Book Four: The Wild
Two pairs of judgmental brown eyes rimmed in wrinkles glared at me where I sat. The weight of their stares pinned me to the musty fabric of the stiff and uncomfortable antique wingback. I wanted very much to squirm, to work my way free from the feeling I'd been jabbed through the abdomen like an insect on a corkboard.
Estelle-or was it Esther?-Lawrence lifted her gaze from me long enough to flicker her attention to my mother. At least Mom hadn't abandoned me to the un-tender mercy of the powerful twin witches. Though tiny, bony, and almost birdlike, I refused to underestimate them. Known for their ability to strip away the unseen and uncover even the deepest secrets, the Lawrence twins were a force to be reckoned with.
Mom sipped her tea from the ancient china cup, the bottom clinking against the delicate saucer like a tiny bell. "As you both are aware," she said, drawing their attention, much to my relief, "Sydlynn has lost her magic."