by Ashley McLeo
“Don’t be silly,” Griselda sang. “We have a place set for you; have for nights now.”
“Oh.”
They stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway. Griselda pushed the thick mahogany open with surprising strength.
Selma gaped. The room was breathtakingly elegant, with a rich wood table surrounded by high backed chairs, another glittering chandelier, and a hutch housing precious china. Long, tapered candles strode down the table, weaving through platters of food. Aromas of roasted meat, caramelized sweet potato, and a hint of chocolate grew stronger and Selma’s mouth began to salivate.
“Selma!” Mary rose from a spot near the head of the table. To her left was a young woman about Mary’s age, wearing a bright red turban. Across from Mary was Shefali, the witch from the Faerie Fall Ball, clad in another amazing sari. A regal looking wizard sat at the head of the table where the high priest or priestess would reside, his ebony skin gleaming in the candlelight. There were more, but Selma’s vision suddenly blurred and she couldn’t focus on them. The adrenaline that had been keeping her moving had finally run its course. It was all she could do to remain upright and not grimace.
“Here, you can squeeze in at the corner next to me.” Mary, who had made her way around the table, took Selma’s arm to guide her. She took a too-quick step forward, causing Selma to trip and cry out in pain.
“Goddess be—are you alright?” Mary’s blue eyes flitted to where Selma gripped her thigh, newly damp from the blood soaking through the bandage. “Selma! Why are your pants wet? Are you bleeding? What happened!?”
“I—I got shot and apparently can’t wrap a bandage well.”
A curly haired brunette at the far end of the table from Mary’s seat stood up. “Did you say you got shot? Let me have a look.”
In an instant a coven dinner became a triage unit and Selma found herself sitting in a chair, her injured leg propped on another and her pants down around her ankles as the brunette examined her leg.
“You were lucky. There’s a lot of blood but it’s a graze wound. A healing spell, a couple stitches, and one of my special salves, and you’ll be fine. Here, let me run to the other room and grab my disinfectant.”
Selma nodded, relieved by the woman’s fast appraisal.
“How did it happen, Sel?” Mary asked, worry etched on her face.
Although Selma had known she would have to admit her wrongs when she came to the Sisters of Salem house now that it was time the words lodged in her throat.
“Does it have something to do with the magic leaking from you?” Shefali, who’d joined the healer and Mary at Selma’s side, prompted.
Selma bit her lip. Was it that obvious she’d lost control of her magic? That if she wasn’t paying full attention to it her magic would seep from her without her notice? Had it truly been doing so all along and she’d willfully turned an eye to her faults?
“It’s not obvious. You appear in control, but your power is very strong and seeking a way out,” the woman with the red turban said. “Sorry. I’m Jane, a ceremens or mind magic witch, whichever you prefer. Usually I don’t butt into people’s minds but you’re projecting pretty hardcore. Probably a result of the trauma. Anyways, while you were being examined all the men in this room had to leave. They said your power was low-grade, but still affecting them. Being supernatural they’re more attuned to what it felt like than humans. None particularly wanted to be enchanted.”
Selma sighed. There would be no more hiding, at least not with a bunch of supernaturals around. If she wanted to stay here, protected until she figured out where to go next, she would have to tell them everything. “It had everything to do with my magic. I lost control and didn’t notice . . . almost to the point of no return. I did things I’m not proud of. I fear that if I stayed out there, I’d slip into full on siren madness soon.”
Mary swallowed and grasped Selma’s hand. “I wasn’t sure, but worried . . . I thought if I could just get you here and have a second opinion . . . Goddess be, Sel, I’m so glad you came here. The coven will take you in for as long as you need to come to your senses. They’re a safe house. They’ll also be on the lookout for anyone you’ve enchanted for the next week or so, make sure no one is acting out of line. To be honest, they’ve already been doing so since the day all those men accosted you.” Mary paused and waited for her friend to express displeasure that Mary had taken Selma’s personal matters into her own hands; for Selma’s temper to make an appearance. When it didn’t happen, she continued. “You won’t be leaving here for a while. I did a little reading after that incident in the street, and a few weeks with no men and practice controlling your magic are key so you don’t harm yourself or others. There are methods sirens who live in cities or without large groups of supernaturals use. I’ll speak with the high priest; I’m sure the Sisters of Salem can find a local siren to teach them to you. But for now, do you want me to go get some of your stuff from the hotel so you feel more at home?”
Selma’s eyes widened. “You can’t! What if Vivienne is still there? My magic knocked her out and I left her there.”
Mary’s mouth set in a straight line. “Vivienne did this to you? I saw the papers and wondered how she would retaliate. Well, I’m not worried. If she’s awake I can use a shield spell and I’m not above stunning someone who tried to kill my friend. I can’t believe she went to such lengths!”
“She was desperate and angry. I felt the same way when I thought Andrew blew me off. Dios mio, how stupid I was over that man.” Shame washed over Selma as she thought of all the times she’d flaunted herself and her magic to make Andrew jealous. Even now, she didn’t understand why her magic had been infatuated with Andrew in a way it never had been with any other man. Undoubtedly, he had called to her power, just as her ancestors’ siren songs had to men at sea centuries before; and she’d fallen prey to her power’s insistence. In truth it had been an easy fall, Andrew being as handsome and charming as he was. Still, she sincerely hoped it was an infatuation that never happened again. She shook her head and fished her room key out of her pocket and handed it to Mary. “It’s the penthouse. All I grabbed was my purse so I’ll need clothes. I can pay movers to get the rest later because I sure as hell am not going back there.” A memory pinged into the forefront of her mind and Selma sat straight up.
“Is there a phone I can use? I told Rich I’d call him when I got to the hospital. I don’t want him to worry.”
“Rich?” Mary asked, her eyebrows raised.
“The Plaza bartender. He helped me to a cab.”
Mary grabbed the cordless phone sitting in the hall and handed it to Selma, who dialed the hotel’s number. A chirpy voice answered.
“The bar, please,” Selma said and the woman transferred her.
“Plaza bar, this is Richard,” a familiar, deep voice rumbled on the other end.
“Hi, Rich. It’s Selma. I’m calling to let you know I arrived at the hospital. The wound isn’t serious and they’re fixing me up now.”
“Good,” Richard breathed out. “Why don’t you stop by when you return to the hotel? I’ll whip you up a sangria on the house and you can tell me what the hell you did to yourself.” His tone was lighter now, relieved.
He’s probably imagining I stabbed myself with a kitchen knife trying to cook dinner or something.
“Umm, I’ll be staying the night here.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t serious?”
Selma rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. “It’s not but I spilled chicken juice all over it, and they want to watch me overnight to make sure it doesn’t get infected.” Selma invented wildly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, alright. Well, stop by whenever you get back. Thanks for calling. I hope you don’t get chicken juice infection. That sounds disgusting.”
She laughed. The sound was free and relaxed, out of place with the events of the night. “It certainly does.”
At her side Mary lifted an eyebrow and Selma’s cheeks w
armed.
Hurriedly, she went on. “But I suppose I should be getting some rest . . . I’ll see you later Richard,” she said his name softly, knowing this would be the last time she spoke to the charming bartender.
“Goodnight, Selma.” Richard’s voice held the same sad note, as if he realized it, too.
The Sisters of Salem
“The bartender, huh?” Mary asked as Selma hung up the phone.
“He’s just a nice guy.”
“Right.” Mary smirked.
Selma was about to reply when the brunette healer strode back into the room.
“Got your salve, a needle, and thread. I’m Macey by the way, figure you should know my name before I start poking at you. Now, let’s fix you up.”
“I’ll go get your things while Macey works,” Mary said, a familiar glimmer of mischief in her eye. “I’ll check in when I return.” She breezed out of the room, leaving Selma with no doubt she would check out Richard on her trip to the hotel.
Selma’s thoughts roamed, unsurprisingly, landing first on Andrew the mental image of whom no longer raised a stirring of passion inside her, only a heavy shame. Vivienne had clued Selma into the vast consequences of her actions, and her magic’s near takeover had woken her up to the dangers being in close proximity to someone it wanted too much could bring.
How much more destruction have I caused that I don’t even know about? What were the consequences of the actions I thought were all fun or deserved because one person wronged me? How childish I’ve been, how out of tune with myself. She sighed. Though she didn’t love the idea of being cooped up inside for weeks, she knew it was best she was here, safe behind magical wards, so the people she’d enchanted could recalibrate at the same time she did.
“All done,” Macey announced.
Her wound was clean and stitched together. The healing spell Macey had whispered before running a thread through Selma’s skin had worked marvelously. The site was already pink with new blood and magic.
“I didn’t even feel you putting in the stitches,” Selma breathed. She touched her thigh. “In fact, I can’t feel anything at all.”
“That’ll be the salve. My special blend of arnica and neem bark, better than any topical anesthetic on the market. The area will be numb for a while. Should also accelerate healing. The salus spell is helpful but it can only do so much. You’ll be good as new in a few days. I’ll give you a bottle of anti-scarring salve, too. You can apply it once the stitches dissolve.”
“Thank you.”
Macey waved a hand as if to say it was nothing and carried away her supplies and Selma’s bloodied bandages.
“Here, let me show you to your room. I’ll get the anti-scarring cream from Macey, and bring it to you later. You look like you should lie down.” Shefali, who had been assisting Macey, extended her hands.
Back on her feet once more, Selma marveled at how little the wound hurt. Shefali led her down the hall, taking most of Selma’s weight on her shoulder despite Selma’s insistence she didn’t need the help. They were halfway to the front door when she stopped.
“This will be your room. The kitchen is at the end of the hall, you already saw where we take our meals—that is—if you want to join us for meals. We eat breakfast and lunch on our own time and dinner together. Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen, it’s communal. When we run out of something write it on the paper attached to the refrigerator. Communal bathroom is right across the hall from your room. Most rooms have their own, though, so that one is all yours for the time being.”
Selma nodded. “Thank you. I can give you some money—”
“That’s unnecessary,” Shefali said opening the door to the room. “Any supernatural creatures in distress in the city are welcome here, as is anyone in the coven who can’t go home. It’s a safe house.”
Selma frowned. Though she couldn’t deny it, she didn’t like being thought of as in distress.
They walked into the room and Selma relaxed as the scent of lavender washed over her. The space was nothing fancy, but it was clean, comfortable, and designed with a healing aesthetic in mind. She glanced out the window and saw, to her surprise, a forest growing outside.
Shefali caught her eyeing the window. “We charm our windows because the view is so horrible. Who wants to look at someone else’s run-down home? This room is tailored to suit the person who stays here. Mary said you liked the forests of your home island. We’re not sure if we got the trees exactly right, but we tried . . .” Her voice tapered off, uncertain.
“It’s lovely,” Selma breathed.
Selma settled onto the bed where a plain set of pajamas were laid out for her. Then she pulled off her bloodied pants and changed.
“So, where were you thinking of going after this? I assume, after all that happened, you aren’t staying in New York? Oh, I know! We can brainstorm places for you to live!” Shefali’s hand flew to her mouth. “I mean—not that you have to leave soon. I hope I didn’t offend you. I just love talking travel.”
Selma laughed. “None taken, especially after all your coven has done for me. I’m sorry to be a burden. I know I’ll have to stay here until my magic levels out, but who knows how long that will take? Days? Weeks? It’s so frustrating.” She sighed. “As for where I’m going, I’m not sure. Until tonight, I figured New York would be my home, but now I see that this place isn’t right for me. I can’t resist the pressures of society here. It was too large a jump from my tiny Spanish village to this huge city. I might come back one day, but I’ve always wanted to see the west coast. They say it’s more laid back. All I know is I need a place with no men for a while. Men are the root of all my problems.”
“Men or your unwillingness to listen to your magic and others?” Shefali clapped her hand to her mouth again. “Oh my goddess, my big mouth.”
Another bark of laughter left Selma. She wished she had taken Mary up on her offer to meet this coven sooner. She was sure Shefali would have been a much better friend than Abby.
“No you’re right. It was how I acted that was the problem. I wanted too much too fast, a whole new, huge life, and my power agreed. It pushed for it, harder than I thought possible. I wasn’t used to having to pay so much attention to my magic, since I never had to back home. Either way, I need a break. To find myself more slowly. Work on what I really want and not get caught up in the bright lights of this city.”
Shefali nodded. “I get that. It will be good for you to be around magical beings, at least for a time. There are lots of co-living situations like that out west.”
Selma could see the appeal of a supernatural co-living situation. Already she was at home in the coven safe house. “Maybe. I have enough money saved to float for a little while to find the right space. Especially since I won’t be paying New York city rent prices anymore.”
“Amen to that.” Shefali pressed her lips to the side. “Do you need to rest? Or would you be up for a game? We have a few here.”
“Do you have cribbage?” Selma asked. It was a game she had often played with her brother and sister.
“Duh! Let me go grab it.”
A smile crept over Selma’s face as Shefali rushed out of the room. Suddenly, she was looking forward to her days at the safe house.
Mary bustled into the room two hours later, her arms brimming with a tired, old duffle and the bags of designer clothing Selma had purchased that morning.
Selma eyed the bags containing the gorgeous clothes she’d delighted in hours earlier and shook her head at the turn of events.
“Nice haul you had waiting by the elevator.” Mary raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d want them.”
Selma had figured the outfits would end up adorning the bodies of The Plaza’s maids. Although she loved them, she wouldn’t need them if she moved into the woods somewhere, or really anywhere besides New York.
“Was Vivienne still there?” Selma’s heart raced at the thought of Vivienne on the ground, knocked out. Or worse, coming to.
Mary’s gold hair swayed from side to side. “Gone. The only evidence something abnormal happened were two bullet holes. I worked a little magic and now they look like someone dropped something heavy on the ground.”
Vivienne took the gun. Good.
“However, I found someone else at the hotel,” Mary’s tone was ominous.
Selma’s heart rate spiked. Had Andrew been there waiting for me? Dios mio, did Mary tell him what happened? She bit her lip.
“Lifting all those bags had me parched, so I stopped by the bar for a drink. A nice bartender helped me.”
Selma rolled her eyes. Of course. “What did you say to Richard?”
Her friend’s eyes were playful now as she leaned onto the bed. “A wee bit of this, a bit of that. He recognized me from one of our nights out. I may have given him the coven phone number. Told him you’d moved from the hospital into a family member’s place because you couldn’t abide the smell of the hospital.”
“Mar!”
“What? Hospitals have a foul odor, don’t you think?”
Shefali gave Mary a look of warning. “While you were gone, Selma was saying she needed a break from men. It was her choice, and I think it’s a wise one.”
Mary visibly deflated and Selma could understand why. Richard was a good man. Still, she had to stick to her decision. Especially until her magic was under control. She grasped Mary’s hand. “He is a good man and there’s no doubt I’m attracted to him, but Shefali is right. I got myself into this mess because I was too focused on a man. I broke families and relationships as a result and could have destroyed myself. I’m taking a break and I might not be here when I start dating again. I was thinking about leaving the city—heading west. Somewhere with forests full of trees. The more I see them out the window, the more I realize I miss them. I’ll probably look for a magical community to live with at first, just to be safe.”
“I understand and think it’s smart, but I also think this guy is special, Sel. He really seemed to care about you. If he calls, talk to him. If only to appease his worry,” Mary said.
