The Divergence

Lavinia rolled her empty red eyes toward the sky, reached beside herself, and snapped a small twig from the branch she sat upon. 

The wood broke between her fingers with a tiny crack that seemed almost offensively ordinary after reality itself had just disappeared and returned. 

She turned the broken piece between her fingertips, staring down into the dark forest below while everyone waited for the answer Valerie had demanded.

“If I guessed correctly,” Lavinia said, tossing the twig away, “Witches.”

Valerie leaned closer. “And?”

Lavinia wrinkled her nose. She had seen enough of one species in the future to be reasonably confident about Witches. 

The other was based on scattered remarks, one encounter she hadn’t personally witnessed, and the knowledge she’d picked up during those bewildering hours five years ahead.

“And... Elves?” Lavinia said, uncertainty dragging the word upward.

Gwendolyn made an excited little sound from where she remained comfortably situated across Lavinia’s lap. “Are those the ones with the really long pointy ears and huge boobs?”

Silence followed.

Lavinia slowly lowered her gaze to Gwendolyn.

Valerie blinked.

Adelaide stared.

Cordelia’s eyebrows climbed.

Even Ophelia, who usually had something cynical prepared for everything, seemed to require a moment.

Gwendolyn’s enthusiasm visibly wilted beneath the collective attention. 

She looked from one vampire to another, white hair sliding over her shoulders as she drew herself up with as much dignity as someone sitting in another woman’s lap could reasonably manage. “What? Games have Elves! I was just a little curious.”

Rosaline covered her mouth, shoulders shaking.

“Only a little?” Evangeline asked.

Gwendolyn crossed her arms. “It’s a very common artistic interpretation.”

Valerie’s laughter finally broke free. “We could always find out. The city isn’t far.”

Gwendolyn’s red eyes widened.

She was off Lavinia’s lap so quickly that Lavinia barely had time to lift her hands out of the way. 

Wings burst from Gwendolyn’s back, spreading wide beneath the branches as she scrambled upright. 

Adelaide was already stepping off the branch beside them, her own wings unfurling, while Rosaline dropped backward with a delighted laugh and opened hers in the fall. 

Cordelia followed with considerably more dignity, blue hair lifting around her as leathery wings extended behind her.

“Traitors,” Evangeline complained, although her wings were already coming out.

Lavinia pushed herself to her feet on the branch. “I also want to know.”

“You’re all terrible,” Violetta said.

“You’re coming,” Valerie replied.

“Obviously.”

Lavinia grinned and jumped.

For a heartbeat she simply fell, black dress snapping upward around her legs. 

Then her wings erupted from her back and opened, catching the air with a hard beat that hurled her forward. The trees blurred beneath her almost instantly.

The sensation was familiar.

Almost.

Lavinia tilted slightly, slipping around the crown of a massive tree before accelerating again. 

The forest raced beneath her, individual branches becoming streaks of brown and black beneath the obscured sky of the Diverged Lands. 

She could feel the air streaming over her wings and through her golden hair, but something about it felt subtly wrong.

Or rather, subtly better.

Valerie swept in beside her, orange hair whipping behind her. She glanced over, expression unusually thoughtful for someone currently rocketing over a forest. “Do you feel like we’re moving faster?”

Lavinia looked at her. “I was wondering that.”

“Good. So I’m not imagining it.”

Purple flashed above them before Violetta descended into formation, effortlessly matching their pace. She watched the terrain below for several seconds, then glanced toward the others. “We’re faster.”

Valerie brightened. “Really?”

“Not enormously,” Violetta said. “But yes. Our flight speed has increased. We were already relatively fast before the Third Divergence, but this is definitely faster.”

Lavinia flexed one wing experimentally and gained enough speed to pull several yards ahead before leveling out again. “Huh.”

“The world gets new species and we get a buff,” Rosaline called from behind them.

“I’ll take it,” Evangeline answered.

The trip back to Oakridge was short. Lavinia hadn’t flown especially deep into the Diverged Lands after leaving the ceremony, and at their speed the forest gave way to the altered outskirts of the city almost immediately. 

Buildings emerged ahead, along with streets, parked vehicles, people cautiously venturing outside, soldiers moving through intersections, and the general confusion of a population that had just endured its third impossible alteration of reality.

Lavinia slowed.

“There,” Cordelia said.

Four figures stood together on a sidewalk.

Even from the air, they were conspicuous.

Their hair alone made them stand out—not because humans couldn’t possess unusual colors with enough dye, but because there was something almost too clean about the shades beneath them. Black, silver, rich brown, and brilliant red. 

All four were women. All four wore ordinary modern clothing, as though reality had changed everything about what they were while deciding their wardrobes were perfectly acceptable.

And all four were staring upward.

“Oh,” Lavinia murmured.

The black-haired woman’s mouth fell open.

Lavinia folded her wings partially and descended.

The other vampires followed.

She landed lightly on the pavement in front of the four women, her heels making barely a sound. 

Her dress fluttered around her before settling perfectly back into place. 

Valerie touched down beside her, then Gwendolyn, Rosaline, Cordelia and the others, one after another until the four strangers had gone from standing alone on an Oakridge sidewalk to being surrounded by a small flock of vampires.

Their eyes were unmistakable.

Black.

Not dark brown. Not pupils expanded until the irises disappeared.

Empty, uninterrupted black filled their eyes from edge to edge.

Witches.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

The black-haired Witch looked left.

Then right.

Then up at the vampires surrounding her.

She groaned.

“Oh, come on,” she whined, throwing her head back. “Ref! Referee! We’re getting spawn-camped by vampires! This isn’t fair! We are definitely the unluckiest Witches in the entire world!”

Lavinia stared.

The Witch was beautiful.

Not beautiful in quite the same way vampires were. 

There wasn’t that peculiar uniform perfection Lavinia had become accustomed to among her own kind, nor the athletic, predatory beauty she associated with werewolves. 

The Witch had her own quality—softly feminine, pale, long black hair framing her face, black clothes hanging comfortably from her figure, and those impossible eyes making an otherwise lovely face immediately supernatural.

Lavinia snorted.

The Witch lowered her head.

“We’re curious about you,” Lavinia said. “We’re not here to fight.”

“Oh.”

Gwendolyn burst into laughter.

The black-haired Witch’s expression flattened. “I’m glad my imminent death is funny.”

“You called for a referee!” Gwendolyn managed.

Rosaline giggled beside her. “I like this one.”

“Thank you?” the Witch said.

The silver-haired Witch glanced between her companions. 

She seemed considerably less eager to joke while surrounded by creatures who could tear all four of them apart, and Lavinia watched her visibly gather herself before stepping forward.

“My name is Annelotte,” she said.

Lavinia blinked.

Her voice was lovely.

Not musical in quite the same way Lavinia vaguely recognized in vampire voices, but simply delightful to hear: soft, clear, naturally pleasant. 

There was nothing identical about it to the voices of the other Witches when they had spoken, either. 

The redhead’s earlier muttering had carried a rougher edge, while the black-haired Witch had been expressive and almost sing-song in her complaints. 

Yet there was something appealing about all of them.

Annelotte gestured toward the black-haired Witch. “That’s Mirabelle. Tanselle is beside her, and the redhead is Merrit.”

Mirabelle gave a small wave.

The brown-haired Tanselle smiled nervously.

Merrit raised two fingers.

“Lavinia,” Lavinia replied. She gestured loosely around herself. “Valerie, Gwendolyn, Adelaide, Rosaline, Celestine, Cordelia, Evelyn, Evangeline, Violetta, Ophelia—and Diana is a Thrall.”

“That was a lot,” Merrit said.

“You’ll manage,” Ophelia replied.

Lavinia inhaled.

That was interesting too.

All four Witches possessed a faint sweetness to their scent. Nothing remotely as strong or individualized as another vampire’s fragrance, but enough for Lavinia’s senses to notice immediately. 

Beneath that sweetness, however, was something bitter. Not unpleasant exactly. Just contrasting, like sweetness laid over something sharper.

Tanselle took a hesitant step forward. Her hands clasped together briefly before she looked at Lavinia and the others. “Um... thank you.”

Lavinia tilted her head. “For?”

“For earlier. Defending Oakridge.” Tanselle glanced toward the distant portions of the city that still bore the scars of the Tide. “We heard about what happened. Everybody did.”

Merrit nodded vigorously. Her short red hair shifted around her cheeks. “I heard the explosions. I was freaking the hell out for most of the day.”

Her voice was remarkably tomboyish, especially compared with Annelotte’s gentler cadence. It was still pleasant, but in a completely different way.

Cordelia regarded her curiously. “Are you freaking out less now that you’ve turned into something that isn’t human?”

Merrit considered that.

“Actually? Yeah.” She grinned. “I mean, I can defend myself a little now. And I’m stronger.”

She bent one arm and proudly flexed her bicep.

There was not very much bicep to flex.

Valerie’s lips pressed tightly together.

Merrit noticed. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I was going to congratulate you.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Valerie finally lost the battle and laughed. “Can you cast spells?”

All four Witches immediately became more attentive.

“Magic,” Valerie clarified. “You know what I mean.”

“We can,” Tanselle said.

Her black eyes brightened in a way that had nothing to do with pupils.

She extended one hand.

Something hit Lavinia.

It wasn’t air. There was no fist, no projectile, no visible wave of energy. One moment she was standing normally; the next, an invisible force slammed into her chest and shoved her backward.

Her heels scraped several inches across the pavement.

Around her came a chorus of startled sounds. Valerie stumbled back two steps. Gwendolyn’s wings twitched open reflexively before she caught herself. 

Adelaide slid backward. Rosaline nearly collided with Celestine, while Ophelia’s arms immediately snaked around Diana’s waist and pulled the Thrall against herself before Diana could topple.

Violetta moved perhaps half a step.

Then everything stopped.

Tanselle stared at them with obvious delight.

Adelaide looked down at her feet, then at Tanselle. “There wasn’t even an incantation.”

“Nope.”

“No cast time?”

Tanselle blinked. “I mean... I did it.”

Violetta tapped one finger thoughtfully against her chin.

Tanselle’s enthusiasm grew. “If I did that to a human, I think they’d fall over. Or maybe get thrown? That’s what it feels like should happen.” She looked at Lavinia with unmistakable admiration. “You’re really strong.”

Annelotte smacked her arm.

“Ow!”

“Don’t use magic on people without asking!”

Tanselle froze.

Her empty black eyes widened.

“Oh.”

Annelotte stared at her.

Tanselle slowly looked toward the vampires.

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

Her face flushed scarlet almost instantly. “I didn’t even think—I just wanted to show you and—sorry. Really. Sorry.”

Ophelia snorted.

Diana looked up at her. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“You caught me like I was going to die.”

“You were falling.”

Diana nudged her with an elbow.

Ophelia glared down at her, although the hostility was so obviously manufactured that even Mirabelle seemed to notice. After another second, Ophelia released Diana from the protective hold and folded her arms.

Celestine turned toward Mirabelle. “How do you feel?”

Mirabelle’s playful expression softened.

“Good,” she said after a moment. “Really good. It’s strange. I feel like...” She looked down at her hands, turning them over. “Like there are so many things I should be doing.”

“Doing what?” Evelyn asked.

“I don’t know!”

Mirabelle laughed, and once again Lavinia noticed how delightful the Witch’s voice was. “That’s the problem. I’m excited. I don’t even know what I’m excited about. I just want to do things.”

Merrit touched one finger to her lower lip.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “That’s it.”

Everyone looked at her.

“I’ve felt hyper since it happened, but not normal hyper.” Merrit rocked once on her heels. “I don’t want to go running or something. I just want to... do stuff. Try things. Figure things out.”

Her gaze wandered over the vampires.

Then her black eyes widened.

“I really want to try my magic on you.”

Annelotte turned her head.

“Just a little!” Merrit hurriedly added.

“You literally just watched me yell at her.”

“I’d ask first!”

Merrit smiled sheepishly, then looked at the other three Witches. “We might have a slight problem with our minds.”

Lavinia stared at her.

Blue hair.

A gigantic hat adorned with roses and thorns.

A beautiful smiling face and eyes as black as the four pairs before her.

The Witch of Thorns had been charming. Amused. Curious. Horrifyingly casual about offering a hundred thousand human beings as though they were cattle being moved between owners. 

She had spoken about experiments without shame and indefinite life as an interesting problem she could solve if given access to Lavinia.

At the time, Lavinia had seen what five years had made.

Now she was looking at the beginning.

Not cruelty.

Not yet.

Curiosity.

A Witch only minutes removed from humanity was already struggling to remain still because there were things she could do now that she couldn’t do before. 

Magic existed in her hands. Questions had answers waiting to be found. Every new sensation seemed to suggest another experiment.

Lavinia’s amusement faded slightly.

Five years.

Five years of war. Five years of fear. Five years of Witches discovering more spells, more materials, more uses for blood and bodies and emotion. 

Five years of other people trying to kill them while their own curiosity constantly whispered what happens if?

Would it really be surprising that humans eventually found them terrifying?

Would it be surprising that they eventually deserved the reputation?

Tanselle tapped her index fingers together, still visibly embarrassed by what she’d done. “We can control it.”

Annelotte looked at her.

“We can!”

“You just magically shoved thirteen people.”

“Twelve vampires and one Thrall.”

“That isn’t better.”

“I apologized!”

Mirabelle covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Tanselle sighed. “What I mean is... it’s not like we can’t stop ourselves. We can. It’s just hard because every time I think about the magic, I want to know what it does.”

Her embarrassment gave way to a smile.

“It feels like being a kid on Christmas morning.”

Merrit nodded immediately.

Tanselle’s hands spread as she searched for the words. “Except there are presents everywhere, and you don’t know what’s inside any of them, and every time you open one there’s another present behind it. I know things now that I didn’t know before, but I don’t know exactly what all of it means until I try it, and...” She laughed softly. “It’s exciting.”

Annelotte exhaled through her nose. “That part I understand.”

“You wanted to know too.”

“I wanted you to ask first.”

“Details.”

“Important details.”

Nearby, several humans had stopped walking.

Lavinia noticed them only because their attention had become so obvious. A man stood outside a storefront staring at the gathering. 

Two women farther down the sidewalk had slowed almost to a stop. A soldier across the intersection was speaking into a radio while watching them.

It wasn’t difficult to understand why.

A flock of winged vampires had just descended into the middle of Oakridge.

And they were now casually chatting with four beautiful black-eyed women nobody had seen before the Third Divergence.

One of the nearby humans murmured something to his companion.

Mirabelle glanced toward him.

The man immediately looked elsewhere.

Mirabelle giggled.

That lovely voice carried effortlessly across the sidewalk, and the man glanced back despite himself.

Lavinia smiled.

“Even so,” she said, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet—”

“Likewise—”

“You too—”

“Definitely—”

All four Witches stopped.

They looked at one another.

Merrit’s lips twitched. Tanselle pressed hers together. Mirabelle failed first, a laugh slipping free.

Annelotte closed her eyes for a moment, apparently gathering what remained of her dignity. Then she looked back at Lavinia, her empty black eyes meeting Lavinia’s empty red ones.

“It was good to meet you as well,” Annelotte said.

Behind her, the other three nodded.

Annelotte

Merrit

Mirabelle

Tanselle