Old Witch New Tricks

by Mara Webb

  Copyright © 2020 by Mara Webb

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Thanks for Reading

  Mailing List

  Old Witch New Tricks

  Wicked Witches of Pendle Island Book 5

  Mara Webb

  1

  “Look darlings, I can appreciate this is all a bit sudden, but let’s go inside and have a cup of tea, I can explain everything!”

  “You’re not explaining anything,” Rudy said as he turned around and marched down the porch steps. “I don’t want to see or talk to you! And as for you!” Rudy pointed at me, his finger suspended in the air for a moment as he tried to think of something to say. “Well, I’m not really mad at you, but I should have figured out that you are my sister. You’re certainly annoying enough!”

  “Rudolph!” Mom protested as he jumped onto his bike and kick-started the engine.

  “Cram it you old witch!” Rudy turned the throttle and his bike sped down the track leading away from my house, leaving me alone with my mother. A lot had happened in the last two minutes. I’d just walked into my house to find my mother in the kitchen, and learned she was planning on staying for a few weeks.

  On top of all that she’d just dropped the bombshell that I have a brother, none other than Rudy Malkin, one of the rudest troublemakers on all of Pendle Island.

  I turned and looked at my mother, giving her a look that could have made hell itself freeze over. “Really?” I said.

  “What?!”

  I rolled my eyes and walked back inside, leaving her to follow me. I made my way back into the kitchen, grabbed the muffin basket from the counter and started stress eating. Mom shut the door and also came into the kitchen.

  “Well that could have gone worse,” she said, seemingly oblivious how chaotic her presence actually was on other people’s lives. I didn’t say anything at first, I knew that she was just trying to bait me into talking to her again. I scrunched up the wrappers from my first two muffins, unpeeled another and shoved it into my mouth.

  If I was eating, I didn’t have to talk to her. This was a tactic I commonly employed as a teenager when I found my mother especially insufferable. It worked for the most part, but also led to me putting on a few pounds too many.

  “Oh Chelsea, stop being such a drama queen!” mom said as she walked over to the kettle and started making a cup of tea. “You used to do this all the time when you were a sulking teenager, and we had to buy you a whole new wardrobe!”

  “Did not!” I protested through a mouth full of muffin. She was right of course, but I wasn’t going to let her be right. Not now. I was angry!

  “Yes we did! And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing! I figured it out a long time ago! I will sit here and talk at you until you have no cake left to eat!”

  “I’m a witch now,” I mumbled as I shoved another muffin into my mouth. “I can magic up cake nonstop!” I had to admit I was starting to feel sick though.

  “Don’t be a savage darling, a lady wouldn’t act in this manner.”

  “A lady?!” I shouted, spitting out muffin crumbs all over the place. “Who are you to lecture me on being a lady?! Just because you dress fancy and talk posh. You’re just as common as the rest of us! We’re Sponks women mom, we’re not high society! We’re common as muck!”

  She smiled and I realized I had taken the bait. Darn it. She’d suckered me in. If I was anyone else in this scenario, I really would be rather impressed. Mom had spent decades mastering the craft of manipulating people, and she really was the Michelangelo of being annoying.

  “I knew I could get you talking.”

  I gave up on the muffins, grabbed a glass of water and tried to put some moisture back in my mouth. There was no use in ignoring her, the woman was like glitter. Once she was in you just couldn’t get rid of her.

  “Can you even for one second just see things from my perspective?”

  Mom poured some milk into her cup, tapped the teaspoon delicately against the china and took a seat at the kitchen table. If there’s one thing you need to know about my mom, it’s that she is the kind of person that takes her sweet time doing anything.

  Take sitting down for example, most people just pick a chair and plonk their butt down. Not my mother.

  First of all you have to saunter over to the chair, taking care that your posture is rake perfect. You have to walk with your back straight and chin high, you might never know who is watching!

  Next you have to drag a finger over the back of the chair, and then silently roll your eyes to passively suggest that the place is in need of a good dusting. Once that is settled you pull the chair out. Set your cup and plate down. Take a seat in the chair, brush the creases out of your overly posh day dress, cross your legs and turn your cup so the handle is perfectly aligned with the table edge.

  If that didn’t take long enough then test the table for dust too. Just in case your host missed your first hint.

  “Darling, when did you last dust—”

  “I’ve charmed a duster to sweep the surfaces daily!” I fired back. It was a lie. My cat Artemis was on the kitchen table so much I knew there would be no dust. He was basically a talking feather duster.

  Mom ignored the comment, she took a sip of her tea, another seemingly innocent action that she broke down into a series of pointless minutia, and her eyes started to scan the kitchen, looking for other faults to point out.

  “I just don’t know why you always get like this sweetie,” she said. “You’re so riled up all the time. I thought you’d be glad to see your dear old mother!”

  “Of course I am happy to see you.” Really? “But mom, I told you. You can’t just drop into my life without warning. Look at all these cases!” I pointed to the dozen hot-pink suitcases scattered around my kitchen table. “It looks like you’re planning on moving in!”

  “Sweetums, please take no offense at this, but this house is barely tenable!” Mom gave a haughty laugh and took another sip of her tea, grimacing ever so slightly as she put the cup back down. Even the tea wasn’t good enough, and she made it!

  I stared at her. “Do you even hear yourself?”

  “Oh relax darling, I’m just winding you up! The house is perfectly… lived in.” Wow. That was almost a compliment. Not bad for my mom.

  “That was nearly nice. Have you been having lessons?”

  She nodded excitedly. “Joshua, a delightful little man that I met in Vegas. He’s an emotional therapist, he kept trying to fix me, said I was too critical. He says compliments keep the soul young, and well—” She sighed and pulled out a pocket mirror to regard her nearly flawless face. “My soul is starting to get old, angel.”

  “Mom, you are practically glowing,” I said. It wasn’t like she deserved any compliments on account of her behavior, but things generally went a lot smoother if I suckered up to mom’s vanity. Plus it was true, she was beyond the middle age mark now and could still easily pass for being in her thirties. I’d lost count of how many times someone
has mistaken her for my sister.

  “Chelsea you are very sweet, and I know your dear old mother is a fine catch, but the truth is that my age is beginning to catch up to me. Just the other day I saw my first wrinkle!”

  “Wow,” I said sarcastically. “Maybe people will finally stop assuming I’m your older sister.”

  “Oh Chelsea it’s not funny! My looks are very important, and once they start to go, I’m not long left for this world!”

  “Now who’s being dramatic?” I said.

  “Come now dear, you know how my magic works by now. To stay magical I need to fall in love over and over again, and to fall in love I need to be attractive! Without my looks I’m not attractive, without attraction I won’t find love, without love I won’t have magic, and without magic I’ll die!”

  “Can you just take a breather and relax? And you wonder why I’m stressed around you all the time? You’re just as bad as me, you just can’t see it!”

  My mom was an unusual type of witch, one that gained her power from the ‘honeymoon’ period of a relationship. I’d always thought she was just a maneater, but I now knew the truth. To keep her powers she had to keep falling in love, which is why she chewed threw men like there was no tomorrow.

  “How many times have you been married now?”

  “Seventeen,” she answered without missing a beat. “Hardly seems relevant, why?”

  “It’s extremely relevant, that’s exactly what we are talking about! How many times have you been engaged?”

  “…Fifty two. What is your point darling?!”

  “My point is that there is an endless supply of poor men out there that will fall in love with you for you. It’s not about your looks, and by the way, I don’t think they’re going anywhere fast. You still look better than me!”

  A smile curled on her lips, and I knew I had put the fear to bed for now. That was all she wanted to hear in the end: that she looked younger and better than someone several decades her junior.

  “Oh, I knew it was a good idea coming back here angel, I have missed you so!”

  “Don’t start, I’m still mad at you.”

  “For what?!”

  “Turning up out of nowhere and announcing that I have a brother. Yeah, we’re talking about that by the way. You can try all your usual tricks, but you’re not distracting me from this one.”

  Mom already looked completely bored by the idea. For a woman in her fifties she could make a moody teenage girl look reasonable at the best of times. “Chelsea, what is there to talk about?! I introduced you both, it’s up to you and Rudolph to kindle a relationship!”

  “I’m not worried about that part, it’s the fact that you kept it secret all these years.”

  “It’s not that grand darling, you’ve had plenty of siblings over the years!”

  “Step-siblings mom, that doesn’t count.” And step-siblings I have many. Many, many. Most of them I was never in the presence of, and the ones that I did live with it was never for more than a month or so before mom got bored of her latest flame.

  Quite recently I tried to sit down and count my unusual family. I got to nine step-fathers before I lost count and fell asleep. There are eight step-brothers to my knowledge and three step-sisters, all comprising a cavalry of children from the fleeting marriages my mother had while I was growing up.

  Most of them were nothing more than passing acquaintances, temporary play friends that I tried not to get too attached to because I knew my mom would be moving us on soon.

  She had always been very careful to avoid the word brother or sister, opting for ‘sibling’ instead. It got so bad that I thought ‘sibling’ meant friend until I was in college.

  Brother or sister though? She had never used that word, ever, so this was a very big deal.

  “Don’t try and pull the sibling line with me!” I said, jabbing my finger in the air. “This is a big deal and you know it is, even if you’re trying to go back on it now! Why didn’t you tell me I had a brother?”

  “Oh it just didn’t come up darling! Do we really have to have this whole ninth degree? Why don’t we go to a bar and talk to some boys?!” Her eyes lit up with excitement.

  “Look mom, I don’t want to do this, but there’s a question that you have been avoiding all my life—”

  “What about Harry’s on the dock. All the college boys used to go there. I bet that’s still a fun place to party!”

  “You would never answer any questions about dad. Why? You always said you don’t know who my dad is, but if you know Rudy is my brother then you must know—”

  “Or that Irish pub on Mayflower? Oh, they have the best potato skins there!”

  “Mom!”

  “Oh… for heaven’s sake Chelsea! When did you get so persistent?!”

  I stared at her long and hard, unwilling to budge on this question. “If you know the answer to this question then you should tell me. I deserve to know.”

  Mom slipped into her routine of fiddling. Brushing another non-existent crease from her dress, turning her cup again. “I don’t know who your father is. That wasn’t a lie.”

  “Then how can you know that Rudy is my brother?”

  She rolled her eyes once more and let out a very long sigh. “Because of the muse,” she muttered.

  “The what?” I leaned in, trying to hear her more clearly. My mom loved attention so always made sure to speak at a volume where everyone in a room could hear her. Mumbling and muttering was a rare instance, one that signified she had something deeply important to say, something that she usually didn’t want to volunteer.

  “Argh! So many questions! Moving back to this island has changed you! When did you get so nosy?!”

  “When my magic kicked in. Curiosity literally fuels my magic mom, just like falling in love fuels yours. I’m so curious right now I could probably lift this entire island out of the sea, now fess up! What’s the muse?”

  “Ugh, I do not like this new version of you,” she said, the words dripping with more melodrama. “But fine, if you have to know. Witches like me… we’re rare, you know that much.”

  “A Wailing Widow,” I said, recalling the name for her witch archetype. There were no official names or anything, but a popular magazine called Witch’s Digest once named the archetypes for an article and they just sort of stuck.

  “A dreadful name for it, by the way!” she said in disgust. “Why couldn’t they call me a Roaming Rose or something more poetic like that?”

  “Gee, I dunno, maybe we should pen a letter to the editor? Get to the point!”

  “Remember who you’re talking to!” She pulled her mirror out again to quickly check her eyeliner, which was on point—as always. With a huff she snapped the mirror closed and continued. “There’s this silly little idea that us Roaming Roses—”

  “Wailing Widows,” I corrected.

  “Fine, Wailing Widows,” she stuck out her tongue, as if the words themselves tasted bad. “There’s a theory that each witch of my type has a muse, a man that can permanently fulfill her magic, thus meaning she doesn’t have to spend her life moving from one man to another.”

  “Like a soulmate?” I asked.

  “Yes, I suppose that would be another way of putting it. Well, if you should know one thing about witches like me Chelsea, it’s that we’re not meant to be able to have children. It’s a curse within our curse.”

  “But you have two.” I blinked as something came to me. “Two, right? It is just two.”

  “Yes, it is just two, do not worry. There are no more hidden brothers or sisters.”

  “But how could you have children then, if you’re not meant to be able?”

  “Because it’s rumored that a Wailing Widow can have children, but only with her muse, her true soulmate. So you and Rudolph have to be brothers, there’s no two ways about it. I lived here on the island with Rudolph until he was fifteen.”

  “That’s when you kicked him out?”

  “I beg your pardon?! I would n
ever turf a child of mine out onto the street! He kicked me out!”

  “And then you came back a few years later, had me, and we both left the island. Mom, I’m not trying to call you stupid, but this should be pretty easy to figure out. How can you not know who the father is?”

  “Darling, I have to fall in love a lot to keep my magic, please don’t judge.”

  “I’m not judging, I’m just saying you must know who our father is.”

  She glanced off to the side, and I honestly couldn’t read her, which was unusual, because my mom’s poker face was pretty terrible. “Genuinely darling I do not, but I think I can whittle it down to three potential men.”

  “Mom!”

  “What?! My magic works in mysterious ways!”

  “Mom, you really cannot pick out the one single man that you think might be the love of your life?”

  Once again, she looked away from my gaze. This time I got the sense that she was definitely hiding something. “Feel free to pursue it if you like, but this is the definition of a riddle with no answer!”

  “It literally isn’t. Won’t Rudy know?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I raised him myself. You know I never got over him kicking me out, the little brute!”

  I loved my mom, god bless her I did, but after growing up with her I could completely understand why Rudy would do such a thing. It was amazing he managed to last fifteen years. I’d ran away from mom several times when growing up, but never quite had the strength to make it on my own.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way mom, but it’s hard growing up in a different family every week, constantly moving around, never knowing your place. You must know it’s not easy.”

  “Darling, try living it. If I could find a man and settle down…”