Wilted by Dianna Hardy

Author:Dianna Hardy [Hardy, Dianna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Magic, Witches, YA
Goodreads: 13457059
Publisher: Bitten Fruit Books
Published: 2012-02-08T16:00:00+00:00

~*~

Nowadays, dinner – which they always ate at the breakfast table, because the dining room was her mother’s second office – was the only time she and her mum ever talked. It hadn’t always been that way, but Elena had committed a fatal crime when she was eight years old: she had brought a butterfly back from the dead. Of course, it was by accident. She’d seen it wilt in flight; she’d seen it fall. At eight years old, she hadn’t been able to bear the sadness of it. She’d held out her hand, and the falling butterfly had landed in her palm. She had surrounded its still form in green light, felt life flow through her and into it; it had fluttered its wings once more and then flown away. It had been the first time her hands had ever glowed – the first time she had ever used her healing magic – and it had been nothing but pure instinct. Her mother had told her she was special – had told her about how she was a witch with a lot of power, but not in a million years would she have dreamed she could do that.

Karl had been with her. His ten-year-old self had been struck dumb, as they’d both watched the tiny creature climb the air currents towards the rays of the sun. She had turned towards him, beamed him a joyful smile, and giggled at the look of adoration on his face.

“You gave it wings,” he had said, awed. Then he had leaned in, pecked her on the cheek, and said, “I love you,” to which her giggle had turned into unrestrained laughter.

Her joy had plummeted as fast as it had soared when she’d caught sight of her mother off to the right, standing under a Willow tree. She knew instantly that she had seen the entire thing.

When she’d finally approached them, her face had been expressionless and for the first time ever, her eyes had been cold … and without being able to put it into words, Elena had known at that moment, that by giving life to the butterfly, she had killed a part of her mother. If she had known that would be the last time she’d see her laugh, or the last time they’d ever sing songs together as they sat on the swings in the park, she would have let the butterfly die.

“I need to talk to you, Elena, about sex.” Her mother’s voice brought her out of her reverie, and she was disturbed to find her heart heavy with sorrow at the past memories. Then she realised what her mum had just said.

“Eeew, Mum,” she mumbled over her last forkful of noodles.

“No interruptions, please. I’ve been dreading this day…” In an unusual gesture, her mother reached across the breakfast table and took her hand. “Elena … you’re special. Being the thirteenth in our family line makes you special … with that come certain responsibilities.”

Elena rolled her eyes. “Mum, I know about condoms and stuff.

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