There was an omniscient, dark cloud that hung over the tiny town of New Brooks for the last eighteen years. The people were well accustomed with the rain and hardly ever flinched at the sound of thunder and lightening, though frightening to others, was treasured since it was the only sliver of light they would be receiving. The rain was the only thing Twyla missed about home. There were plenty of rainy days in Louisiana, especially during hurricane season but there were also plenty of days where the sun would appear and refuse to leave for quite some time. Twyla wasn't like the other girls her age, she didn't have a tanning fetish nor did she necessarily believe that having a good time required sweating half of her body liquid away. She was perfectly content sitting on the stiff, floral cushion beside the parlor window while watching the raindrops race each other on the glass. Her eyes never strayed from the drops; she did that on purpose, to keep herself from glancing at the woods.

There had been one too many traumas in one day and her sanity simply couldn't take another.

The parlor room was dimly lit by a chandelier that gave off the impression that it was lit by candles but was actually lit by candle-looking pieces of plastic that ran on electricity. The furniture had a touch of elegance that could only be achieved after decades of proper care. Each sofa, armchair, table and lamp contained sloping lines and whimsically curved angles that coincided perfectly with the Victorian Era, in which they had been commissioned. If someone were to travel back in time and bring Miss Sofia Goodwin- the original owner of the Goodwin manor- to the present, she would see that nothing had been moved since her untimely death in 1853. It had become a sort of Goodwin tradition, keeping the manor the way it was inherited, after AnnMarie Goodwin, Sofia's eldest daughter, inherited it six months after her mother's death. The only exceptions were, of course, the bathrooms and bedrooms. Twyla couldn't fathom why the tradition continued, it wasn't like the smell of stale perfume and the stiffness of each seat was rather accommodating for visitors. Not to mention, the hideous floral patterns were enough to make a person want to go blind. But despite its stuffy aesthetic Twyla stayed in the room because it was the only room untouched by Luna's upcoming birthday celebration.

"She hasn't answered any of my texts or calls!"

Twyla scowled at her reflection in the window. In the past thirty minutes that she and her mother had returned to the manor, Celeste called Luna twenty-eight times and then preceded to call the entire town and let them know that her daughter was missing. Twyla didn't really understand what the whole fuss was about. Luna ran away after being told that a psychotic group of people, were dedicated to her extinction. It was quite clear to Twyla that her twin obviously had a death wish and who was Twyla to stop her? Her not caring, was really for Luna's benefit in the end.

"Relax," crooned Nana. She was unpacking her second box of jarred eyeballs, the green ones this time. She always looked apathetic, maybe that was because she no longer had any eyebrows or because her mouth now looked like one large wrinkle but in that moment she looked especially uncaring as her eldest child ranted.

"Relax? How do you expect me to relax while those things are out there with her!" Celeste bit her nails, destroying her recent manicure.

"Mother would have seen something if there was a problem," said Nyx. She was lounging on the faded pink sofa, beside Twyla's window, with a cosmopolitan magazine in hand.

"Anything can happen."

Nyx flipped through the pages of the magazine, staring disinterestedly at the rather average looking models who all seemed to have received the same cliche tips on posing. Elongate the neck, pop the hip and smize into the camera- it was something right from an episode of America's Next Top Model. Mortal modeling was just so uniform compared to the abstract and obscene images that floated around the supernatural community. And yet, she would much rather look through the magazine a hundred more times than start an argument with Celeste. That was a war she gave up fighting years ago.

"Nyx is right. If there would have been a problem, I would have seen," said Nana.

"You've said it yourself that they're hard to see. For years they've avoided being caught in your visions!"

Nana stopped counting for a brief second as her eyes narrowed into slits. Slipping the last jar of green eyeballs back into the box, she nudged it to the end of the table with her Raven headed cane and faced her eldest daughter. The two glared at each other as old hostilities arose to the surface. The words they would never say to each other were heard through the silence. The tension was quite unbearable. Nyx glanced between the two, taking a moment to assess the situation before quickly darting her eyes back to the page. Megan Fox suddenly became the most fascinating person in the world to her.

"I saw them come to New Orleans, didn't I? I saw them come here, both times, and I saw that poor boy die. If something happens, I will know. Until then, there's no point in worrying over something that hasn't happened."

"These are my children, mother. Their lives are in danger," Celeste stood six inches taller than her mother in her freshly polished Louboutin heels and yet she still felt small. "It doesn't matter that something might not happen now, but eventually they will attack. Sitting around and doing nothing isn't going to save their lives."

"And they are my grandchildren," Nana retorted. She placed one hand on top of the other as she clutched her cane tightly in front of her body. Stella Goodwin might have been pushing senile years and her beauty had fallen far from grace but she still retained the same regal demeanor that kept her in place as the head of the family. "I kept Twyla safe for six years. If only you had moved Luna, like I suggested, we wouldn't be in this situation. They knew where to find you Celeste, they're not dumb. They know who the girls are."

The conversation was not at all amusing to Twyla; she didn't particularly care about Luna but if she had to hear her family bring them up one more time without telling her who they were, she was going to scream. The entire family visit was more of a nightmare than she could ever have anticipated. She knew about them. Nana wasn't interested in keeping them a secret from her but she also wasn't interested in telling her more than a couple cryptic phrases. When she moved to Covington Twyla didn't actually feel comfortable leaving the house until she was fourteen and Nana had stopped saying that they were coming for her. It was frightening, living with the knowledge that someone out there in the world wanted to kill her or use her. Twyla never truly felt safe, not when those thoughts were fresh in her mind but there were moments where she could forget and find a semblance of peace.

There was one time in particular, that she remembered.
It was a school field trip, in freshman year. Her history class took a field trip to New Orleans, the week of Halloween, to learn about the local ghost stories. Most of the kids were quite bored after learning that ghosts were not at all like Casper and others went as far as to be offended by the idea that spirits did exist. Laurel stayed in front of the group asking as many questions as possible to the local 'witches' in hopes of openly debunking their stories. Twyla stood beside her for once, instead of lagging behind, but she wasn't interested in finding the holes in the women's stories- she already knew they were lying. No law-abiding witch would oust themselves to the public, even Nana and Aunt Nyx openly called themselves con-artists as a way to deceive customers and the Council Members. Twyla stood in front of the group and paid attention to the stories because she found them amusing. The women had no real magical talents but they had a phenomenal ability to lie and sound convincing- it was a shame they had no interest in acting. In one of their mystical shops, Twyla remembered holding back giggles as one of them ranted about seeing a six headed spirit at the Grand Canyon. She forgot all about them and her mother and sister as she reveled in the thought that she was the only person who knew the truth.

It was a shame she couldn't say that now.

"Would anyone mind telling me who they are? I mean, it's only right for me to know since they know who I am," argued Twyla but her statement was quickly ignored when Celeste's phone rang.

"Hello?" Celeste's hand moved at a lightening speed as she brought her gleaming, silver phone to her ear.

A jumble of words poured from the other side of the line. Twyla was too far away to make any sense of them, but from the way her mother's rigid posture deflated, she assumed it was good news. Well- good news for her mother.

"Oh thank you so much for telling me Mrs. Haverstock."

Haverstock. Now that was a name Twyla hadn't heard in years. She didn't know much about the Mrs. but she knew her son quite well. Little Billy was Luna's favorite sidekick. He was a small boy, made entirely from chicken bones, with tight, honey gold curls that made him look like the male Shirley Temple. He had a love affair with comic books, it went so far that in preschool, he used to tie his blanket- used for nap time- around his neck like a cape. Strange kid, thought Twyla, she couldn't imagine her sister still giving a nerd like him the time of day. That was, unless he still followed her around like a lovestruck puppy.

Mrs. Haverstock continued to speak on the other line. It sounded like she was rattling off a thousand words per second. Twyla watched as her mother nodded along politely, occasionally adding a hmm or strange, when appropriate. Her eyes darted to Twyla, for a brief second as the words on the other line died to silence.

"Uh, yes, she's home," Celeste reluctantly admitted.

Twyla blanched. They were talking about her, she realized. Her blood boiled as her magic awoke from its dormant state of slumber, it begged for her to release her inner tension but she remained still, with her hands balled into tight fists. Control- it was never easy but essential. Nothing good ever came from her releasing control of her inner demon, it was best to keep her magic on a short leash and her temper on an even shorter one.

"Oh Linda," Celeste released a shaky laugh, "This is her home. She's welcome to be here whenever she wants, without a reason. Now, I really must go but thank for letting me know that Luna just left your house."

An ache blossomed in Twyla's jaw as she grinded her teeth together. Welcomed at any time, that was certainly news to her. If only she had known that the day after she arrived in Covington, she would have hopped back on the plane and visited. There was vicious cycle of lies that Celeste and Luna lived with. Twyla could see it now, the two of them waking up in the morning, putting on their new masks and preparing a new set of lies to tell any who would listen. They made her sick to her stomach.

"Welcomed any time, you say?" Asked Twyla. Her voice turned sickeningly sweet as she taunted her mother. "You're right, actually, I mean I should be welcomed here. It is my home- didn't you say that?"

Celeste stared at the now black screen of her phone, afraid to took up at her daughter. The lie had tasted bitter on her tongue, even as she said it. There was some semblance of truth to that statement, Twyla was now allowed to be home but that hadn't been true in the past six years. And though Celeste thought her reasons were justified, she also knew that none of them mattered to Twyla. There was not enough time to start the process of forgiveness, not when she had much more important things, like her safety, to worry about. So, Celeste decided that she would accept her daughter's hatred for her. She would take every scathing remark and heated glare in stride, because, even though it hurt, it wasn't about her, it was about what was right for Luna and Twyla.

"Twyla." Nana's voice was sharp.

Pulling her eyes reluctantly away from her mother, Twyla glanced at Nana who was, undoubtedly waiting to scold her. But when Twyla met her grandmother's stare she was surprised that all hostility was vacant from her face.

Instead of reprimanding Twyla, she said, "Move these boxes to the cellar. Your sister will be arriving home shortly and after the day she's had, I don't think she needs another unpleasant surprise."

Freeing her fingers from the confines of her fists, she opened her palms and gestured to the three boxes lying on the table. The boxes gradually lifted in the air one by one and floated out of the room. But, they would not reach their destination. Just as the boxes reached the open cellar door, Luna barged into the house, her body was shaking. Her eyes scanned the darkened room, she was expecting one of them to be there waiting for her. A shriek fell from her lips as she saw three rectangular objects hovering by the basement door. The objects fell as soon as she screamed. Turning to the side of the door, she grabbed onto the brass sconce and flipped on the lights. To her extreme relief the objects were only cardboard boxes.

"Oh thank god. you're alright!" Her mother's soft, feminine voice touched her ears as she was pulled into her embrace.

Standing in the doorway of the parlor, she noticed three women. The first was Twyla, with a frown tugging at her black painted lips, her arms crossed over her Rolling Stones band tee. Beside her stood a woman whose age was not easily detectable, her curves were generous but her angular face retained an aristocratic beauty that left her ageless. Her hair was kept short in disarrayed bob, the the ends each dipped in a new color. Her hair looked a lot like the paint splattered jeans and black tear shirt that she wore. Luna assumed that she was the sister her mother spoke very little about, and when she did it usually involved a curse. Beside Nyx, as her mother had called her, stood frail looking old woman, whose face was heavily marred by wrinkles and the occasional wart. She looked like a witch, Luna thought upon seeing her. And she was her Grandmother.

"Alright, isn't exactly how I would put it," said Luna. She pushed her way past her mother and bounded up the stairs.

"Luna wait!" Called her mother, "What happened?"

Luna froze mid-step. All previous thoughts about hiding under her bed took a seat in the back of her mind as she turned and glared at her mother. "What happened? Oh I'll tell you what happened! First, I awoke from a horrifying nightmare, only to realize that it was some freaky version of the future that would eventually unfold. Then, I found out I could hear voices in my mind. Not the schizophrenic type, no that would be too normal, but the voices that only belonged to other people's thoughts. To go a step further, I then fried my principal's brain and then, when I thought the day couldn't get any worse I found out that my long lost twin, who I thought had killed my friend and father, came back to visit. It was a great family reunion! I learned a lot, turns out my twin didn't kill anyone, she's just a mythical creature and so am I but nobody could know that because we're being hunted by some unknown force! The same unknown force who followed me to my boyfriend's house and gave me this cryptic message: I'm coming for you. That's what happened mom, it's been a great birthday eve!"

Horror struck Celeste. They had spoke to her. That shouldn't have been possible, her mother-

"I thought you said you would have seen if something happened," Celeste hissed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother shrug. "I saw it. I just didn't feel like telling you. Luna wasn't going to be harmed but you still would have freaked out. I will say this only one more time, you can't protect them forever Celeste. This is beyond all of us."

Luna fled up the stairs before she could hear another word. Twyla followed, equally uninterested in hearing the three women bicker. She was tired of the non-answers and lies. There was nothing legal that she could do to get them to tell her the truth, and wondering just added to her stress. When Twyla reached the top of the stairs, she was surprised to see Luna leaning against the railing, waiting for her. Twyla raised a brow, questioning her motive but Luna said nothing. The two walked beside each other in silence until they reached the door to the attic. Twyla stood still, afraid to even get near the door.

"I'm not going to lock you in there," said Luna, "I think we both know you could get out whenever you want."

"Then why are we here?"

"I like to go here for some alone time."

"The attic?" Twyla asked. She couldn't see why anyone would wish to seek out such a horrid place.

"No. Not the attic."

Luna said nothing else as she flung the door open, and slipped into the narrow passage. Swallowing the lump that appeared in her throat, Twyla willed her quivering hands to still and hesitantly stepped forward. When the door did not close shut behind her, she continued up the stairs. The attic was completely empty, her bedroom furniture had all been shipped down to Covington a week after she was exiled. It looked even more so like a prison cell, with the exposed wooden beams and creaky floorboards. The cobwebs had returned in the years she left, as did the bugs. Luna stood beside the large, slanted window, her arms shook as she tried to pry it open. Slipping her fingers under the rusted metal, Twyla helped her sister peel the window back. A gust of wind, ruffled their hair as the two stood in front of the endless night sky.

"What are you doing?" Asked Twyla as Luna crawled out the window and sat on the roof.

"It's nicer out here," Luna responded. The rain stopped and for the first time all day, the sky cleared, revealing clusters of stars that sparkled in the sky. The moon sat in middle of the largest cluster, it looked like a silver dime from Luna's position. "I like to come out here at nighttime. It's a lot better than staring at a white ceiling, when I can't sleep."

At an agonizingly slow pace, Twyla swung her leg over the window sill and sat beside Luna. After fidgeting for a second, she finally decided to rest her hands in her lap and then looked up at the night sky. The stars, looked the same in the sky as they did when her mother created the 3D model in her office. It was the one constant in her life; she knew back in Covington, that Laurel would be looking at the same stars as she was. A tingling sensation ran down her arms as Luna shifted, it was weird being in the same state at Luna, let alone the same resting spot.

"Why did you ask me to follow you?" Twyla asked sharply. She then added, "you hate me," as if Luna needed to be reminded.

Luna sighed. "I don't hate you."

Shocked, Twyla struggled to find her tongue for a second before asking Luna, "When did you decide this?"

"On the drive home. You'd be surprise what you realize when you're scared out of your mind, thinking some magical psycho is about to kill you."

"Oh."

"Don't get me wrong," said Luna. She peaked at Twyla through the corner of her eye, not at all surprised to see her sister gaping at her. "I don't like you and I don't want you here. But I have no real reason to hate you, you're not some freaky, devil child. You didn't kill dad or Tommy. Your reputation ruined my social life as a kid and probably will once again but I'm not sure if that was ever really your fault. My whole life I've ever really only known two things and one of them was that I hated you but now- well- now I've realized I don't know much of anything."

Bowing her head to her knees, Luna allowed a stray tear to trace a wet path down her cheek. A world that once made sense was left completely strange to her. Her crippling fear of her sister was replaced by her fear of those who lingered in the shadows. Twyla wasn't the villain of her story, not anymore, just another victim.

"How did you do it?" Luna's voice cracked. "How did you learn to control it or even accept it?"

Something cold nudged Luna's exposed arm, looking up from her knees she saw that Twyla held two canned beers. Without thinking twice, Luna grabbed the cold beverage, popped the seal and took a gulp. She cringed at the bitter taste. Beer, though it was a good form of liquid courage, often tasted like dog piss. She didn't bother to ask Twyla where she got the cans and Twyla didn't offer an explanation.

"Accepting was the easy part. I was a kid when mom first explained the basic concepts of magic to me, and at the time I thought it was pretty cool. It's kind of like riding a bike, first it's scary and hard maneuver but then it becomes like second nature." Twyla tipped her head back as she took a swig from the beer. "Control was harder. I'm sure you witnessed today, that I still have a problem with control. And being some extra powerful twin witch, doesn't seem to help."

"And what about t-them? How did you handle that?"

"I didn't, and I still haven't. Let me give you some advice-"

"Why?" Luna furrowed her brows. Her head was feeling woozy from all the beer she consumed in less than five minutes and yet, it wasn't nearly enough alcohol for her to get through the night. "You hate me."

"I do," Twyla agreed, "But whether we'd like to admit it or not we're kind of in this together. Now as for the advice, don't ask questions. Don't try to get them to talk, because as I've learned it gets you nowhere. And even when they do respond, it only leaves you with more questions."

"They can't hide this from us forever! We deserve to know, it's our lives that are on the line."

Twyla shook her head. She took one last gulp of beer before crushing the can. The can then, disappeared in thin air. "Luna, you had a panic attack and ran away after learning the information they trusted us with! What do you think will happen if we uncover one of the secrets, they don't think we can handle?"

That was a fair point, Luna admitted. There was a very good chance whatever truth awaited for her would be unacceptable to her fragile mind- however there was an even greater chance that she would drive herself insane with the possibilities. It was her life and technically those secrets belonged to her, she deserved to know.

"I can't start accepting this whole witch thing until I understand it all. You're right, I might not be able to handle the truth but I no- we- deserve to know. Listen, I'll give you what you want, after tomorrow I'll help you get out of here but I need to know what they're keeping from us."

Twyla knew full well that the answers Luna desired would not be found, at least not if their mother has a say. And a part of her, though she questioned her family several times, didn't actually want to know the full narrative. There must have been a reason why they chose to hide such important pieces of information. But there was also a much larger part of her who agreed with her sister. It was their right to know.

Deal?" Luna didn't offer each other a hand, simply agreeing verbally was enough for the two of them.

"Deal," said Twyla.

**Happy Easter everyone! I hope you liked the chapter. Luna and Twyla are not friends, not even close but at least they're on the same side. Please tell me what you guys thought of the chapter and what do you think will happen next, when the girls share their first birthday in years.
XOXO,
Ro.**