Bridget Kendrick was the first to discover her magic and begin seeking out the sisters of her coven, leaving home at age sixteen. Tall, auburn chin-length hair, and stunning violet eyes. She has two younger siblings. An older brother died while serving in the Royal Air Force. Bridget blames America for his death, as Britain joined the war at their behest.
No stranger to magic, Bridget learned hearth magic from her mother, as it has been taught in generations past. Her goddess gift is fire, but she also enjoys to heat up the bedroom. She is bold and calculating. The only thing quiet about her is her laugh.
Inspired by her brother, Bridget is a pilot. She flies a jet for hire, often transporting Maralah and her clients.
You may remember Bridget from a previous excerpt. Here’s an excerpt earlier in the story. This takes place at a rented one-room cottage.
She kicked her shoes off, and settled in the flower print recliner with an iced tea.
"A little flowery, but nice place."
"Yeah." Bridget reclined on the king bed. "Too bad I don't have anyone to warm these sheets with tonight."
Maralah sipped her drink. "No success with the limo driver?"
"Too old. And married."
"Not that either has stopped you."
Bridget laughed. "You know me too well. Truth is, I noticed President Clark's biography tucked next to his seat. Too patriotic." She shuddered.
Maralah lifted her drink in a toast. "Now that I can understand."
"I'm thinking of staying in Italy for a few days before flying home to Wales. Come with me. Mama has been dying to meet you."
"I've kept my schedule clear for the next month because of summer solstice. I'd love to see a traditional celebration. Plus shopping in Italy? How could I say no?"
Bridget sighed. "If only our coven was closed. I've been itching to do more than petty magic."
"Your magic is not petty." Maralah set aside her empty glass. She took a vial from her purse and sat cross-legged on the carpet, the fireplace on her left. "Let's petition the Trinity. See if our sister has awoken."
Bridget sat in front of Maralah. With a wave of her hand, a fire blazed up in the hearth.
Maralah opened the vial and poured a dime sized amount of dirt into her hand. She tossed it in the fire. The flames changed to a bright green, then blue, purple, and back to orange. They clasped hands. "We call the goddess three."
"Fire to lend our power."
"Sacred earth we give thee."
"Show our sister this hour."