Witch's Awakening by Neely Powell

slipped into her place next to Maggie. Brenna took the chair at the end, opposite Sarah. She looked long and hard at the empty chair that was still available next to Eva Grace. “Who are we expecting?”
    Instead of answering her, Sarah said, “I’ve given the events of the past week a lot of thought. I believe the best thing we can do is get some outside help.”
    â€œWho do you think can help us?” Brenna asked.
    To her credit, Sarah didn’t delay. “I’ve called Delia and Aiden, and they’ll be here the day after tomorrow. So they’re not really outsiders.”
    Brenna sat silent, trading unblinking stares with Sarah as the cacophony of voices rose around them. She leaned forward, her hoarse whisper cutting through the din. “Why the hell would you want to bring
them
here?”
    Sarah’s eyes narrowed and her hands were flat against the ancient wooden table. The coven again fell silent as she answered, “Your mother belongs here.”
    â€œYou’ve never thought she was needed before.”
    â€œThat was different.”
    â€œWhen I fell out of the barn loft and broke my arm and my leg, you told her to stay in France.”
    â€œYou were taken care of by all of us,” Sarah retorted. “Your mother and father couldn’t have done anything.”
    Except maybe comforted me,
Brenna thought,
soothed me, loved me
. Instead, she had been with Sarah who told her everything would be fine and was sure that, somehow, it would. Because Sarah always expected Brenna to be fine, to be strong, to not cry or be afraid. On the one hand, that expectation made Brenna strong and independent. On the other hand, she was taught never to count on anyone but herself.
    Brenna’s thoughts turned to another memory. “Why didn’t you call them when I won the art prize my senior year and got a scholarship?”
    â€œWe couldn’t interrupt your father’s studies in Russia. They sent you a beautiful gift.”
    A bracelet Brenna had thrown over the cliff. Sarah tried grounding her for that, but Brenna was eighteen and it was pointless. Brenna was contented with the frustration Sarah felt when her strongest spells couldn’t locate the lost jewelry. The younger witch had cloaked the bracelet well. It still lay buried under a rock at the bottom of the waterfall.
    Memories of anger and hurt and missing her parents bubbled inside Brenna. It was one thing they had ignored her from the moment she was born—Brenna was strong and capable of enduring their absence–but what about Fiona?
    She demanded of Sarah. “Remember when the voices came at Fiona so hard and heavy when she was twelve? She was growing up, learning to be a woman and a witch and trying to deal with half the dead people in Mourne County. That didn’t warrant a summons for the mighty Delia and Aiden Burns.”
    â€œDon’t, Brenna,” Fiona said, leaning forward to touch her arm. “It doesn’t matter.”
    â€œYes, it does,” Brenna said. “It matters to me why Sarah thinks now is suddenly the time to bring Delia and Aiden here. We’re facing the crisis of our generation. One of us is going to die unless we find a way around it. And judging from what happened to Garth, innocents are going with us. What can the mighty scientist and his witch do about that? The only thing they do well is run around the globe chasing their own dreams. And it’s not like Delia
decided
to come home. Sarah probably had to beg her.”
    â€œThat’s not true,” Sarah claimed. “She wants to be here. She was here when Celia was taken, so she remembers this terrible time. She’s faced what you’re facing.”
    â€œNo doubt Aiden wants to write a paper about the phenomenon,” Brenna said with derision.
    â€œHe’s your father. Address him with the respect he deserves.”
    â€œAll right,” Brenna said tightly. “No