by Lucy True
Shoving lewd thoughts aside, Burgundy nodded, even though she wasn’t sure Charlotte could see the motion. “Right. Anyway, here’s the thing – apparently, I’m really good at... um... warlockcraft? Warlocking? Certain aspects of magick come effortlessly to me and now I know why, thanks to my father.”
“Okay, I know you probably already considered this, but is there any chance your father can teach you more? Or is this imprisonment thing with the Witches Council kind of forever?”
“From what I can gather, they’d been after him for a while, so I think the odds of me ever seeing my father again are pretty much somewhere in the range of zero to none. I had my chance, though, and I blew it.” Even now, Burgundy couldn’t forget the offer her father made to her: If you come with me, I’ll show you the path you were born to travel.
She could have gone with him and learned how to use her power. Could have, but chose not to, thinking... Hell, she didn’t know what she was thinking at the time. Maybe that he was wrong. Or right, but that she’d have a better shot at a future by not becoming a wanted outlaw’s apprentice.
Charlotte’s hand met hers again, a reassuring touch. “Hey, it is what it is. So now what you have to do is figure out what’s right for you. What do you want and what’s stopping you from getting it?”
“Oh, the million-dollar question.” Burgundy chewed at the inside of her cheek and pondered. “I think what I want is just to be me. That’s all—to be what I am and not have to hide it or apologize for it, or look over my shoulder because I happen to be the wrong W-word. Aunt Iris wants me to go to the Council on my birthday and declare the domestic path, which is basically the catch-all place for witchy failures. And then there’s the Finder who doesn’t come across all fascist-like or anything, who probably already suspects that I’m not a witch, but can’t prove it. Yet.”
Each admission continued to lift the weight from her shoulders and Burgundy leaned forward, hands pressed to the cold, hard ground. It wasn’t as nice as having them on Charlotte, but she must have needed it. Every last ounce of jittery energy drained from her and she let her body go with it, sprawled over her knees in a convoluted version of Happy Cow meets Child’s Pose. Why hadn’t she confessed all of this to Charlotte sooner? If she’d known it would feel this good to spill every last ounce of secret frustration, she wouldn’t have waited.
“Now that you’ve talked, can I tell you something?”
“Mm, please do,” Burgundy mumbled. “I think I managed to talk myself out for once.” She pushed herself upright, but kept her fingers against the earth, curling them into the moist, grainy dirt. Witches, she knew, drew their power from nature and the world around them. Even if she’d inherited her father’s powers, there was still some small spark of her mother inside her. Maybe, if she could see the woman who’d given birth to her, that spark might kindle into something more. Something that could solve every problem her warlock legacy presented.
“I’m kind of not surprised by what you told me. Not that I suspected this, but it was obvious to me that you weren’t a normal witch. No one is immune to my abilities, that I’m aware of, so I knew there was something different about you.”
Burgundy rolled her eyes. “Great. So everyone got the memo already.”
The soft chuckle made her want to edge a little closer to Charlotte, to close the distance between them. “Not exactly. I guess my point is, you still pass as a witch and I think only someone who really paid attention would figure out that you’re not exactly what you ought to be, if that makes sense.”
“Are you suggesting I do what my aunt wants?” After the risk she’d taken, telling Charlotte everything, this wasn’t what Burgundy expected to hear. Her best friend was supposed to encourage her to defy authority, to shout “Damn the man!” and offer more chocolate.
But Burgundy caught the briefest flash of teeth nibbling on lip as Charlotte turned away from her, face hidden in shadow again. “Yeah, I am. I’m glad you finally said something to me, but after that Finder came into the diner today, you can’t be too careful.”
Give in. Give up. Never know who she really was. That was what Charlotte was telling her to do.
Burgundy also averted her gaze. The air she forced into her lungs seemed too cold for a March evening, yet it burned its way down, filling her with a pulsating ball of fire that refused to leave her chest when she exhaled.
“I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I’d rather see you live free and happy, than under constant scrutiny.”
“Live free and happy,” Burgundy echoed, “and live a lie. Because what could possibly be more freeing than that?”
When she looked again at Charlotte, the silvery moon illuminating the medicine woman’s misery-twisted features, she barely resisted the urge to reach out and hug her. It was Charlotte’s small, pained, “What other option is there?” that finally brought Burgundy within arm’s reach of the woman she loved.
Chapter Five
Saturday. Arguably one of the worst days of the week, since A. Burgundy had Sundays off and B. things had fallen back into their normal rhythm since Monday night. Which meant she spent Tuesday and Thursday at home with her aunt badgering her into dredging up sparks of witchy magick, trace by painful trace. Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday gave her the opportunity to get lost in her work at the library, but she could only find so many other reasons not to deal with Iris or the inevitable assessment by the Witches Council on her birthday.
She hummed to herself while shelving books. Anything to drown out the gloomy thoughts of spending the following day at home, with Aunt Iris dogging her every step.
Shelving wasn’t exactly her job. The assistants were supposed to handle such mundane tasks, but this was one of those days when Burgundy couldn’t sit still. The kind when she had to get up and wander the stacks, listening to the crinkle of dust jacket covers and inhaling the bookish smell. Tangible reminders of why she loved working at the library.
It wasn’t because her mother had worked here and it certainly wasn’t because of the mystery surrounding the library – the whispered urban legend that the librarians here never retired. They simply ceased to exist. Burgundy told people time and again that they were making something out of nothing. Plenty of librarians had worked here and simply gone on to other jobs.
Okay, one had gone on to another job – her mother. As for the others?
Burgundy frowned as she finished putting the latest Stephen King book on the shelf, her hand lingering on the thick, black spine. Sylvia, the children’s librarian, had been there since Burgundy could remember. She had a vague recollection of the one who worked upstairs, which made her wince. Considering all the time spent in the adult fiction and non-fiction sections, searching for books to use for high school reports, this was the kind of thing she ought to remember.
But even trying to call up a vision of the person who’d tended the front desk left her with nothing but a hazy memory of a face. Rather than waste time musing on it further, Burgundy returned to the circulation desk and sank into the chair.
“Do you want to take lunch now?” Lynn asked. “The guy I’m going out with tonight texted that he was hoping to have an early dinner. If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave before close.”
“Going out with a guy?” If ever there was a distraction from her woes, this was it. Burgundy turned and propped her elbow against the desk. “I thought you had the hots for Mr. Knight.”
Lynn scoffed, a feline hissing sound that made Burgundy draw back. The woman didn’t unsheathe claws, though. She simply narrowed her eyes. “If you must know, he hasn’t shown any interest since that whole unfortunate Cupid incident. I think he might have more powerful feelings for me than he wants to admit, so I’m going to make him chase me.”
The way Lynn flipped her feathered hair made Burgundy bark out a laugh. Stifling it behind both hands, she nodded and cringed away from Lynn’s glare. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I have a hard time believing Mr. Knight wo
uld find you, uh, anything but irresistible.”
It seemed the words did nothing to mollify Lynn, because she turned away and muttered, “If I could leave early, I would appreciate it. Some of us are still capable of getting attracting a partner.”
Burn. Even though it’d been three months since her girlfriend dumped her, the reminder still had the power to hurt. Not that she’d exactly been pining for Jenna, the beautiful blonde succubus. Nope, not one bit.
“Go for it.” Burgundy pushed away from the desk and crossed the non-fiction section to the stairs without another word. Each step creaked as she descended into the basement. The closed door to Mr. Knight’s office was to her right, the kitchen they used as a break room to the left.
Almost as soon as she took a step toward the small kitchen, she smelled it – the earthy-sweet, after-rain scent of magick. Of all the places in Rock Grove where one could expect to find magick, the library wasn’t it.
Mr. Knight was their longtime director and certainly not a magick-user. Thanks to the incident last fall, Burgundy had confirmed her boss was a vampire, which finally explained why they rarely saw him during the day, if out of his office at all.
So where the heck is the smell of that magick coming from? She stared at the door, tensed and leaning forward. Maybe there was a way to differentiate, to further identify precisely what the magick was or where it originated. But the time she’d asked her aunt about sniffing out witchy energy, Iris brushed it off as impossible.
“Magick can only be detected by means of a spell. Don’t forget that,” she’d said before huffing as if the question was a personal affront to her. In a way, Burgundy supposed it was. If this was something only warlocks were capable of, but witches weren’t, that might go further to explain the animosity between them.
Regret formed a ball in her stomach, bitter and heavy. Once again, she thought of what could have been, if only she’d accepted her father’s invitation. She’d know so much more and she certainly wouldn’t be here, waiting for the inevitable examination and admission of failure that’d follow, all in front of the Witches Council.
Mr. Knight’s door opened without a sound and Burgundy stumbled back as her boss filled the doorframe, dark eyes glaring down at her. No, not glaring, for once. Merely questioning. And that scent of magick? It came out of the room in a rush and then there was nothing.
No, it lingered, but... below the basement? Burgundy inhaled and opened her mouth to speak.
“May I help you, Miss Hart?” Mr. Knight spoke smoothly with an Irish brogue that left no doubt as to his origin. Or at least where he’d spent most of his life. Unlife? Burgundy had never been disrespectful enough to inquire about her employer’s past. Becoming a vampire was messy enough, according to what little lore existed in the supernatural community. Crossing one wasn’t exactly on her list of things to do.
And lying to one was just as disrespectful, so Burgundy looked for the most tactful way to say what she had to say. She finally gave up.
“I’m sorry, but I smelled magick coming from your office and now, well, I think it’s still coming from somewhere underneath it.” When Mr. Knight remained silent, Burgundy babbled on, “Impossible, I know, because this is the basement and the lowest floor in the building, but there’s something underneath us. You might want to look into it.”
Mr. Knight’s lips moved into an expression Burgundy saw rarely – a smile – and then, even rarer, was the sound that came from between them. He laughed. It was a chuckle, really, a gentle, playful sound. “Of all the things I expected from you, young lady, I never thought it would come to this. You looking out for me the way I’ve...” His voice trailed off and Mr. Knight tilted his head to one side as if listening.
Burgundy supposed he could be, considering the superior senses vampires were rumored to have. This certainly wasn’t the boss she knew, blunt and cold. Nor was he under the effect of magick, unlike the time the Cupid arrow had struck him and rendered him incapable of surviving without the first person he laid his eyes on.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asked, the ball in the pit of her stomach spreading its heat throughout her limbs. This didn’t seem like Mr. Knight at all, warm and chuckling, and she finally took a heavy step back.
“I’m fine, but I think now isn’t the time for you to snoop. Give it a few days, would you? Don’t want to ruin any surprises.”
“Surprises?” Burgundy tried to remember a time her boss had been cryptic and came up empty. If last fall has been frustrating, spring was looking downright weird. Between the secret she still had to keep from the entire town and the presence of the Finder... Burgundy blew out a breath. “I’m not sure I can handle being threatened with surprises.”
“You say that now, but I assure you it’s a promise, not a threat, and it’s a promise you’re going to appreciate when the time is right.” Mr. Knight made a shooing motion with his hand. “Go on. Have that early lunch so Lynn can get on with that date tonight. You’d be doing me a favor by letting her find someone to transfer those affections to, if you catch my drift.”
Oh yes, Burgundy caught his drift and was glad he’d confirmed a lack of interest in Lynn. Anything else would be far too awkward.
But that still didn’t explain why the ground floor of the library smelled like magick, something only one person in the entire building was capable of producing.
Chapter Six
“That doesn’t sound at all like Mr. Knight. He’s not usually vague about stuff. What the heck was he trying to tell you?” Charlotte tossed a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in her mouth, earning applause from Burgundy.
They meandered down Main Street side by side, taking in the spring festival. Burgundy wasn't one to pass up Rock Grove’s seasonal celebrations. What better way to bond with the residents of their small, supernatural town? It helped that they kept the tiny white lights strung along Main Street year-round and that the posts on every corner had upbeat 1950s music playing from their speakers.
Burgundy knew very few towns like this still existed, especially for supernaturals. She couldn’t imagine herself ever leaving Rock Grove or the people in it, and the thought of a Finder skulking around turned her stomach. What if one of her neighbors said or did the wrong thing? They didn’t deserve the Council’s wrath and the idea that they might receive it because she simply existed in this town...
She swallowed, which only exacerbated the heavy pit forming inside her. But after a bracing breath of the fresh, late March air, found her voice.
“Maybe he was trying to tell me to lay low for a while, though I can’t imagine why. It’s not like he knows. In fact, there are all of three people who know the truth – me, you, and Aunt Iris. Well, four, if you count Arthur as a person.”
Charlotte elbowed her. “Six if you count your parents, because your father certainly knows and your mother must know.”
“Oh.” Burgundy stopped in her tracks as cold washed over her. “Oh,” she repeated and reached out to grasp Charlotte’s wrist. “Last year during that whole thing, I found an email from my mother to Iris, telling her how important it was to continue to raise me as a witch. Of course she knew, and I don’t know if she dumped me on her sister to protect me or because she was ashamed of me.”
“That’s a terrible—”
“Stop. Don’t.” Burgundy shook her head. She already knew where her friend was going with all her sweetness and compassion. “I appreciate you giving my mother the benefit of the doubt, but think about it. She left this town to become a Finder with the Witches Council. Why did she do that? Was that what she always wanted? If it was, then having a child like me would have screwed that up for her. I’ve spent so much time wondering why my parents left me with Iris and now it’s all coming together. Jeez, how did Cian and Lily even find each other? How did she fall for someone like him?”
Burgundy flapped her hands at her sides, aware she probably looked something like a frantic, oversized bird. But she couldn’t help it. Getting pas
sed off to a family member by her own parents was bad enough. Gaining more insight into what motivated her mother’s decision was worse.
“Now it’s my turn to tell you to stop.” Charlotte chucked the container with the remaining kernels into a nearby wastebasket and rested both hands on Burgundy’s shoulders. “We need to do something fun to alleviate this freak-out you’re having. Remember when we were kids and we would go to Martha’s produce table and try to find vegetables that looked like body parts? Let’s do that.”
Burgundy coughed out a laugh. “You’re kidding. That was, like, fifteen years ago.”
“I know, but come on. A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste.” Charlotte tugged on her hand until Burgundy went along, one foot placed in front of the other, her boot soles scraping along the sidewalk. “Wow, can you be any less enthusiastic?”
“Yes.” Burgundy picked up the pace until they reached the table where Martha had her homegrown wares on display.
The woman looked up at them, mane of abundant, snow-white hair contained in a thick braid. Even though she appeared to be in her sixties, her six-foot frame remained as imposing as ever. Her blue eyes locked on both Charlotte and Burgundy. “Hello, girls, how are you?”
“Girls? Are you still going to call us that when we’re in our thirties?” Burgundy asked. Even though Martha was an Amazon and deserving of respect, Burgundy couldn’t help but wonder about her sometimes.
“I don’t know,” Martha shot back. “Am I always going to be more than double your age, girls?”
Charlotte nudged Burgundy and chuckled. “She has a point. Here, look at the carrot.” The vegetable Charlotte reached for resembled something Burgundy didn’t really want to consider. That mix of fire and ice still weighed her down, keeping her from finding humor in the phallic vegetable.
