A/N: Been a while since I posted anything. This is just me, hey, I'm still alive post. Not in an area where I would usually submit though. I've been reading Kelley Armstrong's books lately and this was my writer's block project one Saturday night when I couldn't spell. Probably lots of spelling errors since I was drowsy and haven't reread it since for fear of the whole, this isn't good enough to post ailment. Get that a lot.
Anyways, enjoy the sarcastic and sassy narration of Savannah: my favorite character.
Disclaimer: Kelley Armstrong owns everything. I am not awesome enough nor can I hope to be to own such a series.
Defend Like a Witch, Fight Like a Sorcerer
I feel that, at certain, appropriate times, people are entitled to having a mental breakdown. Like say—oh I don't know—you just killed an innocent solicitor because you just got fired by your perverted boss because you refused to sleep with him, your hair wouldn't cooperate today, your boyfriend dumped you via text message for that bimbo blonde, your powers were short-circuiting, and no, how many times did you have to tell the guy, you did not want to buy a new insurance policy.
I strongly feel that such reasons as stated above would entitle anyone to have a mental breakdown complete with the hysteric bawling, fetal position, and choruses of "I didn't mean it."
Such is the life of a witch, sorcerer hybrid with a hint of demon blood there for flavoring.
The name's Savannah Levine. Cue the "Levine? Now where have I heard-? Oh. …Oh. Are you…Eve's daughter? Really. Shit. Well, I, uh, have somewhere to be right now. Y-You want to talk later? Uh… Oh, um, sadly we can't. See, I'm moving to Australia. Today. Indefinitely. Bye!" And people wonder why my social calendar is also open.
See, Mom was kind of big deal in the otherworld. Eve Levine: Powerful witch that could light you up like a Christmas tree without ruffling a hair. Such a title unfortunately came with a bad reputation. Don't get me wrong. She didn't kill anybody or repeatedly torture them within an inch of their life. The spells she learned were purely for self-defense. If anything, she was a godsend compared to those Coven witches who wouldn't lift a finger when one of their own was in danger. But, you know how it is. You electrocute one sorcerer that had been getting too handsy and suddenly you're the devil reincarnated.
Yep, that was Mom.
Mom's dead now. Killed at gunpoint when we were trying to escape this facility that kidnapped supernaturals in hopes of finding at how they could harness our power for their own selfish wishes. Humans. All the same if you ask me. I was then rescued a year or so later by Elena—only living female werewolf—and Paige—ex-Coven leader. The escape was messy with guns blazing, spells flying, half-demons slamming people into walls, sorcerers versus witches, the whole nine yards. All we needed was for some necromancer to come along and raise an army of the dead to fight along beside us and we would have Hollywood quality stuff. I myself have thought of what it would be like to turn our many adventures into movies. Certain blockbusters let me tell you. And for the many troubles the humans have put us through, the least they could do is line our wallets. I actually suggested it once to Paige; shot down faster than I could say 'but.'
Which brings me to Paige Winterbourne: my current guardian. In hindsight, I should have been carted off to her mother Ruth Winterbourne but since she was killed via flying clock—courtesy of that sniveling half-demon, Leah—that's kind of impossible. So Paige was next in line. Now, at first, I didn't like Paige. Little Miss Know-It-All in her glorious five-foot-ness. But, well, you know, you live with a person for a while and you start to mesh whether you liked to or not. We can't take all the glory though. Lucas Cortez sped up the process. Lucas: Lawyer for those supernaturals who are in the midst of a opposing a Cabal (corporation run by sorcerers and their little minions. Dad was head of one. Don't like 'em much. Bad memories). He and I clicked and in a way he sorta bridged the gap between Paige and me. All the drama with the custody stuff also helped also helped.
Now, Paige could have shipped me off to another Coven witch. She didn't have to deal with me and I knew what a pain I was back then. She could have dispatched me when the first whiff of trouble arose with the whole Leah and Dad versus Paige for custody of me. But she didn't. Even when the Coven threatened to exile her, she was all "No way. She stays." Even when the Coven really did exile her and she was forced to turn her back on all she grew up believing in—never mind the fact that they were total hypocrites—she stayed with me. And for that, I am eternally grateful. (But you'll never see me telling her that to her face. Gotta reputation to uphold.)
If you got the impression that I get into a lot of trouble, you're right. I was the Most Wanted Kid in the World at one point. Now that I'm twenty-one and have almost mastered my powers, the title has changed a bit. People no longer show up on my doorstep claiming to have known my mother and can teach me how to summon her if I just do this or that. They've found sneakier ways to force their will on me. They've also failed to notice that I've gotten smarter as the years go on and can easily outwit them in a battle of strategy or strength.
Well, not physical strength, but mental strength. Magic-wise.
I know dark magic. Sorcerer spells, some call it. The kind the Coven strictly forbids because they're all that is sparkling good in the world and any spell that so much as plucks a hair from a dog's head is considered vile. That leaves them with puny witch magic that, at its greatest, freezes a person for as long as they can hold onto their concentration. Seeing a problem with this?
Paige is trying to change all that. Key word: trying. She's learning some powerful witch magic as well as some deadly sorcerer spells. The kind the Coven would fall over dead if they knew what she was doing. But why would we care? At least we can properly defend ourselves now. Paige is also trying to get other non-Coven witches to go along with the idea, start another Coven. A true Coven. One that'll help witches everywhere and not choose favorites.
Unfortunately, the fact that I'm her ward, the daughter of big, bad Eve, other witches are generally scared of coming around. Wimps. On the up side, now that I've moved out, witches seem to be coming around more often, getting to know Paige, liking her ideas, tasting real magic. Won't be long now. Those old Coven hags had better learn to sleep with one eye open.
So, like I said, yeah I've acquired my Mom's taste for dark-magic. So what? As long as I don't go on a power rampage and start killing anyone that looks at me funny, all's good with the world. Build a bridge and get over it. All things considered, I was doing pretty good. I have my powers under control.
The solicitor slumped down on my welcome mat, sightless eyes staring up at me, states otherwise.
All I did was yell at him to get the heck out. That's all. I didn't call for that energy bolt to accompany it. I didn't recite the spell. I hadn't made the hand motions. It shouldn't have happened.
I blink, hoping that my eyes are betraying me. They aren't. He's still there. Still dead.
Oh God, what have I done?
To see the root of this problem, we'll probably have to trace all my frustrations back to their source. Because all of that stuff before, while annoying, shouldn't have set me off like that by themselves. Coupled together, maybe, but still highly unlikely. I had been angry before and nothing had happened. So there had to be a trigger. Something that topped all of my other problems like a barbell and threatened to crush me as soon as I let go. The other problems had forced me to let go and now this guy had paid for it.
I knew what that trigger was.
And it had a name.