Get Witch Quick (Wicked Society Book 1)

by Daisy Prescott

  “No one gets an owl,” he says drily.

  “What about a cat? Do I pick out my own black cat or will one randomly follow me home and adopt me?” I crawl backward to rest my head on the pillows.

  “Do you want a cat? We can go to the shelter and rescue one, but we should check with Geoffrey about their pet policy. You could borrow Mildred from Dr. Philips.” His voice is teasing, but I’m certain he’d help me get a cat and probably smuggle it into the headquarters if that would be my heart’s desire. Because Andrew loves me and I love him right back.

  “Thanks, but wouldn’t it be strange to borrow another witch’s familiar? I’d think it would be forbidden, or at least socially unacceptable. And wouldn’t Mildred just spy on us and report back to him?”

  “You’re right on the spying part. That cat cannot be trusted. As far as the rules, you’d have to ask the coven. No one else I know has a familiar,” Andrew explains.

  “Why not?” Now I’m wanting an animal sidekick who is so bonded to me we can communicate without word. So cool.

  “Too old school.” He traces a swirling line over the skin of my arm. “Or something. You’d have to ask my mother. Or Philips, if he hasn’t already left for his annual summer stint on the Cape at his family’s beach house.”

  Imagining our stuffy English professor wandering the dunes of the Cape in one of his old-fashioned tweed jackets makes me laugh. An idea hits me and I sit up. “Do you want to come to my parents’ today? You haven’t met them yet. Dad will squeeze your hand too tight and try to peer into your mind to make sure you have honorable intentions with his only daughter. Mom will ask too many questions and tell embarrassing stories about all of my awkward phases growing up.”

  “You’re really selling this interrogation followed by birthday cake.” He smirks and drags a finger up the inside of my calf. “I doubt you’ve had a string of awkward phases. You’re beautiful and unique.”

  “Unique could be code for awkward. You missed my brief but intense One Direction fangirl phase. Let’s just say it’s a good thing I was too young to get a tattoo.” I freeze my face into a serious expression, complete with intense stare to warn him off asking follow up questions.

  “Is there photographic evidence?” Shifting to his side, he props himself up on an elbow.

  “Not if I can help it.” We need to move away from this topic. “Gram will be there, too. I know she’d love to see you again.”

  His finger stills. “I’d love to go with you. How is Celeste?”

  “She’s doing well. The spells of protection at the farm appear to be holding. No more intruders or grave robberies.”

  Less than a year ago, fainting spells were the only kind of spells I’d experienced. Grave robbers existed only in books or the Haunted Mansion ride at Disney World. Simpler times, or at least more naïve to the magic all around me.

  My dad’s mother is a direct descendant from two families caught in the Salem witch hysteria. Not only does she make the best cookies, she’s a witch and the keeper of the Corey and Bradbury family secrets, including protecting the hidden graves of my ancestors on the family farm.

  As her granddaughter, I’ve inherited the family genes. I’m a witch, too, but a baby witch learning her powers. Definitely in the wobbly toddler stage of controlling my magic. If I had a broom, it would have a “student driver” sticker on the back.

  Sadly, we’re not the kind of witches who fly around on brooms. Unless no one has revealed that fun fact yet. There’s so much I don’t know.

  “Good. I’d love to see her again. I should bring a gift for your father. What does he like?” A genuine earnestness brightens Andrew’s question.

  “You don’t have to get him anything,” I reassure him. “He’ll protest over each gift, saying it’s too much and he doesn’t need it.”

  “I don’t want to show up empty handed.” Growing serious, he lowers his voice. “It’s important to me to make a good impression.”

  He melts my heart. Thinking for a moment, I come up with a short list. “He likes golf, the Red Sox, and the Bruins. Although, he oddly hates Tom Brady. Loves Dunkin’ Donuts. He’s your basic New England dad.”

  Andrew nods. “Should be easy to pick up something today. How about tickets to a game at Fenway?”

  “Those are impossible to get. Unless you’re willing to spend a chunk of money. Tickets would be too much, way too much,” I protest, but he silences me with a finger pressed to my lips.

  “Not impossible. My father’s secretary has connections. I’ll give her a call and it’ll be done. I think there’s a series with Yankees mid-summer. Those are always a fun time.”

  My mouth pops open as I gawk at him.

  “What?” He stares back, mirroring my open mouth gaping.

  “Your father. Do you really want to contact him?” My skin pebbles with alarm.

  Andrew strokes his warm hand down my arm. “No. And I’m not going to. His secretary likes me. She’ll happily help me out and, if I ask, won’t mention it to my dad.”

  “Are you sure?” Doubtful involving his father in anything is ever a good idea, I have to ask again. “We can swing by Dunks and buy my dad a Red Sox travel mug and a gift card. He’d be thrilled.”

  “Why not both? Please let me do this. Seeing my father at graduation yesterday was unpleasant, but keeping up appearances of the status quo will keep him off our trail. Cutting off contact completely will only create suspicion. We don’t need him discovering our summer plans in Boston.”

  He makes a good point. “Does he know about the Society?”

  A small crease appears between his dark brows. “Not that I know of. It’s possible. He knew my mother was a witch when he fell in love with her and he’s not completely ignorant about the existence of the coven. If witches are in Salem, logically they must be in other places, too. Even if he’s heard rumor, I doubt he knows details like location or who is a member. Ironic given he lives less than a mile away from the headquarters.”

  “Don’t underestimate him. No offense, but your father’s picture is in the dictionary next to dastardly.” I scowl at the memory of the strange sensation of someone pressing on my brain from inside my skull whenever Stanford Bradford stared at me yesterday.

  I’m not, not saying he’s evil, but there’s a reason Andrew changed his last name to his mother’s name, Wildes, and dropped Bradford. Stanford is obsessed with money and status and society—the blue blood, stuffy kind. Oh, and he’s probably behind the curse on Andrew last year that had him acting like a toad boy, aka a complete asshole.

  “I agree with you, one-hundred percent. Can we stop talking about that half of my DNA? There are other, much more enjoyable things we could be doing instead.” He kisses my shoulder while slowly sliding his hand up my thigh toward my hip. “Hey, why aren’t you wearing underwear?”

  Two

  Unlike Sarah’s Victorian, my family’s house is a more modest and boring faux colonial built in the nineties…the 1990s. Where Salem is all charming streets and infamous history, the place where I grew up is quaint but unremarkable like many towns in Massachusetts. No battles were fought here and no one famous was born here. Solidly middle class and boring.

  Andrew parks his car behind mine in my parents’ driveway. I notice Gram’s car on the street in front of the house. I’m glad she’s here and hope we can get a minute to catch up because I can’t talk to my parents about anything to do with magic or ghosts.

  When I texted my mother earlier to tell her I’m bringing Andrew and to hide any embarrassing photos, she responded with “lol.” That’s it. Not at all comforting. I shouldn’t have warned her. Who knows what sort of shrine to my awkward youth she’s erected in the living room during the last hour?

  “Ready?” I ask Andrew as we both get out of our cars. “It isn’t too late to turn back.”

  He grins at me. “Why would I want to do that? I’m all in, Madison. Nothing is going to scare me away.”

  I melt at his words. He’
s a master at making me swoon. Slipping my arms around his waist, I hug him. “How did I get so lucky?”

  “How many times do I need to remind you I’m the lucky one?” He brushes his lips over mine, softly, barely there but enough to send ripples of excitement through my entire body.

  I stand on my toes to deepen the kiss, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He kisses me back for a moment but his smile makes it difficult to continue.

  “Why are you smiling?” I ask

  He grins and tries to kiss me again. “I love how normal it is to be kissing you in a driveway in the suburbs.”

  “Normal is a good thing?” I need to double-check because our lives are anything but typical.

  “A very good thing. Reassures me we can have a future together no matter what dark magic is thrown at us.”

  Right. Curses and hexes are our reality. So much worse than my old worries about which frenemy on campus is talking behind my back or conspiring to steal my boyfriend. Unless, of course, that frenemy is Lucy Putnam, who may or may not be a witch, who may or may not be evil, and who may or may not be a cat. I’m leaning toward evil cat or at the very minimum, misguided and a poor judge of character with some serious role-playing tendencies.

  “Enjoy the normal while you can. I have no idea what nuttiness my parents will have planned now that you’re joining us.” Dropping my arms, I step away. “Ready?”

  “Can’t wait.” His grin doesn’t fade and his pale eyes crinkle.

  He’s handsome always, but happy, smiley Andrew might be my favorite.

  “Come on then.” I lead him up the walk to the house. With a deep inhale, I open the front door and call out, “Hello, I’m home. We’re here.”

  When I left for college, Mom updated the floor plan, creating an open flow. From the entry hall, I can see straight through the house to the family room in the back. The living room is empty and so is the dining room. Soft music plays over hidden speakers, but there isn’t any chatter from conversations. That’s strange.

  “Hello?” I ask as I walk toward the kitchen abutting the family room. “This isn’t a surprise party so you don’t need to hide.”

  No one is in the kitchen, but bowls of Chex mix and chips line the granite counter of the island. Evidence of party prep fills the double sink. A large white cake box sits on the counter next to the fridge.

  “Where is everyone?” I ask rhetorically, because how would Andrew know.

  He sets the gift bag holding the Red Sox mug and gift card next to the cake box. “Maybe they’re outside?”

  Laughter blows in through the window over the sink. “I think you’re right.”

  I walk over to the French doors in the family room. Peering through the glass, I’m greeted with the sight of my grandmother tossing a bean bag at a sloped board in the middle of the backyard. “What the hell is going on?”

  Andrew steps behind me, pressing his front to my back as he peeks over my head. “Looks like they’re playing cornhole.”

  “I can see that, but why?” I slide open the glass door and exit. “Since when is this a thing?”

  Mom’s sitting in a chair at the outdoor dining table in the shade of the oversized umbrella with a smile on her face, happily watching Dad and Gram play.

  “Madison!” She jumps up and hugs me. “They’ve been playing with your dad’s present all morning. Hi, you must be Andrew. Oh, you’re handsome!”

  With an awkward laugh, Mom attempts to remove her sunglasses, but ends up bobbling them before managing to catch them.

  Andrew stands a few feet behind me, an amused smile on his lips.

  I make the quick introductions and he shakes my mom’s hand.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, genuinely.

  “Same.” Mom slides her sunglasses into her dark bob and gives him a wide grin. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not jealous my mother-in-law got to meet Madison’s boyfriend before I did. However, she has said nothing but nice things about you. According to her, you’re perfect.”

  “Celeste is a force,” Andrew says, the words a compliment.

  He’s right. She may be a little gray-haired grandmother, but she’s fierce.

  “That she is. I think she’s a ringer with cornhole, too. She hasn’t let my poor husband win a single round.” Mom picks up her glass of iced tea. “Let’s go put him out of his misery.”

  We follow her down the couple of steps from the deck to the flat lawn that makes up the backyard to the woods bordering the property line.

  “Mad Munchkin!” Using my nickname from when I was five, Dad strides across the grass to pick me up and hug me.

  “Happy birthday, Dad.” I hug him back and kiss his cheek.

  He lowers me to the ground. His goofy smile fades slightly. “You must be Andrew.”

  “I am.” Andrew shakes his hand and they assess each other. It’s not awkward, but there’s definitely an uptick in tension.

  “Are you having a good day?” I address my dad, but step closer to Andrew. He doesn’t need protecting, but it makes me feel better. Meeting my parents is the final big step in our new relationship.

  Dad flashes another grin at me. “Best birthday ever.”

  “Even though you’re losing to Gram?” I grin up at him, noticing a little more gray in his dark hair where the sunlight highlights it.

  “I’m letting your grandmother beat me,” he fake whispers loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “If you didn’t notice, I’ve been throwing with my non-dominant hand. Not my fault you’re terrible at this game.” Gram nudges her way between us to hug Andrew. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

  Laughing when she hugs me next, I give her an extra squeeze before releasing her. In a world that doesn’t make sense anymore, her love still grounds me. I’m grateful for this day with my family, and happy Andrew is with me.

  Dad huffs, but it turns into a chuckle. “In that case, I’d like my birthday cake now.”

  “Before dinner?” Mom asks in disbelief.

  “I think I’m old enough to risk ruining my appetite, don’t you?” He lifts an eyebrow in challenge.

  “Fine. I’ll bring the cake and ice cream out here. We can open presents later.”

  When Mom closes the door behind her, Dad turns to face me with a toothy grin. “See? Best birthday ever.”

  “Andrew, care to play me in cornhole while Madison helps her mother with the birthday cake?” As if her hint isn’t blatant enough, Gram jerks her head toward the door.

  “Of course.” I know when I’ve been dismissed.

  “I’m going to sit on the deck and try to figure out how you’ve been cheating.” Dad’s smile is full and happy.

  I swear my grandmother mutters something about not wasting her magic, but it’s too low to hear clearly and I can’t ask for clarification in front of my parents.

  Inside of the kitchen, Mom has stacked five plates on the counter and is counting out forks from the drawer.

  “I still don’t know if it’s better to serve cake and ice cream with forks or spoons.” She glances up at me. “What do you think?”

  “Sporks?” I ask, opening the freezer and pulling out the pints of ice cream.

  “Now there’s an idea.” After piling both forks and spoons on top of the plates, she steps closer to me. “Thanks for bringing Andrew today. It’s nice to finally meet him in person. I know you don’t want to hear this because you’re twenty-one and all grown up, but I feel better spending time with the guy you’ll be living with all summer.”

  I may be an adult by all definitions but I can still be easily embarrassed by my mother. “We’re not technically living together. It’s a small dorm and Sam will be staying there, too, along with Andrew’s friend Tate. The four of us together. So it isn’t really like Andrew and I are living together, together.”

  Mom presses her lips into a thin line to suppress her smile. “Okay, whatever you say. Your dad and I lived together in college. Shacked up or lived
in sin. However you want to call it. You’ll get no judgment or guilt from either of us. And your grandmother appears to adore him. He’s passed that test.”

  Ignoring her declaration about she and my dad living in sin, I focus on the last sentence. “There’s a test?”

  “Celeste wasn’t my biggest fan at the beginning. When she first met me, she asked about my ancestors and family tree. Seemed disappointed I wasn’t from the right pedigree.”

  My attention shifts to her face. “Really? That doesn’t sound like Gram to care about that sort of thing.”

  Unless, of course, she was looking for witches in my mother’s family history. And if that were true, why?

  “I think she was being protective of her son. Once you were born, she changed. You had her wrapped around your tiny finger the moment she held you.”

  Did she know I was a witch as soon as I was born? If so, then Celeste is not only a cornhole champion, she’s also the queen of keeping secrets. Because I’ve known for less than six months that I possess the ability to see ghosts.

  Glancing over my shoulder and through the glass doors, I see Gram and Andrew huddled in conversation near one of the game’s platforms. Gram meets my eyes and taps her finger to the tip of her nose.

  I wonder what other knowledge she’s been hoarding. After all, the secret book containing the lineage of witches in New England used to be hidden in her cellar. She swears she doesn’t know who hid it there or when it was moved to the Winthrop’s house. No one knew for sure the book still existed until I found it on the winter solstice last year.

  Following my mom out to the deck, I mull over these thoughts while I arrange the candles on Dad’s cake. Andrew and Gram join us to sing happy birthday. Mom lights the candles and tells Dad, “Make a wish.”

  Dad meets my eyes and for a beat we stare at each other before he blows out the candles. “If I could have one wish, it would be for Madison to—”

  “Don’t say it out loud or it won’t come true!” Gram admonishes, interrupting him and flapping her hands like she’s clearing the wisps of smoke that hold the remnants of his half-spoken wish. “Spoken words have power.”