by Lucy True
Burgundy navigated the two lane U.S. highway that brought her to her home on the outskirts of town and then turned onto a gravel road. There seemed to be more county-maintained gravel roads than state-run paved roads, but that suited her fine. The entire county west of Rock Grove remained ninety-nine percent agricultural. She worked in the one percent where the majority of the county’s residential, commercial, and industrial land use took place. And even that was small compared to the rest of the state.
Rock Grove had been her home-sweet-home since childhood and Burgundy was happy to stay there, for things never to change. Small town though it may be, the place was special for a number of reasons.
The front porch light was already on, the bulb emanating a soft, yellow glow to combat the coming darkness. In another month, it would be completely dark by the time Burgundy got home from the library.
When winter did come, the house itself would look as pretty as a picture, the Victorian architecture covered in snow while light shined out from every window. Burgundy liked that the house was eccentric and completely out of place among the farm-style houses in Rock Grove. But her grandparents, who’d built it sometime in the mid-1800s after leaving New England, had been among the first settlers and could do anything they damn well pleased.
Thinking of the coming months sobered her. She loved winter, but the thought of facing it alone and single sucked. As soon as she set her food down in the kitchen, she took the lid off the Blizzard and shoved a spoonful of the soft-serve candy-filled ice cream into her mouth.
“You can’t be serious,” came a cultured-sounding male voice from the living room. “Darling, I saw this break-up coming a mile away. That isn’t the way to deal with things, though, you know.”
“Shut up, Arthur,” Burgundy answered. Technically, it came out sounding more like “Shuddup, Awfur,” since her mouth was full of ice cream. But all that mattered was getting her point across.
The sinuous, shadowy figure unfurled itself in front of the fireplace, which already had a warm blaze dancing in it. Burgundy kept the Blizzard clutched in one hand and used her free one to pick up the bag of Chinese food. She brought it into the living room and set it on the coffee table. Arthur’s nostrils flared and Burgundy knew he’d picked up the scent.
“So this is what girls do when they’re all sad and pathetic. Interesting.” Arthur slinked toward her, his serpentine form shining in the firelight. Those iridescent rainbow scales were always a sight to behold and Burgundy admired the way they shimmered before turning to take the boxes of hot food out of the plastic bag. It would be a long time before she merited her own familiar, especially one as noble as a firedrake. For now, she was used to Arthur’s constant presence, even if some of what he said rankled.
“You’ve lived with my aunt long enough to know how women behave.”
“Yes, and never in all my years as her familiar did I see her behave in such an undignified manner.”
Burgundy opened the lid to the broccoli beef and shoved it beneath the firedrake’s delicate snout. “Whatever. Maybe she never got dumped. Anyway, this is for you, my little draconic friend, while Aunt Iris is off on her adventure. Be extra nice to me in my time of need and there’s more where that came from.”
Arthur nosed at the food and then flicked it with his long, forked tongue. Without inspecting it further, he swallowed one piece of meat whole. Satisfied that dinner passed muster, Burgundy went back to her treat.
“Really, aren’t you putting the cart before the horse?” Arthur asked.
“What – ice cream before dinner? I can reheat the rice and crab rangoons. I can’t fix melty ice cream.”
The sigh Arthur let out was deep and long-suffering. “Then why buy it in the first place?”
“You know why.” Burgundy wasn’t about to play this game with Arthur. The firedrake wasn’t exactly all-seeing and all-knowing, but he still knew things. That was part of being her aunt’s familiar – finding out stuff before Iris did. As a firedrake, Arthur could travel between the worlds or invisibly in theirs. Burgundy was pretty sure he sneaked a peek on her at the library at least a couple of times a day. After all, before leaving for her sabbatical, Aunt Iris had ordered him to watch over Burgundy.
Arthur grumped about it, but unless he had some kind of snazzy other life elsewhere, he really didn’t have much else to do. Not that anyone needed watching over in the town of Rock Grove, the most uneventful place on earth, but Burgundy was still just a baby witch, even at twenty-six. It might be years before her talents manifested in full. For now, she was still her aunt’s responsibility. Especially since her parents...
“Ugh.” Burgundy set the ice cream container down on the coffee table, reached up, and scrubbed her hands over her face.
Now that she was home, the quiet pressed in on her from all sides. A reminder that the only person she’d be sharing her night with was, in fact, not a person, but a miniature dragon. Then there was the fact that after finally opening herself up to a real relationship, the person she thought she loved turned around and dropped her like a hot potato. Jenna knew her past, knew how difficult it was for Burgundy to trust anyone.
Even Arthur looked her up and down, then stated knowingly, “Ah yes, your abandonment issues rear their ugly head. Really, Jenna should have thought this through better, but I told you a year ago she wasn’t the woman for you.”
“What?” Burgundy squawked, sitting upright and staring at the tiny dragon. “You so did not.”
“I most certainly did. Remember when she came down here for the five-year high school reunion? She acted like a complete twat to anyone who dared talk to her.” Arthur’s British accent was only more pronounced, the more agitated he became. Now he raised his head, arching his neck so he could look down his snout at Burgundy. “That one was always been too big for her britches and it only got worse once she went off to the city. It’s the ones who leave a nice, secure small town like Rock Grove that you can’t trust, mark my words.”
Burgundy made a sound that was a cross between a scoff and a hiss, and jabbed her spoon back into what remained of the Blizzard. She didn’t need Arthur’s tough love style of compassion right now. Vilifying Jenna didn’t make her feel any better.
“What about the time she called you – what was it – Blueberry Head?”
“Dude, that was, like, fifth grade. And she didn’t realize I can’t do anything about it.” Burgundy reached up and fingered the strands of blue that edged her dark hair, the colors completely at odds with her name. Obviously, her parents hadn’t named her for the strange hair color she’d been born with. They’d saddled her with something weird for shits and giggles, as far as Burgundy was concerned. Left her with a shitty name and then left her altogether. But that was over twenty-five years ago, now. She was kinda-sorta over it. Mostly.
Arthur made a sound of disbelief and returned to his broccoli beef. “Elementary ridiculousness aside,” he said before taking another bite, “Jenna was never the woman for you. You deserve better. I say it’s no great loss.”
Again, Burgundy disagreed with the creature’s assessment. In a tiny town like Rock Grove, being gay meant the end of any relationship was a substantial loss. Even though it was a supernatural community, it wasn’t exactly progressive. Burgundy couldn’t go to the local lesbian night club to meet someone new, because that kind of place didn’t exist here. If she wanted that kind of love, she needed to drive more than an hour to find it in the big city. Ever since her adolescent realization that she was definitely attracted to women, she’d spent far too much time pondering the impact of it on her love life. Her odds of finding love within Rock Grove were low and, yeesh, it bummed her out.
“There’s always partying in the city,” Arthur continued, canting his head to one side, “but then you’d end up with another Jenna type.”
Burgundy didn’t have to ask what he meant by that, because it could go one of two ways. It could mean a small-town girl with big city aspirations... or another succu
bus.
“Well, having a succubus as a girlfriend isn’t a consideration, since I’m immune to most supernatural beings’ effects.” Burgundy shrugged and finished off the last of her Blizzard. The chill it left tingling through her body was a welcome distraction from her sadness. “As for being all mopey, deal with it. Jenna and I were together for a year, which means it’s going to take me at least six months to get over her.”
“You’re kidding. Burgundy, child, you know there’s no mathematical equation for heartbreak. It will last as long as it lasts. Do me a favor and warn me before indulging in any more of this irrational break-up behavior. I might want to find an alternative plane of existence to vacation on for a little while.”
“Hey.” Burgundy lifted her index finger and poked Arthur in the snout. “What’d I say? Be nice to me or the beef broccoli gets it.”
Arthur reared back. “I am not one of your silly female friends. Don’t do that.”
“What? This?” Burgundy continued to prod at him, while the firedrake ducked and weaved in an attempt to avoid her poking finger.
He finally retreated to the fireplace, dragging the container of food with him. The way he curled protectively around it made Burgundy smile. Arthur had tried to make her feel better in his own, non-humanoid way and she appreciated his efforts. She pushed herself to her feet and brought the rest of the food in the kitchen to reheat.
As the carton of crab rangoon spun on the turntable inside the microwave, Burgundy gripped the edge of the counter and whispered, “It didn’t matter anyway. But if someone like Martha can get love, what chance do I have?”
When she finally walked into her bedroom, she paused. It smelled like memories, like love, like that damn D&G Light Blue perfume Jenna wore all the time. Surely, the scent couldn’t be an inherent part of room, even after a year.
Burgundy went to her dresser and opened every drawer. Her own clothes were neatly folded within, but there was nothing out of place. Heart beating rapidly, she turned to the closet and threw open the double doors.
The smell was stronger here and now she could see the reason.
Jenna’s spring jacket still hung in there, a vintage corduroy piece she’d snagged once on a shopping excursion in the city. Now Burgundy remembered how it got there. The Friday before last, Jenna had arrived on her doorstep, carrying a box of cupcakes. It’d been a nice day, still warm for November. No need for a winter coat, so Jenna stood there in her stylish jacket and lifted the box up for Burgundy to see the frosted goodies inside.
“To celebrate all the leaves changing, because fall is the best season,” Jenna had told her as she walked through the door.
What happened after that to shut their relationship down entirely, Burgundy didn’t know. There’d been no sign of the break-up to come. Just two young women, a box of cupcakes, and the perfume that Burgundy had been conditioned to take as a sign that all was well with the world.
There was no swallowing her tears or the misery that crowded her insides. She wanted to tell herself that she’d get over Jenna, that she’d walk into town on Monday with her head held high and handle any interaction with her ex-girlfriend maturely. Right now, though, she curled up on her bed and cried.
Chapter Three
Sunday was one of her days off, which meant far too much time wallowing in post-break-up misery. Burgundy did everything she could to forget that text. That included shoving every last reminder of hers and Jenna's relationship, from the perfumed jacket to the random bobby pins Jenna had lost in each room, into a cardboard box, and hiding it at the back of her closet. It turned out to segue into the perfect time and place to line up her shoes, but that was small consolation when she thought about going to this year's Rock Grove Winter Concert all alone.
An email from her aunt arrived, complete with a photo attached and a “Having fun, wish you were here!” closing. In it, her aunt looked relaxed and happy in a lounge chair on the sand, a long stretch of turquoise water in the upper right-hand corner of the photo. It looked like paradise. Then again, anywhere but Rock Grove would feel like paradise at the moment.
Tears pricked at Burgundy’s eyes as she read it. “Wish I was there, too,” she muttered.
It certainly wasn't like there was nothing to keep her busy at home. With her aunt gone for the winter, Burgundy had to take care of Arthur, water the plants, and handle any customers who might stop by for a ready-made potion or DIY spell kit. Maybe someday, Burgundy would join her aunt as a purveyor of witchy remedies, but right now the town only needed one. Besides, her skills were nowhere near up to par.
It wasn’t that Burgundy couldn’t do what was expected of a witch. She could accomplish certain magickal tricks, like having the milk pour itself onto her cereal or telling her spoon to stir her cup of coffee. But, at her age, she should have been able to perform far more advanced magick, like spells to change the weather, protect property, or bind a person from doing harm.
Instead, she handled the basic housework her aunt needed done. It kept her useful and involved in witchcraft, without causing any lasting harm. Unlike her sometimes explosive attempts to make potions...
Even when she was done with her usual housework, Burgundy hadn't managed to push any of her sadness aside. The only reason she’d even bothered to get dressed was in case someone came to the house to buy something from her aunt’s magickal stash. With her small household accomplishments behind her, all she could think about was how much fun she’d had with Jenna for the past year.
“So much for having someone to share the holidays with,” Burgundy grumbled, flopping down on her bed.
“Holidays are overrated.”
She blinked up at the ceiling and narrowed her eyes at Arthur, who lay draped over the rafters, sunning himself. The circular window under the peak of the roof faced the south side. It bathed Burgundy’s room is warm, golden light year-round. She found the firedrake in there more often than not, even though his main task was doing whatever Aunt Iris needed.
“Maybe for you, but I hate the idea of eating alone for Thanksgiving, not to mention Solstice. Iris isn’t supposed to be back until right before the New Year. It’s going to be boring and lonely.”
“So?” Arthur stretched, closing his eyes in a feline manner as he extended his foreclaws before relaxing against the wooden beams again. “You could always have Charlotte over for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Burgundy scoffed. “Right. Why don’t I invite the town medicine woman over to celebrate an insensitive and culturally divisive holiday?”
“The way you and Iris approach it is nothing like that. I’m sure Charlotte would be happy to join you for turkey and stuffing and pie.”
It wasn’t a bad idea, except for the fact that Burgundy didn’t really know how to cook. Add that to her list of personal failures, and what a rapidly growing list it was! Cooking remained Charlotte’s area of expertise, whereas Burgundy and her aunt were content with microwave meals and ordering out nearly every night.
“Fine.” The tip of Arthur’s tongue poked out and flickered a bit, as if tasting the sunlight, then retracted. “Eat more Chinese food all alone. Watch a movie. Be a sad girl.”
Each word out of the firedrake’s mouth was infuriatingly close to the truth to which Burgundy had resigned herself. “Hey, break-ups mean sad girl time, all the time. Get on my level. Besides, the Chinese place is convenient and open on holidays,” she said defensively, “and streaming makes it easy to watch anything, even stuff you’ll like.”
Arthur wagged the tip of his tail from side to side, but didn’t respond. His eyes slitted and then closed entirely, while his head rested atop his crossed forelegs. With a sound of disgust, Burgundy pushed herself off her bed and approached the door.
“By the way,” Arthur said as her hand reached for the doorknob, “you’ve got a customer waiting.”
Burgundy spun to look at him as the doorbell rang, cutting through the silence. All she could do was stare at Arthur in open-mouthed wonder, but then
another and then another chiming of the doorbell spurred her into action. “Jeez, I’m coming,” she muttered under her breath, her feet clattering down the steps. The doorbell wouldn’t stop, so she finally yelled, “Just a minute!”
When she reached the door and yanked it open, she saw Cass Troy on her doorstep. The slightly taller woman tossed her cascade of flaming red hair over her shoulder and said, “I knew you wouldn’t want to see anyone today, but you wouldn’t have come down if I didn’t keep ringing the bell.”
Letting her arms drop, Burgundy rolled her eyes, taking in the clear blue sky. Despite the nip in the air, it was a beautiful day, the earthy-sweet scent of fall leaves still lingering.
“What can I do for you, Cass?” Burgundy asked, lowering her gaze back to the redhead. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Cass visit her home, though she knew the soothsayer and Aunt Iris had a weekly coffee date with some of the other women in town. Iris called it the Luscious Crone Coffee Klatch. Burgundy tried not to cringe whenever her aunt mentioned it.
Not that Iris and her fellow ladies didn’t deserve respect – they were, after all, the wise women of the town. All of them had earned their stripes one way or another, however their paranormal path dictated. But Burgundy detested two things above all else. The first was alliteration, especially in book titles. The second was seeing a group of middle-aged women dub themselves with a silly name in an attempt to be hip.
“May I come in?” Cass’s features remained serene, but the tone in her voice conveyed impatience. Burgundy stepped aside, realizing she was being a bit rude to her guest. Though unexpected, that was no excuse for making Cass wait out in the cold.
