Brilliant witch. Socially awkward. The last protector of the human race.
So yeah, that’s me: Celestina Sykes. Now seriously, how can I save humanity when I practically go into panic attack mode just talking with a stranger? And guys? Yeah, right! I’ve never even kissed one, much less went on a date.
Not only that, but my witch-bitch Granny stole my memory of the week someone killed my mom, which was around the same time I mysteriously aged two years within a couple minutes, and you get an idea how awesome my life is.
All told, I’ve got a few days to figure out whom to trust, finally make some friends who can help with this whole end-of-the-world-thing, and my social calendar is kinda booked. But hey, wish me luck…and multiply that by infinity because I think I’m gonna need it.
“Did you know,” Granny said in monotone, “that you are not eighteen years of age?”
I replayed her statement in my mind, and…I sensed she believed the words she spoke, no matter how ridiculous they sounded.
“The week your mother died,” she continued, “you physically aged two years…within an hour.” Granny looked at me, plain-faced, her mouth closed with no intention of saying another word.
“What’re you talking about?” I asked, my lips lifting at the absurdity. “You sound like a lunatic.”
“Do I look like a lunatic?”
“Yes! Always. It’s your thing.”
Sydney writes about the type of women that populate the world. Well, okay, maybe they’re not witches, vampires, and shifters, but you know – the strong, smart, and witty type.