Chapter 2 - mother knows best

Xanthe’s stomach sank. “He’s not a witch hunter!” she countered.

“Yes he is, darling. And you would have spotted it, had you been practising your craft. The stink of it is all over him. I nearly choked, just breathing it in!”

Not knowing what to do, Xanthe looked down at the table. “But… he’s only nineteen; he can’t be a witch-hunter yet.”

“Of course not, dear. Otherwise you would already be dead, wouldn’t you?” her mother shot back, taking a shot of her neat whiskey and throwing her head back sharply. “But you’ll still have to kill him. Another couple of months, maybe six or seven, if you’re lucky, and he’ll be a witch-killing machine, just like the rest of them.” She looked over her shoulder to ensure that no one was within earshot. “I’m guessing you haven’t met his family yet, otherwise they would have killed you as well.”

“He only has his mom. His dad died when he was little,” Xanthe explained, knowing that the witch-hunter gene was carried through the male line. “Their surname is Spencer. But he has a cousin from his dad’s side!” she shot back, finally feeling a bit of hope that her mother might be wrong after all. “He goes to school here. He’s the same age. They’re best friends. He’s definitely not a witch-hunter. He’s too…”

“Fat?” her mother finished bluntly for her; sounding completely unsurprised.

“Well…” Xanthe mumbled, disappointed that her mother had not been at all moved by this new information.She was one step ahead, just as she always was. “He’s been partying pretty hard since we got here. He’s put on a lot of weight.”

Xanthe’s mother rolled her eyes, as if disappointed at her daughter’s lack of knowledge. “It’s always the way with witch-hunters. Around this age, they either they bulk-up and become active witch-hunters, like Thomas clearly is; or they become hideously overweight, like this cousin, and remain completely human. It’s as if the witch-hunter gene can’t express itself correctly in some people and it skips that generation.” She lit a cigarette and lifted a hand to magically shoo a waitress who came over to stop her. “Your great aunt Florence was killed by a Spencer. Your grandmother destroyed him for it, though. You and Thomas are only drawn to each other because of this curse. You know he’s feeding off your power and suppressing it, don’t you?”

“No!” Xanthe replied, hardly coping with all of this information swirling all around her, and suddenly feeling very angry. “I can’t believe it! Does he know what he’s doing as well? Will he know I have magic yet?”

“On some level he will, yes,” her mother replied, without much care. “You’re lucky I came here when I did. Another couple of months and that would’ve been the end of you. You can’t stop a maggot from becoming a fly. So, how are we going to do this? I think I have some poison in my bag… We can do it tonight."

“You say I have another couple of months?” Xanthe asked, watching as the handsome witch-hunter started returning from the bathroom. “I need to think about this.”