The repugnant smell of cigarette smoke and regurgitated alcohol filled the tiny pub. Twyla sat in a small booth, with her eyes glued to the mahogany table. It was Sunday night and the bar was overflowing with drunk men who had nothing better to do. Several of them casted lecherous looks her way but nobody got up to talk to her. She was tall, with subtle curves hiding underneath her ratty jeans and leather jacket. Her ebony curls cascaded past her shoulders. She wasn't a traditional beauty, her features were too sharp but that didn't stop men from flocking to her side. What did stop men, was the dangerous aura surrounding her.

It was silly, many of them thought, she was just a girl. What harm could she do? But even with those thoughts in mind none of them dared to approach her and Twyla was fine with that.

The tiny bell that rested above the shop's door, chimed as Laurel walked in. She casted the group at the bar and sneaky glance before quickly scurrying over to the table she spotted Twyla at. Twyla gave her friend a tiny nod in acknowledgement before throwing one of the menus her way. Boisterous laughter spilled from the bar as one of the patrons fell after one too many mugs of beer. Laurel tensed, stealing a small look at the men before returning her attention to Twyla. Thirty minutes ago, Laurel had been lying on her bed in a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater- reading Wuthering Heights for the eighth time when she received a text from Twyla. Twyla didn't say much, she never did, the text only contained the address of the pub and two words: come now. She expected that Twyla had something important to tell her, or else she wouldn't have drawn her away from her favorite book but as she continued to stare at her raven haired comrade- it dawned on Laurel that Twyla might have just been looking for some company.

"Why are you staring at me?" Twyla's eyes never strayed from the lamented menu.

"I-I had assumed there was something you wanted to talk about?" Laurel prodded.

Cocking an eyebrow, Twyla still kept her attention trained on the savory options of sirloin steak, double stacked bacon burgers, and barbecue bathed ribs. The pub wasn't exactly vegetarian friendly or people friendly in general. It was the kind of hole-in-the-wall restaurant that was favored in the south. Nobody in the pub, except for Laurel, intended to go there- they just happened to stumble upon it and stay for the booze and hearty meals.

"You assumed?" Twyla asked.

"Well I just thought with how spontaneous your text was that something had happened."

"Aren't I normally spontaneous?" Twyla asked.

Flustered, Laurel stuttered, "Well- I mean, yes you are but-"

"But you're right," Twyla interrupted. Pushing her menu to the side and she finally settled her silver stare on Laurel.

"I am?" Laurel spluttered.

Blowing a curled strand of hair out of her face, Laurel crossed her arms over her chest and furrowed her brows. The pouring rain had turned her mane of of twisting whisky colored locks into one big ball of frizz. She was already annoyed with the blasted weather, the Louisiana sky could never decide whether it wanted to rain or shine- but now she found her aggravation growing as she looked at Twyla.

Nodding, Twyla explained, "You are. I've got a bad feeling Laurel. Normally, I'm not the kind of person to trust their gut but there are some things going on that I can't ignore."

Laurel shook her head. Twyla was talking in circles and though Laurel prided herself in being a smart girl, she could never understand Twyla when started talking in riddles. "I don't understand, Twy. You're going to have to explain."

The leather seat squeaked underneath Twyla's body as she fidgeted. She wanted to explain it to Laurel but had no idea how, she didn't even understand what was going on herself. All she knew was that her Nana and Aunt were up to something, something that was so bad they couldn't even give her an inkling of a clue. The hushed whispers and secretive glances were driving her crazy! She didn't have Nana's power to see the future and when she tried to call Alix it went straight voice mail- she was left completely blind-sided.

"Aunt Nyx and Nana are acting weird. I don't know what to do."

Laurel quirked a brow, "That's not new, being weird is their thing."

The Goodwin family were notorious in Covington for keeping up the mystical act that was glorified in Louisiana. Stella Goodwin, Twyla's Nana, ran a voodoo and card reading business in the basement of their Victorian manor while Nyx specialized in optical illusions for parties. The Goodwin women would never be spotted at church on Sunday, nor did they make any appearances at the neighborhood block parties. One might spot Twyla ghosting around the halls of Covington High but the townspeople never saw her out in the town- at least not during the day or without the company of Laurel. Nighttime was a completely different ordeal. There had been strange occurrences when people had thought they saw Twyla venturing down the deserted sidewalks but when those people would take a second look- they would find that she was gone. It was in those eerie and unexplainable moments did the Goodwin women live up to the reputation of being completely and irrevocably weird.

"I mean more than usual," Twyla sighed.

Though the cryptic whispers and lingering stares were enough to raise suspicion, Twyla didn't actually start to worry until earlier today when Nana sent her an errand to Ms. Meabe's pawn shop.

Ms. Meabe's pawn shop, was a slanted, eroded brick building built in the nineteenth century. In the height of it's day it had been a popular print shop, owned by a local newspaper. But as time moved on and the people of New Orleans became more interested with metal framework and shiny glass windows, the little brick building was abandoned for steel skyscrapers. If not for Ms. Meabe, the building would have gone another hundred years without use until someone finally tore it down. Most people passed by the shop twice a day- but their attention was otherwise captivated by the razor slim phones in their hands. So Ms. Meabe's customers usually consisted of those who only came to the shop because the weather had abruptly turned stormy. The others, of course, came to die.

Twyla didn't fit in either of those categories. That morning when she entered Ms. Meabe's pawn shop, the sky was clear and the sun was blazing. And though she wasn't particularly fond of life, she was too stubborn to die.

Walking through the shop, she glanced disinterestedly at the cluttered display cases. Small white cards with outrageous prices inscribed on them, sat in front of rusted metal objects that looked like they belonged in junk yards. Her shoulders were tense, hands stuffed in the pockets of her ripped jeans. The metal ring in her lip was being toyed with her tongue. Behind the beaded curtain, Ms. Meabe watched her. At that moment, she didn't know who Twyla was- only that was indeed very special. When Twyla froze mid-step, her senses alert that someone was watching her, Ms. Meabe decided to make herself known.

"Welcome! Welcome! Is there anything you're looking for, darling?" Ms. Meabe asked in a kind but withered voice.

Twyla spun around, her fists curled in her pockets. The objects in the display case rattled. Her lips twisted in her sneer as she stared at the short and plump, elderly woman- she wasn't fond of being spied on.

"I was looking for a Madam Lucinda Meabe," Twyla said in a chilled voice as she approached the counter.

Ms. Meabe narrowed her eyes and reached into her pocket. "Who's asking," her voice differed from the sweet old lady who had welcomed Twyla a few seconds ago.

If Nana hadn't asked very politely for Twyla to be on her best behavior, she would have thrown the woman out the window with a wrinkle of her nose. But Nana had asked for her to be nice. Apparently, she knew Madam Meabe quite well and she was holding something important to the Goodwin's. Twyla had asked numerous times why Nana couldn't have just gotten it herself but she simply brushed her off. Nana was good at that, brushing Twyla off. Or giving her annoyingly cryptic responses that kept her up at night. Twyla discovered that was one of the many disadvantages to living with a psychic. Unless drunk, they spoke fluent lies and eerie phrases.

"Twyla Goodwin," She barely resisted the urge to make a snarky remark.

Ms. Meabe's eyes lit up in recognition as she looked at Twyla in a new light. The rugged, misfit teen with long ebony curls and silver eyes looked startlingly similar to a young woman Ms. Meabe had known. The Goodwin name alone, was hard to forget but the resemblance was so uncanny Ms. Meabe found herself questioning Twyla to protect her sanity.

"Are you, by any chance, related to Nyx and Stella Goodwin?"

The look in Ms. Meabe's eye made Twyla's stomach twist into knots. It was the kind of look one gave when they see a ghost. A mixture of pure unadulterated fear and wonder. Not wanting the old woman to go off on a tangent about the Goodwin family and their magical legacy, Twyla simply nodded. A verbal response would only lead to more questions.

"Oh my," Ms. Meabe gasped. She raised a trembling hand and touched her lips.

Before the old woman could weird Twyla out any more, she decided to cut to chase. Daylight hours were dwindling and she had plans for the evening. Today was her last day before she was a legal adult, after all.

"I was sent to pick up an item you were holding onto for my grandmother?"

Grandmother, Ms. Meabe noted to herself. That did make sense, she had only seen Stella a few years ago and back then she didn't have a child with her. And Nyx, her daughter, never stayed in any man's company long enough for a child, even an accident, to be created. The other daughter, however, was married to some guy up in Virginia. Ms. Meabe never thought much of Nyx's sister, Celeste. Apparently the poor girl had never been very good at magic, and practically rejected all of her family's traditions. Many witches were devastated to hear that the Goodwin Manor, a place founded on sacred ground- fit for one of the strongest family of magicians, was lost to powerless witch and her mortal family. Though Nyx was a notoriously reckless and irresponsible, she was famous in the supernatural community for her detailed illusions. She was a real Goodwin witch.

"Ah yes," Ms. Meabe nodded absentmindedly. She was still staring at Twyla, never blinking or glancing momentarily at anything else. "The necklaces. I was wondering when she would like them back."

Standing in front of the counter silently, Twyla rocked on the balls of her feet as Ms. Meabe stopped her creepy staring contest to search for the necklaces. Why Nana wanted her to tread across town for necklaces was beyond Twyla. There were several jewelry vendors in the area that could sell them ten necklaces for three dollars. The jewelry might look cheap and some might be falling apart but at least they'd be getting them for a bargain. And bargains, despite possible unforeseen consequences, were worth gold in pricey cities like New Orleans. Ms. Meabe rummaged through the piles of junk in display case and hummed a tune that was foreign to Twyla's millennial ears.

"Here they are!" Ms. Meabe exclaimed, forgetting all about the old melody.

"Mhmn," Twyla folded her arms across her chest. For some unexplainable reason, the old lady set her on edge.

"Has your grandmother told you who these are for?" Ms. Meabe inquired as she slid over to the register, with the necklaces in hand.

Two crescent moons, one accented with a sapphire gem the other with a ruby, hung off of intertwined silver chains. They looked like they belonged in Tiffany's rather than a run down pawn shop. Twyla wasn't one to judge, she often found herself enjoying the rundown, cheap places in Covington compared to the exclusive and very expensive upscale places in New Orleans but even she had to wonder- out of all the places why did Nana give Ms. Meabe the necklace.

"She didn't tell me that I was even picking up necklaces," Twyla responded in a grunt.

Against her better judgement, she was becoming increasingly curious about the necklaces. There seemed to some sort of mystery surrounding them. To her, it almost seemed as if Nana had given Ms. Meabe the necklaces to hide. But why Nana would want to hide jewelry was beyond her. They weren't exactly rich- nobody was going to rob them. Twyla only had five bucks and a Froyo punch card on her. And before she had stumbled upon the five dollars while walking to the pawn shop, she had no money. As for who the necklaces were specifically for, she couldn't care less. Nana was a collector of many strange, mystical objects. The necklaces would coordinate well with her other astronomy based jewelry.

"Stella never was one to indulge on details, wasn't she?" Ms. Meabe muttered the question to more so to herself than Twyla.

"She never says more than what is needed," Twyla shrugged.

Grabbing a box from under the counter, Ms. Meabe untangled the moons and neatly placed them one on top of the other. She placed a piece of black tissue paper on top, as if Twyla were buying a piece of china from Hallmark. She slid the box across the glass countertop and gave Twyla another kind smile. A shudder ran through Twyla as she spared the creepy old woman a final glance before pocketing the box in her jacket.

"Do I need to pay you?" She questioned when she realized Ms. Meabe had resumed the one way staring contest.

Ms. Meabe let out a short cackle and mused, "You poor thing, she hasn't told you anything. The necklace belongs to your family, been around since the dawn of time. Or at least since the dawn of witches. I was just holding on to it for safekeeping."

Twyla narrowed her eyes, "Safekeeping from who?"

There was a long pause before Ms. Meabe answered, her eyes flickered from Twyla to the rest of the shop.

"Them," Ms. Meabe said. But she didn't point anyone out and she didn't need to. Twyla already had an inkling who she was talking about.

A bell rang on the other adore of the beaded curtain and Ms. Meabe jolted.

"Isn't business just booming today?" She forced out a laugh. "I'm glad, I could get those necklaces back into Goodwin hands. Tell your Grandmother, I said hello."

Before Twyla could even utter a goodbye, Ms. Meabe spun around and disappeared behind the curtain.

"Do you have the necklaces on you?" Laurel asked once Twyla was done recounting what had happened at the pawn shop. She was very careful to leave out any magical details.

Heat flared in the pocket of her leather jacket, as if the necklaces knew Laurel had mentioned them. Without thinking twice, Twyla reached into her pocket and placed the small black box on the table. Snatching her hand back, before her impulses could take over again, Twyla forced herself not to open the box. The curiosity, or whatever had possessed her, was not going to win. Curiosity only ever got her into trouble.

"You look scared Twy," Laurel giggled, "It's just a jewelry box."

Just as she finished her statement the box began to convulse on the table. Twyla and Laurel looked at each other, their eyes wide with shock- neither could believe what was happening in front of them. Twyla had been around many moving inanimate objects in her life but most of those incidents were her fault, the box, however, was moving on its own accord. Pushing her fear to the side, Twyla reached out to grab it but Laurel slapped her hand away.

"What are you doing! That thing is shaking like the Tasmanian devil!"

"Ms. Meabe, probably slipped something else in there by accident," Twyla lied.

She told herself her actions were fueled by the simple fact that she wanted to prove Laurel wrong, but there was a niggling feeling in the back of her mind. It tempted her with forbidden questions that pulled out her basic instincts as human. Though Twyla would never admit it, her shaking fingers were pulling the box top off because of her own, stupid, curiosity not her need to be right. Laurel watched from across the table, her back was pressed as far from Twyla as the booth allowed- she tried to look away but her eyes betrayed her and slid over to the now open box.

"What in the world!" Laurel breathed. The box top had fallen onto the mahogany table with a clatter, as Twyla stared down at the necklaces- the ruby necklace in particular had her entranced as it glowed.

"It's glowing!" Laurel exclaimed as she watched light pour out of the gem and illuminate her best friend's face.

Sitting rigid in her seat, Twyla kept her eyes trained on the pulsating ruby as it took her mind a thousand years back in time. She saw flashes of bronzed skin, women in togas, holding grapes on a golden dish and men in metal armor wielding masterfully crafted swords as blood from their foes splattered their faces. She watched as marble columns transformed into iron spires, and the coverage of clothing expanded to all parts of the body as the people carefully cradled battered bibles in their hands. A never ending war of human prejudice began and though treaties were eventually signed the lives lost and scars created would never be forgotten nor forgiven. Clothing changed again and again, science was being founded on more stable principles than just philosophies and the power that was once seen as a human right was once again granted to most people. Twyla watched, helpless as a millennium of heartbreak and death flashed before her eyes- the people around her kept changing but the crescent necklace that hung around her neck stayed the same.

"Twyla!" Laurel frightened voice pulled Twyla out of her retrieve.

Quickly grabbing the box top off of the table, she covered the necklaces and shoved it in her pocket. Her mind was rattled by the images she had just seen, it had been too fast for her mind to make any sense but there was a small part of her that seemed to recognize it all As if they weren't just crazy illusions created by a magical necklace, but actual memories. The mere thought of that threatened to bring her mind to the edge of insanity.

"I have to go," Twyla stood up.

"We didn't even eat!" Laurel called after her but Twyla was already sprinting to the door.

Throwing open the pub's door, Twyla stumbled onto the sidewalk, clutching her head as pain blossomed in her temples. Downtown Covington had never been the cleanest place on earth, and the smells were unsettling to her stomach, but she was happy to be back on the streets where there was semi-fresh air compared to the pub. Neon signs and bright headlights illuminated every inch of the urban part of town. Cars whizzed by, spraying exhaust and mud everywhere. Twyla shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and kept her eyes focused on the pavement.

Something terrible was happening, she knew that much, but her sixth sense refused to reveal anymore details.

Hopping onto her precious bike, Twyla reveled in the feel of the cool leather handles beneath her calloused fingers. The bike, was one of the few normal things she cherished and perhaps the last. Kicking up the side stand, Twyla popped the keys into the ignition and revved the engine. The gentle purr of the bike usually lulled her into a state of content but that night Twyla knew she would not be feeling content again in a long time- at least not while the necklaces continued to burn a hole in her pocket. Pulling out of the parking lot, Twyla whizzed down the freeway, she knew there would be hell to pay tomorrow for abandoning Laurel like that but there were more important things monopolizing her mind. Laurel would be fine in the morning but Twyla was unsure if after she talked to Nana, if she would be. Questions only ever brought on more questions, that wasn't a philosophy that was a solidified fact and yet, even with that in mind, Twyla didn't stop. She needed to understand.

A car, Twyla didn't recognize was waiting in the driveway when she arrived home. She didn't think twice about the mysterious vehicle, instead she chalked it up to being one of Nyx's late night visitors and bounded up the stairs. The annoyingly, high-pitched voice of Teresa Niro, a Fae who hosted a late night talk show, greeted her as she opened the door. Niro was just as bad as the mortal talk show hosts, if not worse. Her high ratings were based solely off of the fact that she had a body that put Gigi Hadid to shame and that she managed to be the only Fae who could twist the truth until it was a complete and utter lie. Twyla and Nana hated the women with a passion but Nyx insisted on watching it for the mediocre comedy and gossip.

"Aunt Nyx? Nana?" Twyla called. She slammed the door behind her, knowing how that that drove Nana insane.

"In the kitchen," Nyx called back.

Shrugging off her jacket, Twyla pulled the box out of her pocket and ventured over to the kitchen. With every step she took, her stomach twisted and churned until she had the overwhelming urge to vomit. Slamming the door, usually earned her a lecture from both of her guardians, especially if they had guests over, but Nyx mentioned nothing. Her tone had been calm, apathetic and absolutely terrifying. When she reached the kitchen doorway, and saw Nyx fully dressed in a pair of paint splatter jeans and buttoned jacket- without a man on her arm or a beer in hand- her fears were confirmed. Something was very wrong. Nana was sitting in her prized mahogany chair, the one with the red velvet cushion. The stiff black coat she was wearing, was almost as somber looking as her own haggard face. Though the room still retained its cheery blue and yellow paint colors, there was a strained tension floating in the air.

"I saw there was a car in the driveway. Do you have someone over?" Twyla asked, trying helplessly to break the silence.

Nyx looked up, surprised. "Hmm? Oh no, that's just a rental."

A rental, Twyla thought, why on earth would her aunt need a black SUV? Nana spared the two girls a curious glance, her lips were set in a hard line. The deep frown lines that ran down the sides of her mouth, only furrowed deeper as the seconds passed.

"Did you get the package?" Nana asked.

"I did," Twyla snapped out of her brief moment of disturbance and remembered why she had rushed home in the first place. "Actually, I need to talk to you about that. The necklace-"

The buzzing of a cell phone cut her off. Nyx pulled out her phone. The blood in her face drained, her eyes widened and her hand had to reach out and grab the counter to prevent her from falling. Twyla reached out, wanting to help her aunt but Nyx shrugged her off. That stung. Nyx was the older sister Twyla always wanted and would never have. Her own sister was more of a wicked witch than she would ever be and little Luna didn't even have an magic. It was a sad fate the poor, narrow minded child had inadvertently inherited from their mother. Twyla was happy to trade Luna for Nyx, even if Nyx had just brushed her off. It would be to soon if Twyla ever saw her sister or mother again.

"Who was that? A hot date?" Twyla threw the box of necklaces onto the table, causing both Nyx and Nana to cringe.

"No," said Nyx. Her eyes darted over to Nana, almost pleadingly.

Nana sighed. Pulling her silver eagle headed cane, out from under the folds over her coat, she stood wearily onto her feet and and reluctantly turned to Twyla. The knot in Twyla's stomach pulled itself a little tighter as Nana opened her mouth to speak. She had no way of knowing what Nana would say but not even her wildest theory came close to the truth.

"What's going on?" Twyla asked again. Her voice quaked, revealing the small part of the terrified little girl that still resided within her.

"Your mother, Twyla."

Twyla's eyes went wide, her mouth hung slack. She was frozen in place as the blood in her veins turned to ice. Celeste Goodwin, the woman Twyla once loved with all of her heart was now the monster in her nightmares. She was the demon who locked her in the attic and the monster who didn't care enough to keep her home. Celeste had always loved Luna more. Twyla knew that. Their father knew that. In fact, all of New Brooks knew that. And when it came down to protecting Luna from magic or giving Twyla the love she needed, she chose Luna. And she would time after time again. It had taken Twyla a good year to come terms with that knowledge but when she finally did, she hated her mother.

"She sent the car," Nana said, "Your mother wants you to come back home."

"N-no," Twyla began to shake. "I won't. She sent me away! She doesn't get to tell me what to do."

Nana shook her head, "This wasn't an option Twyla. You're going home, we all are."

Claustrophobia crept out of the confines of her mind, as she remembered the endless years trapped between the attic walls. Nobody could help her because nobody wanted to. She was the bad omen, the villain and people just couldn't be bothered with that. A feeling of absolute vulnerability washed over Twyla. Vaguely, she could hear the shouting of her Aunt and Nana over the echo of her heart beat but none of their words of calming were able to quiet her fears. It was in that moment, feeling betrayed and scared, that Twyla Goodwin snapped. Glass cups and plates fell from the cupboards and shattered on the floor, the windows blew out and the walls screamed as they threatened to fall in on themselves. Tomorrow, when the house was nothing more than a pile of rubble on the floor the News reporters would claim there was a mini-earthquake and happily remark that there were no casualties or lives lost but that's not true. The life Twyla had made for herself was lost forever.

**Dun Dun Dun. I hope you guys liked that chapter, we're finally getting more mystery here and Twyla is going back home! Not exactly exciting for her but it's exciting for me because I can't wait to write a parent trap scene. Both sides are developing more and more as the chapters continue. Luna is coming into her powers and Twyla seems to be unlocking strange memories from even stranger pieces of jewelry. There's really only three more chapters until their lives get turned around and I'm excited for it, I feel like these two can definitely become a pretty badass pair, as long as they don't kill each other first. It's pretty obvious they both hate each other with a passion right now. I hope you guys liked the chapter. And what do your guys think about Ms. Meabe and the necklaces. Also what do you think will happen when Twyla and Luna finally come face to face after six years of pretending that the one does not exist?

Thank you guys for all the love and support!
XOXO,
Ro.**