“LADY, I DON’T KNOW YOU.” Said Santiago.

“I’m Rosenia, you can call me Rose.” She patted the empty space next to her, “You have a lot of questions, perhaps I can answer some of them.”

A part of him wondered if he was still asleep in the hospital. If he had been dreaming, he wasn’t sure it would be quite like this.

Santiago eased into the space beside her, brows pulled together tightly. “Is this some kind of psyche ward?”

Rose cackled, “We might be a little crazy here but no this isn’t any formal institution. This is Coventry.” She made a sweeping motion out towards the veranda vines wound their way along the wood balustrades. “This is a safe haven for those who have no other place to go.”

“I do have a place to go.” Santiago bristled. “I appreciate you inviting me into your home, but it is not mine.”

He was halfway down the stone pathway, when she called from behind him. “You put over a dozen people in the hospital a week ago. How long before you put someone in the grave?”

Santiago stopped.

The all consuming flames resurfaced vividly in his mind. He remembered everything in perfect clarity, yet the memories did not feel like his own.

Rose watched him solemnly from her seat, “There is power inside you Santiago. If you do not learn how to control it, it will consume you and everything else around you. I know you felt it, the fire inside.”

Metal bent under his palms as though it were cheap plastic. Cacophonous screaming echoed in his mind and rusting copper filled his senses.

“How do I get rid of it?” He said.

“There are ways. First you must learn control. How to stop fanning those flames.”

He was not sure if he trusted this lady or not. Regardless, she had a point. It was not the matter of if, it was the matter of when. He could not expect that it would simply go away.

“I do this. I get a handle on this whatever, I get to go home.”

She nodded.

“No more group homes, therapists, or caseworkers.”

“As long as you keep your nose clean, yes. You have my word there will be no more hoops for you to jump through.” Rosenia smiled.

“I’m in.”

“Very good, tomorrow you will meet the others.”

Fantastic, he thought.

Out of one house for rejects and right into another. All that mattered to him was going home, he would not stay long enough to entertain the idea of bonding. This was just one more hurdle before he crossed the finish line.

----------------------------------------

Thompson took a deep breath in as the boy's footsteps came down the steps. This next conversation was crucial for the next steps towards Santiago’s well-being and future. The boy's trust in him had no doubt been shaken after his sudden displacement.

Thompson was not so big of a man that he could not admit fault in the hasty decision. He let his own emotions get the better of him with what he witnessed that night.

Santiago paused in the doorway, his pace slowed as he settled on the couch across from Thompson. He said nothing, his face an expressionless mask.

Thompson knew it was on himself to set the tone. This was his mess after all. Bennett made that clear.

Bennett chewing him out over the phone was nothing compared to when he cornered him at work. Berating him for claiming to be a godly man and spurning a child in need because of his own fears.

Bennett was right.

Thompson had prayed on it. Went to confession to seek the counseling of his priest. Ultimately, he came to understand that this was his crucible to guide the boy through the darkness that surrounded him and for better or worse see him through to the otherside.

“Santiago, I came here to discuss your new living situation. It's important that we find a safe and supportive environment for you to grow and learn. Especially considering your new found powers.” Thompson said.

He paused pointedly to see if the boy would respond. Santiago simply watched him behind hooded eyes.

“We have two options at the moment.” Thompson continued. “The first is placing you here, in a foster home under the guardianship of Rosenia. She is a pillar of the community and well-versed in magic. She can provide guidance and help you understand and control your abilities. Having someone like her who can support you on this new journey is going to be an invaluable resource.”

Thompson’s voice wavered slightly as he mentioned the second option. “The second, Santiago, is Juvenile hall. Given your past violent behavior that is where the system would likely place you. However, there is one alternative.”

Santiago straightened up, his lips pulled into a frown as he waited.

“If you were capable of emancipating yourself, that is, proving you can hold down a job and stay out of trouble, you might be able to avoid juvenile hall.”

That was it. The light flickered behind those dark eyes.

This was something that enticed the boy beyond measure. Emancipation. Freedom.

If he could get legally emancipated there were no more hoops to jump through. Santiago could decide for himself where he would go and what he could do.

“How much longer? I’m gonna age out of this bullshit by next year..”

“Given the circumstances I will fast-track this as much as possible. You will need to resume high school. Obtain and maintain a legal form of employment.”

Santiago scoffed. “So what qualifies as legal? Like I gotta punch a clock or say I started like an Etsy shop would that count?”

“As long as you can provide official documentation of income that is sufficient by the court standards then, yes. An Etsy shop could work.” Thompson said.

“Done deal.” Santiago said.

Stolen story; please report.

The confidence with which the boy stated concerned Thompson. The boy was smart. Too smart for his own good at times.

“I’m here to support you.” Thompson said, “We’ll work together to navigate this challenging situation. If you need anything at all don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Santiago nodded.

“Alright, now there is a class Rosenia is hosting today in the garden. You should attend, I think it would be a good entry point for you into all of this.” Thompson gestured toward the back of the home, “There is also a community event coming—”

Thompson rose from his seat and Santiago waved him off. “I know where to go. I got it from here.”

With that the boy left Thompson alone in the parlor with only the tick of grandfather clock to accompany him.

A maze of flower beds with a riot of colors. Roses in every shade imaginable pink, red, yellow the fragrant blooms wafted through the air. Delicate tulips stood tall in elegant clusters, showcasing hues of purple, white, and orange. Dainty daisies and cheerful sunflowers added a touch of whimsy and cheerfulness to the scene.

Rosenia sat on a stone bench in the garden before her were a few fold out chairs where a few other kids sat.

Their gazes turned to Santiago when he approached.

He shot back dour glare.

“Santiago, nice of you to finally join us.”

He plopped into the vacant seat one arm hanging over the back. “What did I miss?”

“Maybe show up on time and you wouldn’t have to ask.” Mia sniped from the end of the row, arms crossed. Her cherubian features belied her harsh tongue. Glossy waves of fiery copper brushed her broad shoulders.

Santiago eyed the girl, “Listen here ginger minge don’t start with me.”

She gaped, “You ass!”

The girl a few seats down doubled over cackling unapologetically loud. Her chains jingled against the knees of her ripped jeans. Messy shorn tresses dyed a blend of cotton candy pink and blue. Lovely navy eyes and smudged black eyeliner watched him with an impish grin.

“That’s enough.” Rosenia motioned for them to settle, “Remember Mia to get respect we must give it. Santiago, let's try not to be so vulgar.”

He shrugged.

Mia fumed.

Her stare tried to bore a hole through the back of his head. He refused to give her the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

“All of you share a common thread. Ignis. For those who have awakened their fire they understand why it is referred to as such.”

Santiago recalled the feelings as he raged.

“Now these powers are capable of so much more than conjuring flame so do not let the names deceive you. These terms are the ones that my family has always used to recognize the power of others.” Rosenia paused, “Do any of you know how someone gains the ability to utilize this power?”

Mia’s hand shot up.

“Most witches are like born into it right? They are tight lipped about their practices.” Skylar toyed with the chains around their neck. A choker rests snuggly around her neck with different length chains and chunky spikes and an assortment of pins and charms she had managed to hook onto them.

“I thought you had to kill someone.” Santiago replied.

“Magic can be inherited, gifted, or taken.” Mia said matter-of-factly, “It’s possible to take it by killing someone. It is not as easy as people would believe. Pulling the life energy from a living thing is difficult, it's more than murder which most uneducated people think.”

Santiago smiled tightly, scratching his nose pointedly with his middle finger.

She glowered back.

“All of your answers are correct. In answer to your question Skylar, most are born into their covens though not all. Some are like us. Brought together by a commonality beyond blood.” Rosenia held out her palm in which a spark flickered to life before igniting into a flame that engulfed her hand.

Some jolted, startled by the vibrant flames as they raced up her arm.

Santiago leaned in, “Doesn’t that burn?!”

“Only if I let it.” She shook her hand flippantly and the flames disappeared. “It is important to keep your powers in check. People think more power is everything and are eaten alive by them.”

The rest of the lecture those words hung with him the most. It sounded simple enough in practice. Yet, what he felt that night felt untamable..

What would happen if he failed?

Would the power inside devour him or something much worse?

Would it take him and everything else he cared about with him?

All he wanted was to be away from everyone. To have some space to himself without someone looming over him.

Now he had it and the silence was deafening.

Rosenia vanished into endless halls of the Queen Anne style home only reappearing for mealtimes.

Soft light from ornate sconces lined the walls along with shelves filled with worn books, jars of dried herbs, and an assortment of bottles labeled in a language Santiago could not understand. Intricate crown molding upon closer inspection could be found to have sigils carved among the decorative designs. These served as guideposts as he traversed the home which seemed a bit too large for what could be seen on the outside. The air carried a subtle hint of incense and in the quietest moments the boy thought he heard a soft melody whose source he could never find.

He was not even sure anyone else was here.

Once he grew tired of staring at the ceiling, he figured he might as well see what all the house had to offer. As he ambled down the halls, he opened up each door finding more simple unlived in bedrooms. Antique furniture gracing the spaces with rich finishes from a bygone era of opulence and refinement.

An elaborately carved mahogany sideboard with intricate scrollwork, floral motifs, and acanthus leaves in every corner commanded attention in the sitting room. Wingback chairs upholstered in brocade and deeply cushioned seats held up by cabriole legs and ball-and-claw feet.

The fourth door he peeked into happened to be an occupied bathroom. .

Sylvia screeched, scrambling for a towel.

Santiago quickly closed the door, a hand pressed to his mouth to stifle laughter. He quickly made his getaway.

On the first floor he rifled around in the kitchen splaying out the ingredients for a sandwich across the granite countertops. The matching kitchen island stood atop ornately carved legs. Generous counter space made feeding the home filled with ravenous teens a monumentally easier task. The new age appliances were jarring amidst the home that took one back a century.

A familiar scent wafted through the open window over the sink.

He lost count of how many times Jesus and him would sit outside huddled under the slim underhang for protection from the never ending rain. All to smoke a bowl without Jesus’s parents knowing. They stashed everything in an old jewelry box that tucked in a small hole they dug out under one of the decorative brick plates of the walkway.

Lounging on the patio sofa sat Khalil. The boy absently scrolled through his phone a lit joint in the other. Swamped in a black hoodie under which a graphic t-shirt with bold abstract patterns of a band's name that was indecipherable beneath the folds. Pants with an unnecessary amount of utility pockets and adjustable straps that were pinned to each hip.

“AYE!” Santiago called.

Startled, the boy let go of the phone, fumbling it twice before it bounced off the coffee table and hit the floor.

“Really, man?” Khalil quickly stashed the weed.

“Had to.” Santiago slumped into the chair beside. “I don’t even care how or why as long as you share the wealth.”

Khalil grinned, “Santiago, where are you from?”

“South Beacon.”

“West Seattle.”

“How did you end up here?” Said Santiago.

Khalil took a long drag, his head tilted back as he exhaled the smoke. his pulled back dreads bobbed along, “My mom goes way back with Rosenia, she has me come here when she’s on business trips. You?”

Santiago let out a dry laugh, “Uh, lost control of my powers and beat the shit out of a few people.”

Khalil hacked in between laughs. “You and I lead very different lives.”

He shrugged, “I mean I could do worse. It got me a room in a mansion.”

“Way to fail up.” Khalil lowered the wireless headset from his ears, his light voice had a hint of a rasp. “So what’s your manifest?”

“My what?” Said Santiago.

“Your magic. The basic form your magic takes.”

“Uh,” Santiago shrugged. “I blacked out, so I don’t remember. I did come back from the dead once.”

“Wha-!”

“Dinner!” Mia called, rolling her eyes at the smoking boys. “You both smell disgusting.”

“Bite me ginger snap.” Said Santiago.

She slammed the patio doors.

Khalil put out the joint, a finger tipped with chipped black nail polish pointed at him. “We are going to circle back to that last part.”