A Witchly Influence

by Stephanie Grey

  I looked at Randy. “I’m so glad you brought your wife.”

  “I told her it wasn’t your typical housewarming party, but she said if she couldn’t come, then I couldn’t come and I wanted to support you,” Randy said, his voice small.

  I hugged my stepbrother. “I’m glad you’re here,” I said. I wanted to add that I wished he’d let his balls drop and stop letting Cecily be such a jerk.

  “You think that’s bad, try riding in the car with them on the way over here,” a voice said behind me.

  I turned around to see my other stepbrother, Finn, standing in front of the door. He was tall, lanky, and was wearing his usual baseball cap. He was sensitive about his thinning hair, though it didn’t stop Randy from teasing his little brother about it occasionally. I hugged him, too, and tugged him further inside so that I could close the door. “Finn!” I said excitedly. “How have you been?”

  “Not bad. Working. Drinking. Same shit,” he answered simply.

  “Are you still working for the same company?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about your roommate? Are you still living at the same place?” I prodded.

  “Yeah, it’s all the same. No changes since the last time you were home. You, though. Look at you. Finally got rid of that asshole.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down. “Sorry,” he said softly.

  I waved my hand. “Oh, no. It’s okay. Really. You were the only one who protested us getting married. I should have listened to you.”

  “I’m not always dumb.”

  “You’re never dumb,” I argued. Changing the focus, I asked, “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Cecily offered to set me up with one of her friends.”

  Rigid, I stared at my stepbrother.

  He laughed. “I told her no, thanks. I’d find a lady on my own.”

  I relaxed. “We don’t need two of them in the family.”

  “Hell no,” Finn agreed. “To tell you the truth, I’m not looking right now. I found that the best relationships happen when you stop searching.”

  “I was unaware you’ve had a great relationship,” I said carefully. Finn had dated women on and off for years, though he had never been with one for more than a few months. He was like Siobhan in that matter.

  “That’s why I’ve stopped looking. A woman will come to me. Eventually.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Have you been doing anything else outside of work other than going to the bar?”

  Finn’s brown eyes flashed for a moment. “I did start to take some guitar lessons, but I stopped.”

  I tilted my head, thinking. “Why did you stop?”

  “I just didn’t have time for it.”

  “You really didn’t have time or you didn’t make time?” I asked.

  He laughed. “You caught me. I didn’t make the time.”

  “You should make the time. Get you out of the Midnight Cowboy a little more often,” I suggested, referring to a local bar.

  Finn nodded and thoughtfully stroked the stubble on his chin. “I guess I could. I enjoyed it when I did it. I did spend all of that time learning to read music. I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

  “Then go for it. We can have a jam session.”

  “What do you play?” he asked. “I didn’t know you played anything.”

  “I can hit the buttons with pre-recorded songs on the keyboard.”

  Finn laughed again. “Fair enough.” He looked around the living room. “Hey, are those gnomes serving drinks?”

  My eyes widened. “No, they’re not,” I stammered.

  He squinted. “Sure looks like it to me, but I guess they prefer to be called little people.”

  The doorbell rang again and I answered, not sure who else it could possibly be.

  “Hi, I’m an Eraser,” said a large man dressed as Santa Claus.

  “I don’t think we need one,” I said, frowning.

  The Eraser looked past me, at my stepbrother. “I think you do.”

  I sighed. “Fine.” I stepped aside so that he could enter. “Could you at least wait until the party is over? There might be more he’ll notice,” I asked.

  The Eraser smiled. “Sure,” he said easily. “You don’t have any of those spinach pinwheels, do you? Those are my favorite.”

  Two hours later, I thanked everyone for coming to my housewarming party. When they didn’t take the hint that it was time to leave, I began to hustle people out of my home. My family had already left except for Finn, who had asked if I could give him a ride home. Cecily was complaining about having parties in the evening instead of during the day when children could enjoy them more as she dragged Randy and Apple to the car.

  Finn was currently deep in conversation with Enid. She was explaining her job to him, though she made it sound like she worked at a museum instead of a company that literally transported its guests back in time. It was too bad outsiders weren’t allowed to know about witchcraft. It had taken decades to get the Council to change its mind about being able to tell spouses. I didn’t know if they’d ever budge on their decision to let extended family in on the secret. I paused and shuddered. Cecily would be even more of a pain in the ass if she knew that witchcraft was real. It was easy to picture her demanding I provide everything her family needed so that she could keep Randy underneath her watchful eye twenty-four hours a day.

  The crowd thinning, I noticed the Eraser. He took another pinwheel, this one made from cinnamon and marshmallow cream, and thanked the gnome who had given it to him. “That’s a great choice, sir!” the gnome said.

  “You’ve got good taste,” the Eraser replied with equal enthusiasm.

  The gnome squealed with delight and scurried off to the kitchen. Siobhan and Tess followed him, hopefully to gather all of the gnomes and return them to Mrs. Crouch’s yard.

  When he was finished eating his treat, the Eraser walked over to Finn and held out his hand to shake it. “I don’t think we’ve met yet,” he said.

  Finn’s eyes glazed over as the Eraser’s magic rippled through him.

  “Kind of funny how Carmen got elves to serve at her party, isn’t it?”

  Finn’s head tilted and his eyebrows knitted in concentration. “No,” he said, almost dreamily. “They’re gnomes.”

  The Eraser shook his hand harder. Finn looked like he was vibrating and I shot a warning glare at the Eraser. “What did you say the caterers were?” he prodded.

  “She got little people to dress up as elves. Good theme for the holidays, but it feels kind of wrong in a way. Politically, I mean,” Finn muttered.

  The Eraser released Finn’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Finn!” he said cheerily. He inclined his head slightly toward my stepbrother and headed in my direction. “What I do doesn’t hurt them at all. It just looks like it does. I promised that I would never hurt a mortal. It’s easier for the ones that don’t recognize magic at all. I suppose people like Finn keep people like me in business.” He flashed a grin. “See you around, Carmen!” In an instant, he was gone.

  There was a loud crash and Enid and I excused ourselves to join Siobhan and Tess in the kitchen. A gnome was sulking on my bar stool, his arms crossed. “I don’t want to go back to the yard! I want to stay here!” he cried.

  “That’s where you belong,” Tess said soothingly. “You have someone over there that loves you dearly.”

  The little gnome sniffed. “She dresses me in funny clothes.”

  “Don’t you like them?” Siobhan asked tentatively.

  The gnome took off his green hat and rubbed his hand over his bald head. “I don’t mind them.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I don’t like being near the tree by the sidewalk. I get peed on by dogs.” The gnome replaced his hat and fresh tears sprang out of his eyes.

  “We’ll move you,” Tess promised.

  He cried even harder. “But then one of my brothers will get peed on!” He shook his head sadly. �
��I couldn’t wish that on them.”

  “Oh.” Tess looked at the rest of us, unsure of what to do.

  “I’ll help you out with them,” Siobhan said, stepping forward. She touched the tip of his hat and he began to glow a bright, neon green. As the glow faded, she said, “Now you’re waterproof.” To prove it, she filled a glass with water and poured it over the gnome’s head. It cascaded off around him, never touching him.

  The gnome’s eyes widened and he hopped off the bar stool. He hugged Siobhan’s shins, thanking her repeatedly until she gently pried him off her. “I’m ready to go back now,” he said.

  “All right.” Siobhan and Tess clapped their hands in unison and the gnomes went back to their normal state. Another clap and they returned to their former positions at my neighbor’s home.

  “Is everything okay?” Finn asked, popping his head in through the swinging door. “Is there a problem with the caterers?”

  “Oh, no. No problem at all. They just left,” Enid answered easily.

  “That was fast. Must be a great company,” Finn murmured.

  “Are you ready to go home?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” Finn looked at my friends, his eyes glazing over once more. “It’s been weird, ladies.” He waved and returned to the living room to wait for me.

  I frowned. “Does the Eraser’s magic have aftereffects?”

  “It shouldn’t,” Tess said. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

  “Maybe he’s just stoned,” Siobhan offered. “He could have shared.”

  Enid snickered. “Maybe he was around a Muse for too long. That can make you feel a little buzzed.”

  “That’s not true,” Siobhan said defensively. “You know that’s just a myth.”

  “Guys, thank you for this wonderful party,” I said before Enid could retort.

  “We’re glad you enjoyed it,” Siobhan said warmly. “I won’t even complain anymore that you let Tess finish helping you decorate.”

  “How nice of you,” Tess said drily. She held out her arms. “Group hug!”

  We closed in around Tess, Enid grumbling that adults shouldn’t still be doing group hugs. Tess shushed her immediately. When we parted, they disappeared without a sound.

  I met Finn in the living room and grabbed my keys from the hook by the door. “Where are your friends?” he asked.

  “They’re cleaning up the kitchen for me,” I lied. I hated that it was getting easier to be untruthful to my family.

  “That’s nice of them,” he said, shrugging into his coat.

  “It is,” I agreed. I motioned for him to exit and I followed, locking the door behind me.

  My stepbrother was quiet on the way back to his apartment, deep in thought.

  “Did you have a good time?” I asked.

  “What?” he asked, glancing at me. “I did. You have a lot of friends. They seem like good people.”

  “They are,” I said. “I’ve known most of them for a long time now it seems.”

  “What about childhood friends?” he asked.

  “I lost touch with them over the years,” I answered, lying again. The truth was that no one else had been magical when I was growing up and Mom had restricted my playtime with other children until I was old enough to understand not to use magic in front of mortals.

  “That’s kind of sad, don’t you think? You move back home and the only people you know in town are your family. You don’t have anyone to go to complain about how crazy we can be,” he said, a smile in his voice.

  “I’ll make friends.”

  “How? You work from home. You won’t even get to get out and meet people,” Finn argued.

  “I went to a yoga studio and made a friend just this very week,” I said indignantly.

  Finn snorted. “You want to be friends with a hippie?”

  “She’s not a hippie. It just helps her relax,” I said, defending Abby. “She’s a nice person. She’s a middle school special needs teacher.”

  “Hmm,” Finn said thoughtfully. “No, she’s a hippie.”

  I reached over and pulled off his hat. “You take that back!”

  “Hippie! Carmen’s hanging out with dirty hippies!” he said, laughing.

  I rolled down the window and held his hat outside like it was my hostage. “You take it back!”

  “No, not my hat! Not one of my dozens of hats!” he cried.

  Laughing, I gave him back his hat and rolled up the window. He hastily put it over his thinning hair. “Fine, she’s not a hippie. I’m sure she’s one of the normal people who do yoga, but I swear, if I come around you and you’ve stopped taking showers and start asking me to hug a tree, I’m going to drag your ass to hippie rehab.”

  “They don’t have a hippie rehab,” I pointed out.

  “Sure they do. It’s in a basement where I tie you to a chair and make you watch the news, commercials featuring meatball subs, and you listen to Metallica. I’ll only need twenty-four hours to convert you back to normal.”

  “I can see how that would convert a person,” I said.

  “Damn right. This is my turn, by the way.”

  Turning left, I noticed the street lights had faded and it was practically pitch black. When we approached Finn’s apartment building, I had to wiggle my nose to get a few porchlights to turn on just so that I could see the building numbers.

  “This is a pretty private area,” Finn mumbled.

  “Must be,” I agreed.

  “This is me,” he said. He hopped out of my sedan and stood next to the door for a moment before ducking his head back inside. “It’s good to have you back,” he said softly before closing the door.

  I watched my stepbrother walk to his apartment, making sure his way was well-lit.

  Jab, cross, burpee!”

  “Why don’t you jab, cross, and burpee?” I muttered, dropping to the ground to do a push up. I jumped my feet toward my hands before leaping upward, my hands outstretched in the air.

  Abby panted in response as she drove her jab into the heavy bag in front of her.

  She had texted me the day before and invited me to her cardio kickboxing class. We dove right into instruction and I had to admit that it was love at first sight for me. The red-and-gray gym was large, bright, and clean with several rows of different types of punching bags hanging from a well-constructed metal rack. The instructor had proudly told me before class started that he had welded it together himself before sliding the waiver of liability across his desk for me to sign.

  Class was almost over and we were doing a burnout session. My arms felt like lead hanging by my side and my hair was so drenched with sweat that it looked like I had just gotten out of the shower. I certainly didn’t smell that way.

  The timer buzzed loudly and all movement halted immediately. I was breathing heavily, but I felt wonderful. I followed Abby to the bleachers where we had set our belongings. Parents were beginning to fill them up as they filed in to watch their offspring train for the children’s class that would start in ten minutes. “Excuse me,” I said to a parent, motioning for him to move his feet. He lifted them slightly and I grabbed my gym bag.

  “Good class?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered, fishing out a towel and wiping sweat from my forehead.

  “I’m just here to watch my son, Alfred. His mother is out with her boyfriend now.”

  “That’s so nice that you let your wife have a side piece,” I said, smiling brightly.

  Abby’s face reddened and she briskly walked away. She was already in the locker room by the time I caught up to her, bent over with laughter. “I cannot believe you said that to that man!” She gasped.

  “Who hits on someone at the gym?” I asked.

  “You’re sweaty. You look like crap. You definitely don’t have a nice scent on you. I’d say you’re at your worst. If he hits on you at your worst, then I say go for it because he’ll think you’re a goddess with dry hair and fresh deodorant.”

  “Who are you calling
stinky?” I asked, feigning anger. “I think I smell like a daisy.”

  “Yeah, one that’s still a seed buried under layers and layers of earth and some of those layers are poop,” she replied. She dug out her toiletries and went into one of the shower stalls. She closed the curtain and the water came on, quickly followed by a squeal. “Takes a little while for this warm up!” she shouted.

  While waiting for the water to get warm in the next stall over, I retrieved my own toiletry bag. I stuck a toe inside the curtain and, finding it to be suitable, began to shower.

  “Did you sign a contract?” she asked.

  The lather from my shampoo dripped down and I wiped it off my cheek. “Not yet.”

  “I like how it’s a flat fee for the entire month instead of the punch card that the yoga studio uses.”

  “That is appealing to me,” I admitted.

  “I think I’m going to drop yoga once my card is full. You’re the first decent person I’ve met and I’ve been going there for months.” There was a faint squeak as she shut off her water. “I know why I started going there. Why did you? That doesn’t seem like your kind of place. I don’t mean any offense because I don’t know you that well, but I’m just curious.”

  I finished my shower and reached for my towel. It wasn’t on the hook by the stall. Instead, it was lazily draped over my bag and I beckoned for it. “Get over here,” I whispered furiously. It dropped off my bag and hovered over the floor for a moment before floating over to my outstretched hand. Drying myself off, I answered, “I just moved back into town. It was a new place. I thought I’d try it out.” I thought about what Finn had told me. “I work from home, so the opportunity to meet people is slim. I guess most yoga people aren’t my kind of people either.”

  Dressed, I pulled back the curtain and found Abby squeezing excess water out of her short hair. She slathered some curl cream into her palm and rubbed her hands together to spread it before slicking her hands back through her hair. “I was going for the increased flexibility. I think I wind up more irritated by the time I leave,” she said. She stuffed the rest of her belongings into her bag and I followed suit. I hurriedly French braided my own shoulder-length hair and regretted not drying it as soon as we faced the harsh wind outside.