Borage

by Gill McKnight

  “Our friend has just come out and you’re hung up on health and Safety? It’s Astral who needs the talk. She needs to know about trichomoniasis and bacterial vaginosis—”

  “Don’t say things like that in my shop. You’ll traumatise Merryman.”

  Come out? Understanding dawned. “Dulcie, I’m not coming out—”

  “Look, he’s flying away.” Dulcie wasn’t listening. “I hope you’re happy. Go after him.”

  Astral tried again. “Okay, so I kissed my boss who happens to be a woman. The charm powder got on my hand and—”

  “I wasn’t the one who left the window open,” Damián whined in the background.

  “Dulcie? Oh, never mind.” She’d run out of time. Fergal was heading down the office towards her, hands in pockets jingling his loose change. “I’ve got to go. Come over to my place for dinner later.” Exasperated, she ended the call.

  “How’d it go?” Fergal said, as he nodded towards Abby’s office.

  “Okay, I think,” she said coolly. Nothing would have happened if he’d done his job in the first place. And now here she was, completely at sea, horrified that her boss— her boss—had kissed her. And all because of a half-baked sorcerer’s silly little charm. There were rules, after all. Rules about bosses and staff. Power dynamics and harassment and the like, whether she had wanted a kiss or not.

  Wait. Had she? Her head swam. She must have, because of the type of spell it was. Abby could only mirror her own desires. And how had she even come to desire that? Did Damián’s spell somehow cause completely inappropriate thoughts?

  This was beyond messy. She wasn’t sure there was a word for the kind of situation this was.

  “There’s me girl. Sure, I knew Abby would like you.”

  “Well, I’m not—”

  He wasn’t listening. He shut down his computer and pulled his car keys and several envelopes from the top drawer. “Home time fer me. I’ll see ye tomorrow morn’. I may be a little late in.”

  He casually stuffed the bulky envelopes into his jacket pockets, shoving the last one into the inner breast pocket. They completely distorted the dapper lines of his suit, but he seemed unfazed and strolled off towards the elevators. Astral watched him go.

  Once the elevator doors slid shut, she stood and casually rounded the desk and opened the drawer. The canvas bag lay empty and no doubt the contents were stuffed into the envelopes that were in turn stuffed into Fergal’s pockets. He’d walked out with what she guessed to be around twenty grand and she’d bet her favourite broomstick it was not his money. He was right back on top of her critter list.

  It had been a crazy afternoon. She decided not to launch into a new piece of work but head to the kitchen and reclaim her Tupperware. The bread she had given to Ms Black was nowhere in sight and that shouldn’t have made her feel anything, but it did. A tangle of different emotions, many of them good, which was most confusing of all.

  In all the years she’d worked as a temp, she had rarely counted down the minutes until she could leave. This place was weird, and she was already worried about what tomorrow might bring. Between critters, misdirected magic, and the situation with Ms Black, she felt far from comfortable, or even safe.

  *

  Abby studied the bundle wrapped in wax paper from her desk. This was indeed an unexpected turn of events. Whatever mirroring spell Ms Projector had used was only mildly effective and had no effect on her other than to make her feel as if she’d had a glass of good strong scotch.

  However, she had gotten the sense that Ms Projector hadn’t cast the spell, and that she was somehow trying to ward it off.

  Who, then, had sent her into her office bespelled? Especially given the circumstances surrounding her presence at Black and Blacker? That was a risk, using Ms Projector like a Trojan horse.

  She got up and went to the table where they had been sitting to go over contracts. Was there something about this bread? She hadn’t detected anything, but it was well wrapped, so she removed the wax paper and the rich, heady smell of home-baked bread met her head-on.

  She regarded it and its perfectly baked surface when a knock interrupted.

  “Come.”

  Ms Ping entered, carrying paperwork. “Here’re the documents you wanted.” Her gaze went to the bread. “Oh, fab. Did Astral bring that in? She put a loaf in the kitchen and it’s completely delicious. She should open a bakery or something.” Ms Ping handed the papers to her. “Can I have a piece? It’s all gone from the kitchen.”

  Abby pursed her lips but nodded.

  Ms Ping carefully picked up one of the slices and took a bite. “Oh, it’s so good,” she said, chewing. “Totally savoury.” She swallowed. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No, Ms Ping, that’s more than enough, thank you.”

  Ms Ping took another bite. “So good,” she repeated as she left.

  Abby continued studying the bread, as if it would suddenly come alive and run about the room. Instead, it remained nestled in its wax paper on the table. And if it were somehow magically imbued, why would Ms Projector encourage her to put it in the kitchen if it were not to her liking, and so endanger others in the office? She frowned. Ms Projector had already brought baked goods to the office and, so far, nothing untoward had happened.

  Unless one counted the extremely inappropriate but also incredibly exciting kiss. She pondered what to do about that. As an employer, she had breached a boundary with staff, regardless of whatever spell had been at work. It wasn’t powerful enough to have made her want to do that.

  Because the truth, as uncomfortable as it was, was that she had wanted to kiss Ms Projector, and the spell revealed that Ms Projector had wanted the same thing.

  She could just leave it be and allow her to think the spell was effective. Plus, there were other things at play here that would determine many things about Ms Projector and her time at Black and Blacker and how certain things played out. But pragmatic and focused as Abby was, the bubbly, vivacious, endearing, sweetly insecure, but utterly competent Ms Projector had brought a bit of life to the office.

  And to her.

  A most unsettling thought.

  She picked up a slice of bread and sniffed. Hints of tarragon, chives, and coriander. Curious—and possibly against her better judgement—she took a small bite and was greeted with a perfect balance of flavours that included overtures of nuttiness and anise that played very well with a zip of chive. It would be excellent paired with a red wine or even scotch. The bread was indeed magical, she decided, because of the virtue of Ms Projector’s skill with baking.

  The door opened and Iraldine leaned in. “My team would like a meeting—” her demeanour shifted immediately at the sight of the bread. “What is that?” she asked, venom in her tone.

  “Bread. Very good bread, at that. Would you like a slice?” She kept her own tone placid.

  “Did that little bootlick bring it in?” She oozed malice and Abby automatically compared Iraldine’s temperament to Ms Projector’s and found she much preferred the latter.

  “If you’re referring to Ms Projector, then yes. And it really is good. Have a piece.”

  Iraldine’s perfect eyes flashed with anger and contempt and she withdrew without another word.

  Another unexpected turn of events. Abby went back to her desk, debating what, if anything, she should do with regard to all these new developments.

  She had already made a mistake where Iraldine was concerned, though she hadn’t quite rectified it yet. And really, she needed to get her head on straight. It would not do for a woman of her stature in a firm of this nature to continue to seek out companionship. Ridiculous. She wasn’t that sort of person, she reminded herself as she took another bite of bread.

  Unexpected turn of events, indeed.

  *

  “What are the odds?” Astral served up a second helping of salmon en croûte.

  “I can’t believe his stupid charm worked.” Dulcie accepted her plate and heaped on more brocc
oli.

  “But how did he manage it?”

  “He doesn’t know. He bought the ingredients on Witchbay and followed an online recipe. Basically, I think he ended up with some sort of bodged mirroring spell.”

  “Magical mirroring.” Astral struggled to recall her distant school lessons. It wasn’t an easy spell. What was Damián thinking?

  “Yeah. You blinked, she blinked, you nodded, she nodded, etcetera, etcetera, do you see where I’m headed? You kissed, she kissed—”

  “I did not initiate the kiss.” At least, she was pretty sure about that. Although, she certainly hadn’t pushed her away. Oh, Hecate. Had she inadvertently initiated it?

  “Well, it came from somewhere. One of you was thinking about it and, let’s face it, you were the caster.” Dulcie’s eyebrows climbed a mile a minute.

  Astral went red. “Ms Black is not the kind of boss you fantasize over. You’d know that if you met her.” She redirected by blaming Damián and his failed DIY project again. “Handing out mirroring spells with no warning labels. What was he thinking?”

  “Damián thinking…there’s the fatal flaw.” She pursed her lips. “Are you sure it wasn’t a plain, old-fashioned ‘I fancy you rotten’ human kind of incident? It’s not like you picked up any magical signature.”

  “Since when have I fancied women?” Astral asked. Though, if she were honest about it, she certainly hadn’t been entirely averse to it, either.

  Dulcie shrugged. “Dunno. Don’t care. Whatever floats your boat, Astral. I’m your friend. I only want you to be happy, and in a boat, floating.”

  “I am happy.”

  “No, you’re not. You’ve been depressed since Grandma Lettice jumped in the cauldron. In fact, you’ve had a rotten couple of years.” She was referring to Myriad disappearing. “Personally, I think you need something special in your life, or someone special, and maybe this is you beginning to explore whatever or whoever that may be.”

  “You’re saying, I’m missing lesbianism in my life?”

  Dulcie shrugged awkwardly, as if she’d fallen into a deeper conversation than she’d intended. “Or bisexuality, or pansexuality, or whatever. It doesn’t always have to be about the magic. Personally, I can’t see Damián’s charm having such a seismic effect.” She shrugged again. “Maybe you simply liked this woman, and with all the Projector magic boomeranging around, well…”

  “Honestly, Dulcie, if you met Ms Black you’d understand. She is not the seducible type. She has too much self-control.”

  Dulcie gave her a keen stare and Astral felt her cheeks roast.

  “You know what I mean.” Flustered, she poured more wine. A soft thump on her ankles told her Borage had taken up residence under the table. He glared up at her with sullen dissatisfaction.

  “You had your dinner earlier,” Astral scolded him, glad of a distraction. “In fact, you had more salmon than you should have. Now go and eat the diet biscuits Keeva gave you or we’ll both be in trouble.”

  Disgusted, he stalked from the kitchen, keeping his face deliberately averted from the loathed bowl of diet food. Both witches watched his retreat wordlessly.

  “I suppose boomeranging magic might explain the cakes in your desk,” Dulcie mused, “and even Damián’s little surprise packet actually working, but why is this happening at Black and Blacker? Why not here on the farm where the wand is?” They looked at the dresser drawer where the broken wand currently licked its wounds. “Shouldn’t the magic be zoning in on the wand rather than you?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps I could take the wand to work?” The idea troubled her, though. What if the critter stole it? “I wish Keeva were here. She always has an opinion and some of them are good.”

  “It’s late-night surgery tonight.”

  Astral rolled her eyes. “Who goes to that? What witch leaves her armchair once the fire’s lit? And if there’s ever an emergency, Keeva does a house call, anyway. Tell her we’re about to break out the port and cheese. Get her here any way you can.”

  “Okay.” Dulcie dug out her phone. It picked up on the first ring. “Keeva, when will you be free? Can you come over to Astral’s?”

  “Tell her about the port and cheese,” Astral whispered.

  Dulcie was barely listening to her because all her attention was on the phone. “Uh, salmon en croûte. Yes, there’s some left over.” She sighed and turned to Astral. “She’s asking you to fill a Tupperware. She can’t make it tonight, but she’ll pop over tomorrow and—”

  “I know, I know.” Keeva was famous for her scrounging. Dogwitches loved food but were not renowned for their cooking skills. Astral placed a large slice in a container and put it in the fridge. “Tell her to come over,” she called over her shoulder. “Tell her there’s port and cheese.”

  Dulcie huffed noisily at being bossed in both ears. “She says she can’t—”

  “Port and cheese.”

  “Look, Keeva, it’s like this, Astral’s a lesbian.” Dulcie listened intently for a second, then hung up. “She’s on her way.”

  Astral stared at her.

  “Oh. Sorry.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I forgot to mention the port and cheese.”

  “For someone with such a cherubic face, you can be a little bastard.”

  Dulcie smiled indulgently. “Let’s warm the port. Keeva’s driving over here like a maniac.”

  *

  “Damián’s spell seduced your boss?” Keeva guffawed and poured more port.

  “As strange as it seems…yes,” Astral responded drily.

  “You’ve got to stop him,” Keeva said with a pointed look at Dulcie. “He’ll burn the town down with some potion or other.”

  “He’s doing extra lessons so he can try for his exams.” Dulcie took a piece of cheese off the plate.

  “Who’s teaching him? He needs to get his ass back to the academy and learn proper magic.” Keeva set the port bottle back on the table.

  “He’s found an online course he swears by.” Dulcie shrugged.

  Keeva turned to Astral. “Maybe he did you a favour. Is she hot, this boss of yours?”

  Astral squirmed. “As in breathes fire? Maybe.” Ms Black was so not hot. She was tall and gaunt and scary and…a good kisser. A surprisingly great kisser. Toe-tingly so. Astral’s toes scrunched in her shoes with a naughtiness she would never admit to.

  “Remember in fourth year when we had to kiss a frog?” Keeva wandered off down memory lane. Astral hated that road.

  “It was a horrible exam.” Astral smeared Roquefort onto a cracker and pouted. “I’d have passed it if the stupid frog had stayed still and wasn’t so ugly. And I was allergic. I nearly died.”

  Keeva snorted. “Miss Majesty had to rescue the poor frog-prince.”

  “It was a hard test,” Astral objected. “My frog was particularly frisky.” Though having a lovely teacher like Miss Majesty save the day still gave her a little tickle. The whole class crushed on Miss Majesty. “It’s okay for you two. You’re a Dogwitch, so you breezed it, and Dulcie…well, Dulcie was always top at everything.”

  “I got Prince Rainer,” Dulcie said smugly, then sadly added, “he was old.”

  “I got Prince Caspian. Not really a keeper.” Keeva snapped a cracker in two and dunked it in the melted Camembert. “So, what’s it like at Black and Blacker?”

  “Oh, where to start?” She sighed. “Fergal, my immediate supervisor, is a drunk and I suspect he’s stealing from the firm. Iraldine, who could be a model, thinks I’m after her girlfriend—who is Ms Black.”

  “What?” Dulcie nearly dropped her glass. “You neglected to mention that. Ms Black is having an affair with another woman in the office?”

  “This is even juicier.” Keeva smirked.

  “And Ms Black went and kissed you, thus confirming this Iraldine’s suspicions,” Dulcie practically crowed.

  “She doesn’t know about the kiss,” Astral said, face flaming with heat. “I certainly didn’t see it coming, even with Dami
án’s stupid charm.” She was beginning to question even that. “And we were in Ms Black’s office with the door closed, so nobody else knows. Ms Black probably doesn’t even know, since she was bespelled.”

  “Oh, is that how it was? The door was closed?” Dulcie pressed, also smirking.

  “That’s how Ms Black likes to work. She keeps her door closed all the time.”

  “Of course she does,” Keeva said, smirk widening to a grin. “For all her rendezvous.”

  Astral huffed. “Stop it, both of you, or I won’t tell you anything more.”

  Both of them shut up.

  “Anyway, Ping—that’s the receptionist—is so fatigued, she’s in a world of her own half the time, and Ms Black can be terrifying. I know you don’t think so, but she is. I initially thought she might be the critter.” She stopped. “I guess she could still be the critter, but she’s been there a long time, and that doesn’t make sense.” She leaned back with a heavy sigh. “Everyone is weird there.” They were a strange bunch, she thought. Iraldine storming down the corridor ready to kill, and Fergal swanning out the door with his pockets full of cash. And then Abby Black kissing her—no, that was magic and best not to think about it ever again. She uncurled her toes.

  “This Fergal guy is stealing? Now that is critterish behaviour.” Keeva perked up and Astral was glad she had stopped teasing her about Ms Black.

  “Should I tell the coven?” She hoped they’d say yes, so this whole crazy episode would be over.

  “Maybe keep an eye on him until you’re sure,” Dulcie advised. “Get some proper evidence, perhaps?”

  “Yeah. Magdalene and the Upper Council are sure to ask questions.” Keeva deflated slightly.

  “I’m not sure it’s Fergal, though.” Astral toyed with her glass. “He’s all over the place, but despite that, everyone seems to like him, and he’s been with the firm forever. I’m not looking for a human thief. The critter has to be someone new and, so far, I can’t find anyone who fits.”

  Keeva and Dulcie swapped a look, and Astral noticed it.