[THE FOLLOWING MORNING. . .]
Xanthe nibbled at her fingernails as she paced the length of the holding cell.
She had been so bothered by yesterday's ordeal that she couldn't sleep a wink.
After her failed enchantment spell last night, that cruel existence of a man had made his guards drag her all the way to the police station. He didn't even have the slightest decency to offer her a change of clothing or let her dry herself at least.
It was a miracle she didn't freeze to death throughout the night.
How could anyone be so brutal? That. . . that demonic entity from hell!
Well, looking on the bright side, she now knew who "the cops" were. . . and they weren't really nice people. Especially, the redheaded officer who had denied her a hot cup of tea when she'd politely asked for one.
Anyway, that wasn't the problem at the moment. . .
Her biggest problem was the fact that her powers had no effect on. . . what was his name again? Ah, yes! LORENZO.
She might have little to no knowledge of spells and how they work since she was never taught in the first place. But, the Enchantment Spell was the basis of the basis for every witch of the Central Coven.
She'd secretly even tried it out on the fortress guards now and then without the High Priestess's knowledge.
So what exactly went wrong?
Were the people of this realm—wherever this realm may be—resistant to magic?
Or did she lose her powers while making her way through the portal?
Xanthe's pacing quickened as terror dug its cold claws into her guts. "No, there's no way," She said under her breath. "There's no way."
The thought of losing her powers was equally as horrifying as getting sacrificed. . .
Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. There was nothing as horrifying as getting sacrificed.
But what was a witch without her powers?
She needed to be sure her powers were still intact. She had to cast another spell, to be certain where the issue came from. . .
"Ugh. . ." Someone let out a frustrated groan, interrupting her thoughts. "Can you quit pacing, Barbie? You're making me hella dizzy."
Ah! She almost forgot she wasn't the only one in the holding cell.
Xanthe halted in mid-stride and veered to the young woman sitting at the corner of the holding cell. She looked like a vengeful ghost who had just been summoned from the deepest part of the underworld.
She was dressed in all black. From her oversized shirt to her worn jeans down to her heavy boots. Her multiple-pierced earlobes and nose were adorned with a variety of dark rings. Even her makeup was not left out.
Everything about her was terrifying, and Xanthe knew not to mess with her. The bruises on her knuckles were evidence enough that she'd been destroying something. . . or someone.
Xanthe forced a tight-lipped smile and even gave a polite nod. "My apologies, Miss."
Before the other woman could respond—though it didn't seem like she was planning to—the redheaded officer. . . Yes! The stingy one who had refused her a cup of tea. . . came banging the bars of their cell with an extendable baton.
"Hey, You! Time to go," she called out to the Gloom Princess as she unlocked the door of their cell.
The Gloom Princess climbed to her feet and walked out the door which the redhead was holding open for her.
"Can you stop coming back here for the love of God?" The redhead pleaded while the other woman smirked obnoxiously at her. "I'm sick of seeing your face here every goddamned week. Can you PLEASE use your words instead of your fist?"
"Can't make any promises there, Aunt Janet," she replied, her smug smile still in place. "Thank you for your warm hospitality, though. You're the best aunt ever!"
Xanthe watched as both of them glared at each other. The tension charging between them was sharp enough to slash through metal. But that was the very least of her concerns. All she thought about was confirming the existence of her powers and finding a way out of this depressing cell.
As the Gloom Princess gave up on the scowling contest and walked away, Xanthe called out to the officer. "Um, excuse me!"
The redhead gave Xanthe her attention only but her piercing gaze was filled with different degrees of scorn.
WHAT EXACTLY WAS HER PROBLEM? WHY WAS SHE ANGRY ALL THE TIME?
The redhead waved her finger in her face. "If you're going to ask me for a cup of tea again, I swear to God. . ."
"No! Not that!" Xanthe cut in with a sweet smile. "Can you let me speak to the cop in charge of my case? I'm willing to come clean."
The redhead fixed her with a long look, her eyes staring deep into her soul, then she exhaled and unlocked the door. "Come on!"
Xanthe shuffled behind her as she led her to the officer. He looked in his mid-40s or thereabout and. . . just as unpleasant as Cop STINGY Redhead.
When Xanthe took the seat across from him, the officer raised his head from the file he was leafing through. "So. . . you ready to tell me why you were trespassing on Mr. Staniforth's home at 10 pm?"
"Yes!" Xanthe smiled. "But before that, I have more pressing matters to resolve. . ."
She leaned forward onto the table, held his arm, and his gaze in an inescapable entrapment. "Tuum cor exure mea venere. Submittere ad meam voluntatem." She said in a guttural tone. "You will release me at once and exonerate me from this crime."
Suddenly, the awful frown on the cop's face transformed into an affectionate smile. "As you wish, my love," he mumbled in a trance.
IT WORKED! IT WORKED!
Xanthe nearly screamed out loud as the cop began to dish out orders for her release.
Now she was certain her power was not the problem. The problem was that despicable man.
There was definitely something strange about him.
She prayed with every wrinkle in her that she would never cross paths with him again. One encounter was enough to traumatize her for eternity. A second will kill her.
Outside the police station, Xanthe was stunned by the sight of the city. The skyscrapers rising before her, the highway bursting with vehicles, and lots of people shoving past each other were something she'd never seen.
She'd spent her entire life inside the Impermeable Fortress. Never allowed in an open space like this, or even around civilization.
The high priestess had made sure Xanthe never left the building no matter how much she'd begged as if it was her duty to keep her locked in.
Back then, she was clueless about why, but given recent events, she was starting to grasp the situation.
Speaking of the High Priestess. . .
"May the Dark gods keep her safe and alive," Xanthe muttered a silent prayer.
Currently, she wished nothing but to have the older woman here with her. She was so used to having all her problems solved by her. Now, she felt helpless without her.
She had no clue where to go or what to do next. Hell! She had no idea why she was in this situation in the first place.
Or did she?
Xanthe gasped.
THE JOURNAL!
The journal that the High Priestess had given her. One that was supposed to explain everything she needed to know.
WHERE WAS IT?
With fumbling fingers, she began to search through her robe for the journal, but couldn't find it.
"Where in the seven hell is that journal?" Xanthe whined under her breath.
She had most definitely put it in the safety of her robe's inner pocket before she walked through that portal.
Wait a minute!
Could it be. . .?
Instantly, the realization struck her like lightning.
SHE HAD DROPPED THE JOURNAL AT LORENZO'S HOUSE!