The Witch's Initiation. Elle James

From Aurai’s texts, she’d conjured an image of a shy girl with self-esteem issues because of a less than perfect body and face.

      This young woman was like so many others in the building, beautiful and too perfect for her comfort. Deme touched her own chin, conscious of the scar there from the time she dove into a creek as a preteen and hit the bottom. The mouthful of rocks had been the least of her worries at the time—the scar a constant reminder to look before you dive into unknown waters.

      Deme swallowed hard to keep from choking on her next words. Words she fought hard to keep natural. “I hear your roommate bailed on you.”

      Rachel’s elegantly arched brows drew downward into a frown. “What did you hear?”

      “Only that she bailed. Do you want me to find another girl to share your room?” It cost Deme to offer. More than anything she wanted to find her sister, but she didn’t want the girls of the dorm to know that was her real reason for being there.

      “No!” Rachel reached out to touch Deme, her hand shaking, a pained twist in dark brows. “Aurai will be back. I just know it. She probably just got homesick or something and went home for a few days. She’ll be back, I tell you.” Her hand fell to her side, her voice fading. “She has to come back.”

      “Rachel?” A male voice called out behind Deme. “Is that you?” The voice belonged to a tall, gangly young man, more typical of what Deme expected from a college student. His hair hung too long around his ears, the excess flesh around his cheeks and middle gave him a big teddy-bear look.

      Rachel’s smile widened and her chin dipped. “Hi, Mike.”

      For a beautiful girl, she lacked the confidence that came with a perfect complexion and figure. No, Rachel didn’t resemble the outward picture Aurai had painted. Not in the slightest sense. But the way she acted around the boy displayed a hint of the crippling shyness Deme had expected.

      “Um…can we talk later?” Rachel looked up at Deme, who stood at least a head taller than the girl. Rachel’s expression begged for release.

      “Sure. Just wanted to introduce myself and get to know some of the girls in the dorm.”

      “I promise I’ll come by later. It’s just…” She blushed and shot a shy glance at the boy. “I have to go.”

      The young man stood as though transfixed, his jaw drooping. “Rachel?” He didn’t seem to recognize the girl in front of him.

      “Yeah, Mike, it’s me.” She hooked his arm and led him away from Deme.

      “What happened to you?” Mike was saying as Rachel dragged him down the hall.

      “Sorority science project?” she quipped, laughing shakily, her voice fading as she stepped through the door leading to the stairwell.

      Sorority science project? Deme shook her head and took out the ring of keys she’d been entrusted with as the resident assistant. She waited until the hallway emptied and jammed the key into the lock. She unlocked and opened the door, darting in as one of the doors on the floor squeaked open.

      Her heart racing, Deme shut the door and stood with her back to it.

      The room was nothing to write home about. Two twin-size beds, two utility dressers and two closets comprised the major assets. The dormitory was old enough that the bathroom was down the hall and shared by the entire floor. Deme had passed it on the way to Aurai’s room. A cleaning schedule had been worked out and posted on the bulletin board beside the entrance.

      One bed had a soft pink comforter with a giant black-and-white-dots pattern spread across its surface. Leaning against the wall were three pillows in the black, pink and white of the coverlet. Not something Aurai would have chosen in a million years. It had to be Rachel’s bed.

      As Deme glanced around the room, her stomach knotted. The other bed had a midnight-blue coverlet with gold stars, silver moons and white clouds sprinkled across it. So typical of Aurai. Always the dramatic one, playing up her heritage as a witch in subtle ways without actually confessing to those around her. While she’d dreamed of blending in with regular people, she was drawn to the mystical and magical in ways only her sisters understood.

      Her eyes blurring, Deme continued her perusal, her gaze landing on a picture frame perched on the dresser beside the pink bed. A dark-haired, nondescript girl stood between two adults, equally nondescript, presumably her parents.

      Deme lifted the frame and stared down at the photograph. Scrawled in flowing cursive were the words We love you, Rachel. Mom and Dad. Upon closer inspection, the girl in the picture was everything Aurai had described, chubby, pockmarked, frizzy-haired and slumping like a shy girl.

      How could a person change so much in so short a time? As if she’d transformed overnight. Deme removed her cell phone from her back pocket and snapped a picture of the photograph. She’d show her sisters and get their opinion. No amount of makeup could cover pockmarks that deep. And the Rachel she’d met in the hallway didn’t have a single blemish. Could there be two Rachels with the same last name?

      Deme replaced the picture frame and examined the contents of the dresser. Beside the frame was an ornate blue bottle with a very small amount of liquid inside.

      Careful so as not to spill it, Deme pulled the glass stopper out of the top and sniffed. An acrid aroma wafted up in her face and stung the insides of her nostrils. She quickly jammed the stopper back on the bottle, snorting to get the stench out of her system.

      She held the bottle up, looking for a label where it had none. What the heck was it? Was it medicine? It had to be something strong. Even now, her sinuses pinched in protest, her head aching from the residual stench. She shook her head to clear a sudden dizzy feeling then set the bottle on the dresser and continued her search. For what, she wasn’t certain. Any clue as to her sister’s whereabouts would be nice. She wasn’t so sure it could be found in her roommate’s belongings.

      The first drawer inside Rachel’s dresser contained a myriad of hair accessories, facial cleansers, acne medication and perfume bottles. Typical toiletries for a female exiting her teens. The acne creams were in keeping with the girl in the picture.

      The remaining drawers contained clothing befitting the conservative lifestyle of a shy, withdrawn girl of larger proportions than the Rachel who’d left the room a few minutes earlier.

      Books, a backpack and more clothing were the contents of Rachel’s little closet. Nothing that gave a hint to her part in Aurai’s disappearance, except perhaps the black robe hanging as far to the back as possible, almost hidden by a pale blue formal. Deme snapped a picture of the robe, unsure of its purpose in a coed’s closet. Especially a freshman so far from potential graduation. And the robe had a hood. Not typical of graduation gowns.

      Having avoided her sister’s belongings, Deme finally turned to her side of the small room. Throughout her investigation of Rachel’s things, she’d felt her sister’s presence in her belongings. Everything Aurai touched left a residual aura of the youngest Chattox sibling.

      The photograph on her dresser was a picture taken several years ago when all five sisters had been home at the same time. Her mother had been alive and snapped the picture, capturing the essence of each girl in one still image. Deme stood tallest in the center, her red hair glinting copper in the sunshine, loose and wavy around her shoulders, her face serious, as befitting the oldest daughter.

      Selene stood on one side of Deme, her dark brown hair piled high on her head, her brown-black eyes fathomless, a secret smile playing on her lips. On Deme’s other side, Gina had her arm around Deme and Brigid, her willowy body clothed in light blues and greens, her sandy-blond hair a sharp contrast to Brigid’s coal-black mane and bold, black, Goth attire. Gina’s smile was gentle, like a day at the beaches she loved. Brigid, on the other hand, stood with a cocky tilt to her head, her eyebrows arched as if to challenge anyone to say anything even slightly offbeat.

      Beside Selene, Aurai stood with a happy, innocent grin, her pale blond hair lifted by her blessed wind. She couldn’t have been more than twelve