, making it plain right off that she disliked the subject.
"How long will you be staying, then? The rest of the summer, I assume."
Rayna blinked. She had been under the impression that she would be staying here for a much longer amount of time. "I don't know."
The woman was obviously unnerved, so she said, "A glass of water, maybe?"
"Sure."
Her aunt walked out of the room, her shoulders stiff, and Arthur followed. It was easy to see that she expected her daughter to come along as well, and indeed, Sarah looked as if she thought she was breaking the rules by staying a moment longer.
"Are you a witch?" she whispered, glancing nervously at the door, which her mother had just disappeared through.
Rayna thought for a moment, considered. "I don't know," she said eventually. Sarah nodded, unsatisfied but out of time, and scurried from the room.
Rayna stayed glued in place, her eyes downcast. Lately, she didn't know anything for sure. Not even if she was a witch.
Chapter Three
Rayna was still standing in that same spot several moments later, but instead of trying not to cry, she was now surveying the room in which she had landed. It was spacious and airy, with windows spaced out evenly in front of her, and French doors to her left, leading out to a garden, she supposed. To her right was another door, leading to a hallway, and behind her was the fireplace and an arrangement of chairs, coffee tables, and loveseats. How very quaint, she thought dryly.
And in front of her, between two white-bordered windows, was a rectangular picture frame, and the picture shocked her for a second before she remembered where she was. Certainly, it was not odd for her aunt to have a picture of her family hung in her home. It wasn't exactly against the law, after all. But Rayna was wishing that it was, that this picture wasn't here, in this room, ruining her fragile composure all over again.
She heard the creak of the floorboards behind her, and instead of spinning around as her instincts wished, she kept still, with her eyes straight ahead.
"Nice welcoming committee," Rayna said plainly, her eyes trained on the picture, hung perfectly straight and center on the wall. "That's you?" She gestured towards the younger blonde lady, next to her Uncle Todd.
"Yes," said the woman's voice from behind her. "Between my brother, Todd, and my sister, Anna."
"I know," said Rayna coolly. "She's my mother, after all."
There was a rather awkward silence. She didn't bother saying anything to fix it.
"Well," her aunt said crisply. "I brought you some water." She handed Rayna the glass and Rayna took a sip. It was so cold that it made her teeth hurt. She drank it down as quickly as she could, blinking at the sudden, though expected, chill.
The silence resumed, and it was even more uncomfortable than before. So uncomfortable that Rayna was tempted to say something, anything, to make it go away. But she didn't. She mentally refused to talk, to give in before her aunt did.
They waited, staring around at the room, but never looking at each other for too long. Rayna had seen her aunt before, when she stood in the doorway with Arthur only moments earlier, but now she was much closer, and Rayna could tell that she was quite pretty. But that didn't mean she had to like her. She definitely wasn't going to like her.
"Well," said her aunt. "Well. I guess I'll show you to your room."
Rayna gave a hesitant nod and followed after her, holding the empty water glass loosely at her side. Her room - the guest room, she was informed, with a definite emphasis on 'guest' - was only a few steps down the hallway. It was between Arthur's and Sarah's, she was sure. One room was extremely bright, lots of pinks and purples, and the other was almost completely void of ornaments and personal touches. This seemed to her a safe assumption to make.
Her aunt left her in the doorway of the guest room, giving an odd little nod of her head, as if she couldn't decide how to treat this new problem, this niece that had suddenly appeared. She grabbed the water glass at the last second as she turned away, and clutched it to herself tightly as she turned around the corner. Rayna gave a nearly audible sigh of relief. She didn't know how to treat her aunt any more than her aunt knew how to treat her. Perhaps mutual silence was best.
Rayna stood in the middle of the living room, lightly coated in ashes, and rather shocked by her reception. Sure, she hadn't been expecting a parade. But anything less than shouting and angry questions might have been nice.
She rubbed her hands on her jeans, then realized that they, too, were dirty. Ashes must have found their way into her eyes, because she could barely see, and she wanted something to wipe her face with.
"Why did you do that? I thought you were going to – " the voice stopped short. Obviously they had not known how she was going to arrive. Did they expect her ten-year-old self to apparate? Rayna felt like laughing, but didn't.
And there was still someone, someone who sounded like a young boy, shouting. And shouting.
It was almost enough to make her start crying again, except she was more annoyed than upset, and she was too busy trying to dust herself off. She blinked repeatedly, trying to dislodge the dirt that was irritating her eyes. Stupid dirt. Stupid fireplace. Stupid mode of transportation in general, really.
"You weren't supposed to be here until nine!" came the shrill voice, the voice of whom Rayna was now quite sure was her aunt. She opened her eyes cautiously, squinting at the walls of the room until she located a clock. Eight fifty-five, it looked like. That made her want to laugh, too, but she restrained herself.
She blinked several times, then glared up in the general direction of the voice. "I'm terribly sorry," she said sarcastically. "Would you like me to come back in five minutes?"
The young boy, surely her cousin Arthur, had stopped shouting. Finally. She heard him quickly cross the room and whisper something to her aunt. And then, barely a moment later, as Rayna stood before the fireplace, still partially blinded by the grains of ash, she heard a door slamming shut and light feet darting towards the room. Whomever it was skidded to a stop a few feet away.