Free Stained by Jessica McBrayer

witches for generations, her book of shadows and any other texts she thought might help her in her search. Tonight would be long and arduous, and if all else failed she would scry for the dark one. She hoped she didn’t have to go that far. It would be like ringing his doorbell.
    Thorn moved the first and most likely grimoire close to the light so she could study it. It was older than her, older by 300 years and written in Gaelic. The cover was dyed black leather and the pages were fading. The spells placed on them kept them from disappearing altogether. Intricate drawings littered the margins and bizarre ingredients that were very difficult to find were listed throughout the book. Thorn tenderly went through, page by page studying each one, looking for something that made sense.
    Towards the end of the book she found an annotation that intrigued her.…to capture their power you must use a bag made of skin from magick makers…
    It was written in someone’s handwriting and the rest had faded away. But it grabbed her attention. She quickly pulled down another book, and another, to cross-reference power-stealing. What she found both amazed and frightened her.
    She learned there was more than one way to capture another witch’s power. One was at the time of their death. You said an incantation over them after you killed them. The crux was that you must be the one to kill them. This was definitely dark magick. No wonder she had never heard of it before. The second way was the way she was looking for, and much more difficult. She felt sure the killer was using both methods.
    In the second power-stealing method, you used a bag or satchel sewn out of the skin that has been magicked. Her talismans would fit this requirement perfectly. In this bag you would capture the powers of a particularly powerful witch. The actual attack would take place during a battle and would strip the witch of his or her power. This was the only way to take the power of a born witch. It was best to use pixie, fairy, or vampire skin, but witch skin would work in a bind. Since the first two were very hard to find, the killer must be banking on her bewitched talismans to make the skin more powerful. That’s why this killer hasn’t tried to kill her. He doesn’t have enough skin yet.
    Now, to track the dark one. He was a born witch too. His father had taken him away at birth and she only found out about him after Muirin died. She remembered meeting her brother, the first time.
    It was the night Raven came to her. He’d flown in the window and cawed softly at her.
    “Aren’t you special,” she said, in an awed voice.
    “Need me,” Raven said.
    “What’s your name?”
    “No name. Name’s bad.”
    “I’ll call you Raven,” Thorn said, as she scratched him behind the eyes. Raven cawed softly again and shut his eyes in appreciation. At that moment the doorbell rang.
    “Trouble,” Raven said. Thorn went on alert. She knew he was there for a reason. Mamó must have sent him. He had found her, that’s how it was with familiars. She answered the door.
    Thorn looked out at a young man not too much older than herself. He seemed familiar. She opened the door. He fidgeted, looking around. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. He was not much taller than her own, five-foot-seven-inch frame and had her blue black hair. It was long and in a ponytail. His eyes were the deepest blue she had ever seen. Just like the ones that shone out of the pictures she had seen of her mother. He wore a garnet colored velvet jacket in an old fashioned style, with a poet’s shirt. He looked like a bad imitation of Lord Byron. Magick radiated from him. He made her nervous.
    “Thorn, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
    “Who are you,” she asked, hesitating on the doorstep.
    “I’m your half-brother. Caleb. We share the same mother.” He reached out his hand to shake hers. When their fingers met she felt a shock run between them. She was surprised, but Caleb seemed to