This is one of my first stabs at capturing Lex’s perspective as I started drafting the novel. As you can see, I was still working out some of the kinks with world-building, so you’ll see the place of mages and the secrecy of the society are very different than what ended up in the actual novel.  This has been proofread, but is otherwise unedited, written mostly in one sitting, but part of the messy early process. ~ Bria

I, Alexander James Monroe (more commonly called “Lex.” No, I’m not a supervillain, thanks. Really), was cursed. Someone had cursed me. The question of who taunted me a bit, because I didn’t think I had any enemies in the witch-world. Our community was pretty small in my hometown of Staunton, Virginia. Only about ten other families besides mine. And none of them included kids near my age (18). I haven’t upset any of the younger kids, either. I mean, maybe Lizzie, my little sister, might curse me, but. She’s 12. She’d only be able to manage little curses, nothing on this magnitude. And she wouldn’t mess with Goddess-blessed stuff. No one I know would. But someone had. Because I was cursed.

I was supposed to be blessed. I’d known all my life I was a Triune Soul, which meant I had not just one, but two soulmates and we were supposed to form a triad—the strongest magic bonding anyone can have. And, well, I finally found my two soulmates, but that was where I was cursed.

See, soulmates were meant to be the romantic and sexual ideal—not like Aristotelian platonic soulmates, but Hollywood style, only more. We were literally meant complete each other and shit, in all ways. And, since a lot of the supernatural community was polyamorous, a triadic magic bond was meant to be a polyamorous triad, too—each person in love with both of the other people.

And, sure, maybe I would get that with one of my soulmates, but it seemed sketchy and unlikely.

I found my first soulmate when I was five. That never happens, understand. Most soulmate bonds don’t show themselves until the parties have hit puberty. Like, they’re there. You just can’t see them. But Mike saw the silver cord tying us together the moment we met in kindergarten. That’s how my parents knew he wasn’t just the mundane human he seems to be, but a potential mage. Mages are humans who can see and use magic. They aren’t witches—they don’t have a magical core themselves like supernats do—but they can use magical objects or draw magic from a witch or shifter they bond to and do magic that’s usually a lower-powered version of what witches do. You find one by their ability to sense magic, like auras or soulbonds. Then, if they’re lucky, some supernat family decides to train them. But, like soulbonds, mages usually don’t come into their power until after puberty. So, they don’t start training until they’re teenagers, meaning they never really can rival a witch in power or what they do. But Mike, learning so young and being my soulmate, was really powerful for a mage, and it was really hot to watch him do magic, once we got old enough that he could be hot and I could appreciate his hotness. It should’ve been perfect. I didn’t care my soulmate was a guy—I wasn’t sure if it was just him or not, when I first noticed him that way, but it turned out I’m bisexual, so. All was well on my end. Except this wasn’t likely to end well, and thus the curse. Maybe I’m bi, but Mike? Mike is as straight as an arrow. So. Fuck me. Or well, no. I guess don’t. He’s not as homophobic as most straight guys. Everyone at school has always assumed we were fucking, because of how close we are, and he never bothers to correct them. We’ve even had a threesome or two—always with a girl—without him freaking out at the proximity of my dick. But, we’ve graduated high school and are heading to Parris Island for Marine Corps Basic Training in a few weeks, and he’s never so much as kissed me, even when his current girlfriend asked us to for her birthday.

So, I don’t know how this soulmate thing is supposed to work. Maybe the Goddess got it wrong and we’re just supposed to be the platonic ideal or some shit, with our third being a woman we both love and don’t mind sharing. I could make myself be okay with that. I mean, I’m completely in love with him, but I don’t want to risk what we do have over my inconvenient hard ons.

The problem is, we’ve met our third and that’s how I know I’m cursed. She’s a girl, yes, but not a woman—a girl. As in, she’s twelve, like my little sister. Like I said, soulbonds usually show up around puberty, but they don’t usually come with such an age gap. Even that, though, I could handle—we know who she is; we go do our military thing while she finishes growing up; then we see where we stand. But she’s got another destiny. She’s the Crown Princess of the shifters, engaged to the Witch Queen’s son, and, together they’re supposed to have the supernat’s version of the messiah, the queen who will unite the supernatural community and lead us into an era of peace with the humans or something. Prophecies are all so vague and weird. But, whatever the messiah is supposed to do, she’s a big deal and my soulmate is supposed to be her mom, so. When she finishes growing up, she’ll be marrying someone else.

You’re starting to see my problem, yes?

But, wait, you’re thinking, didn’t you say that a lot of supernats are polyamorous? I did, and that’s especially true for shifters. But except for triads, they still generally have primary relationships, and a first spouse—a mate—usually takes precedence. Except no one’s ever been in this situation. Usually, finding out she’s a Triune Soul bound to two others should have negated her betrothal. Under the Triple Goddess, Triune Souls are considered practically sacred. But, y’know. So is the messiah. No one knows what to do about it.

And here I sit with two soulmates, both of whom are out of reach, even when we’ve all been raised to believe nothing trumps soulmates.

See? Cursed.

If it’s supposed to be some grand cosmic scheme to teach me patience, the Goddess could’ve just…created me to be patient. Or maybe that one’s on God. He’s the one who sets up the impossible tests and stuff, right? Like, see exhibit A: Job.

I would have failed as Job. Or as Noah. Or Moses. Or Paul. Peter messed up enough on his own, so. I feel better about that.

Yes, I’m a witch. Yes, I know my Bible. Witches, as in those of us part of the supernat community, not Wiccans, don’t have our own religion. We’re not Satanists, definitely. A lot of us in America are at least nominally Christian, actually. We just revere the Goddess, too, but that doesn’t go over well in most communities, and most of us don’t want to end up confined to just one or two cities in the country. There’s no widely hidden world like in Harry Potter. We live and love in this one, alongside mundane humans. Muggles, if you like. They just don’t know our secrets usually—not without special dispensation, at least. Mages are the exception, but, then, they aren’t really mundanes. They’re something in between. No one quite knows where they come from, these otherwise mundane humans able to see and use magic. The main theory is they’re from lost witch families who’ve intermarried with mundanes for enough generations that their magical cores are depleted to undetectable levels. Maybe that’s the truth. It doesn’t really matter. Thing is – you can’t hide magic from a mage. They can spot a witch or a shifter at a glance. Apparently we glow or something in their sight. Or that’s what Mike says. So, they have to be told the truth and trained and sworn to keep our secrets.

That’s why we’re in New Orleans before shipping out—so I can swear my oath to my Queen and Mike can swear to protect my secret as my bonded soulmate. It’s a whole ritual thing, but it protects him. Like I said before, soulmates are sacred. Once bound, they can’t be separated against their wills, even by the government. Yep, the government knows about supernats. Have from the start. After the mess at Salem, they weren’t keen on actually going after real witches with power they couldn’t understand. Washington saw how it could benefit the nation and the Magical Corps was found. MagCorps operates within the regular Armed Forces and is where supernats who want to serve are assigned. It’s small, because, like the rest of the military, it’s all volunteer and can only be used as an elite strike force where survivors aren’t likely to blab about what they’ve seen. Most think we’ve just got a fancy new weapon if they see the fireballs or whatever, but mostly, there are a lot of obfuscation spells going on that makes whatever MagCorps does look totally normal to mundanes. I don’t know how it works, yet. We go to MagCorps training after we finish at Parris Island. After we’re sworn to Queen Esther, that’s a given. Mom’s glad, because, ultimately, it’s safer. We’ve got magical shields and stuff, after all, and powerful witches and mages who’ll have our backs. IF I weren’t cursed, there’d be other perks—Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell has never been a thing with MagCorps. Soulmates are preferred to serve and a lot of time, bonded pairs serving are also same-sex. Not that it’s a rule or anything—there are plenty of opposite sex bonded soulmates out there, like my parents. But for a matriarchal society, our supernat military still skews heavily male. I think part of it is getting in and through human basic training. That’s the one thing the Department of Defense insists on: all MagCorps members must first be eligible and trained to serve in one of the main branches of the military. MagCorps is like…special forces, an elite force within the main branch only no one who’s not part of it really knows who or what we are or we do.

I was never particularly keen on the idea of the military. I wanted to be a history professor. Still do, mostly. But Mike’s family has always been Marines and no way he was violating that tradition, not when his dad at least allowed him to stay friends with me—thereby still letting him be trained as a mage—even after it became clear I was less-than-straight and his dad started fuming about my potentially seducing and corrupting his son.

Only in my dreams, apparently. But if Mike was going off to the military, no way I was letting him go alone. Someone’s got to watch his back.

So, anyway, we had to be sworn and bound before basic, and the Queens and their Courts are down here in Louisiana. The ritual went smoothly, even if Mike was a little in awe and uncertain (if I’m honest, so was I). There were five pairs of us swearing our oaths and binding ourselves to our soulmates—think kinda like a marriage rite, but without the “forsaking all others” bit and more focused on mutual loyalty and support. Then came the party—or rather, the “ball,” afterward, which I’m pretty sure was mostly meant to kick off Mardi Gras for the supernat community, but which they kindly said was for all of us.

And then there she was.