Witch Ever After: A Sweet & Quirky Paranormal Romance

by Kallie Khan

  Her mouth dropped open, and she watched for a moment in pure, transported awe.

  “You like this one?” Kaiden said softly behind her.

  She jumped.

  He winced at her reaction. “Sorry! I thought you heard me.”

  She rolled her eyes, mainly at herself. “It’s not your fault. My sister says I’ve got startle reflexes like a cat, and hearing skills like a deaf cat.” Then she smiled. “But yeah. I like this one.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “It does have a certain quality to it.”

  She stood back and tried to ignore the enchantment living inside of it. The round wooden bracing was scuffed and the glass was scratched in places. It was not a particularly beautiful mirror.

  It was also not particularly expensive.

  “I wonder how much I owe you…” said Kaiden, voice still thoughtful.

  She looked at him quizzically. “Owe me?”

  He nodded earnestly. “I saw what damage I did with Phoebe’s golf clubs.”

  “Phoebe? Phoebe Wise? Why did you have her golf clubs?”

  “She’s been trying to sell stuff off since her husband died. I help her out. She makes me iced tea and is teaching me the gentle art of knife-throwing, though, so it evens out,” he said, grinning.

  Tobie did a spectacularly cartoonish double-take. “I’m sorry, did you say knife-throwing?”

  “She’s a woman of wide-ranging talent,” he said with a shrug. “But you’ve distracted me from my point—”

  “Easy enough to do.”

  “Hey!” But he laughed with a shake of his head. “Anyway. I smashed up Hettie’s shop really thoroughly,” he said, and Tobie noted with a sudden affection that his cheeks were turning red. He shoved his hands in his back pockets and tapped at a seam in the hardwood floor with his toe. “I figured I cost you at least two additional hours of work. Probably three. So I owe you at least that much money.”

  “You realize Hettie paid me for that time, though, right? I get paid to work—that’s the general way of things. And that means I get paid to clean up after patrons with golf club battering rams,” she added slyly. “So you actually don’t owe me anything.”

  Also I set your pants on fire, she thought, sudden guilt rushing through her. She cleared her throat, hoping it would also clear away the sudden blush on her cheeks.

  “I do owe you, though,” he said insistently. “And I’m getting you that mirror.”

  “I can pay for it.”

  “Sure you can. But you won’t because I will.” He smiled winningly and held out his palms in such a way that suggested he’d just solved everything.

  “Look, I’m not letting you—”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up and hanging his head. “I’m also super-selfishly asking you to let me purchase this mirror because...because…”

  Although his tone was happily self-mocking, he actually turned red. A full-flowered rose of a blush, blooming through his tan spectacularly. He gave a rueful little laugh and pointed at his face. “See? This is how you know I’m sincere. Because—ahem. Because I really, really, really want you to like me.”

  A twin bloom of shy delight came over her, washing her in a heat of joy and mild (but perfectly tolerable, considering the situation) embarrassment came over her. “And, um, you think I’m the kind of girl whose affection you can just, uh, buy?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. But it’s worth a try, huh?”

  She appraised him for a good long moment. She was absolutely not the type of girl to be swayed by material items—unless of course it were a Juliet rose or an amorphophallus titanum (which was purported to smell like death and decay when in full bloom, but Tobie would’ve endured the stench of a thousand false deaths to have one in her garden).

  So, okay. She could theoretically be swayed by plants.

  “I suppose,” she said after a while.

  He brightened. “Excellent!”

  “But only,” she said, shaking her finger at him, “because it’s eight bucks.”

  “Eight is the threshold limit, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  They flagged the mirror so they could gather it when they left, and continued on. Tobie was delighted when she saw a small enclave full of Tiffany-style lamps.

  “Kaiden! Watch this!” she exclaimed, pointing at one lamp in particular. “My mom taught me this trick when I was little.” Back when she’d still been a mom and not a haughty automaton with severely byzantine ideas about how daughters should act in adulthood, she thought acidly.

  She fiddled with the power cord for show, since there was no bulb anyway. Concealing a smile, she stood upright again and snapped her fingers.

  A light flickered on, illuminating the multifarious colors of glass in the lampshade.

  “Wow,” said Kaiden, blinking in surprise and jamming one hand in his pocket. “That—wow.”

  Then she snapped her fingers again, and only the red bits of glass glowed. She snapped again—now the blue pieces. Green. Yellow. Purple. Red once more.

  She snapped faster and faster until the lampshade danced with color and light, like a manic Christmas light show.

  “Off,” she said smartly, and the lights went abruptly out. She turned to Kaiden with a childlike delight.

  His mouth was hanging open, his eyes wide and staring.

  “So?” she prompted. “Good trick?”

  “G-good? Good?! That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. That was brilliant! That was—was…” He shook his head as though trying to clear water from his ears. “You’re downright magic, Tobie.”

  This time she was prepared for his well-intentioned accusation. She just smiled blithely and gave a modest shrug. “It’s nothing, really.”

  “Wait, how did you…?”

  He moved toward the lamp, and was halfway peering under the lampshade when she shouted (yes, absolutely, positively shouted in the cozy, muffled quiet of Rabbit’s Babbits) to prevent him from seeing the distinct lack of bulb, “OH MY GOODNESS, LOOK AT THIS.”

  Kaiden jumped so hard that he bumped the table, setting several of the lamps rattling precariously.

  “LOOK, KAIDEN,” she shouted again, pointing at an unremarkable (and honestly, downright ugly) wooden toad.

  “This?” he asked, expression quizzical.

  “Isn’t he cute?” she asked sweetly, voice at a much less offensive decibel.

  He looked around for a moment as if he weren’t sure what to make of any of what just happened—lamp; shouting; and sad-eyed, ugly toad all.

  “He...um…” He blinked a few times at her, then focused his eyes on the frog. “You like frogs?”

  “They’re excellent in gardens. Natural pest control. A single frog or toad can eat about one hundred insects per night. I mean, he can’t,” she said, jabbing a thumb at the wooden toad. “But animate ones can.” She grabbed the toad unceremoniously in her fist. “I think I’ll take him.”

  Kaiden gave a sudden laugh. “Never a dull moment with you, Tobie.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve just made you spend the last three hours looking at old stuff with me, and then I gave you some information about the benefits of toads in gardens.”

  “And a light show,” he reminded her.

  “And a light show,” she agreed. “But light shows are so passé nowadays, you know?”

  He barked a laugh.

  “Shall we adjourn for the day?”

  “Maybe go for some ice cream?”

  “Ooh, that sounds good.”

  “Or a pretzel?”

  “Even better!”

  He grinned. “Well, let’s get your mirror and your toad and head out.”

  “That sounds—oh! I’m dying for some ramen.”

  “You want ramen? Let’s get you ramen.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, his smile swimming through her like a warm drink. “The world is yours.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”

/>   “The world is yours.”

  “I know this sounds weird, but are you quoting something?”

  His expression softened into something approaching bashful. “I guess so. It doesn’t really make sense in context, though. I just really like the quote.”

  “Does the quote happen to be from Scarface?”

  “How did you know?”

  She rolled her eyes so exaggeratedly that she practically fell over. Not at him, of course, but at the thought of her life without Scarface—a bleak and unquoteworthy existence. “Scarface is my favorite,” she said earnestly. She was sure her eyes must be shining with near-religious fervor. “My mom told us that under no circumstances were we allowed to watch it. So of course we watched it. It’s a little intense for an eight-year-old, but my dad let us watch it in secret when my mom was out at a witch—uh, I can’t remember which conference. But yeah. Loved it ever since. And I think I turned out okay,” she added. “I’m a well-adjusted plant lady with a cat and a handful of friends and a part-time job in manual labor and retail, and really, that’s all anyone can ask for.”

  He snorted with laughter. “Why are you so awesome?”

  Her insides went gooey. Her cheeks prickled. She looked down with what he probably perceived as false modesty, but in reality it was total pleasure and minor embarrassment. She gave a shrug. “It’s a burden, but I manage.” She looked up at him in—again—what he probably assumed was a coy fashion, but she actually couldn’t manage to raise her chin because she was afraid she’d dissolve into a self-conscious blob of delight and joy and a touch of terror.

  Because here was a man who enjoyed landscaping and Scarface, and also thought she was awesome.

  And that was likewise awesome.

  And she was filled with so much general awesome that for the rest of the evening, even when she spilled a sizable portion of her shoyu broth down her front, she was incandescently happy. The lamplights flickered beautifully as they sat on the restaurant patio watching the stars come out over Main Street, and at one point, Kaiden leaned over to speak softly near her ear.

  “Do you mind too terribly if I put my arm around you?” he asked, a hesitant little smile quirking his lips. His arm was already halfway around her.

  “Not unless you mind soaking up some of that shoyu.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but as he laid his arm gently across her shoulders, her whole body sparked like a match against a grain.

  She leaned into him. Everything in the world was new and beautiful. The stars sang in silent cosmic tones; the lamps whispered happy stories to her.

  “I like you,” she said, looking up at him.

  “I like you too,” he responded. “A whole heck of a lot.”

  Chapter 16

  KAIDEN

  He knew three things:

  Firstly, Tobie was awesome.

  Secondly, he was an idiot. He’d dropped her off, walked her to the door, and felt a thrill spill over him when she leaned into his arms.

  She was small against him, and he’d wanted nothing more than to lean down to kiss her, but as he was working up the courage to tilt her gently back and suggest she lift her face to his own by placing a soft, crooked finger under her chin (he’d had a very clear picture of how it should go, obviously), the door flew open and a young woman shouted, “WHO’S THERE? SHOW YOURSELF!” followed swiftly by, “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, pretend I was never here!” and the door slamming so hard it echoed down the block.

  He and Tobie had dissolved into laughter, and of course couldn’t pretend that she’d never been there. But as a direct result, he’d left Tobie unkissed. Left himself unkissed. And he was kicking himself for it, because he thought maybe she hated him now since he hadn’t kissed her, even though he’d desperately wanted to.

  And the third thing he knew was this: the lamp at Rabbit’s Babbits had had exactly zero light bulbs and hadn’t been connected to a power source at all.

  And he was still working out how he felt about knowing this information.

  Chapter 17

  TOBIE

  “Sweet Goddess, Mystia!”

  “I’m sorry!”

  Tobie scrunched up her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Really,” Mystia continued desperately, “I know how excited you were and I totally screwed it up.”

  “Clusterfudgery,” said Veronica helpfully, purring as Mystia rubbed her belly.

  “Thanks, Vee,” Mystia said, voice sour.

  Eyes still screwed shut, Tobie began to shake her head. A chuckle bubbled out of her chest, then a full-blown laugh.

  “Ooh, Goddess.” She sighed and fell back against the couch, resting her head on Mystia’s shoulder. “What a day.” She reached out to gently tweak one of Veronica’s outstretched paws.

  “A good day? Aside from me ruining the grand finale?”

  Tobie scoffed. “Don’t be silly—you didn’t ruin anything. I don’t even think he was going to kiss me.”

  “Oh, honey. The one benefit to interrupting you was that I could see everything. That boy wanted to kiss you like an arsonist wants to set things on fire.”

  “That is a terrifying analogy.”

  “He was going for the kill,” she continued.

  “And now you’re making it worse.”

  “Search and destroy.”

  Tobie snorted. “Okay, that one doesn’t even make sense.”

  Mystia broke out into a grin. “But seriously. I know you haven’t been kissed a lot—”

  “Rub it in,” she muttered.

  “—But trust me. That is the look a dude has when he wants to plant one on you.”

  “‘Plant?’ Is that a pun?” she asked suspiciously.

  “It’s a figure of speech. Nerd,” Mystia added, sticking her tongue out happily.

  Tobie rolled her eyes, but slouched even closer to Mystia. “Heaping,” their mother had called it. Just collapsing in a heap on each other. Veronica took advantage of the heaping to climb up onto Tobie’s shoulder and burrow into her hair.

  “Ugh, Vee, you smell like cat.”

  Veronica did not deign to respond, electing instead to yawn cat-breathily in Tobie’s face.

  “Little monster,” said Mystia fondly. Then she turned her head down to look at Tobie. “Want some popcorn? I made it earlier. It’s probably a little stale,” she said appealingly.

  And Tobie absolutely found it appealing; something about hours- or days-old popcorn (kept in a sealed sandwich bag if it were days old, of course) really hit the spot to her.

  “You’re the best sister,” she said.

  “When I’m not barging in on kisses,” Mystia said, tone contrite.

  Tobie gave her a quick peck on the cheek as she sat up, Veronica hopping nimbly but annoyedly away. “I still love you.”

  Besides, there’d be more time for kissing Kaiden.

  When she want to the kitchen, she glanced at her phone. There were three more texts from her mother, the thought of opening which gave her minor anxiety, so she ignored them. There was a text from Alistair (which she also ignored, but in so doing felt a twinge of guilt), and one from Kaiden.

  She opened it with an anticipatory smile, and was not disappointed. Kaiden had sent her a picture of him wearing the purple hat, plus a fake and spectacularly curled mustache that gave him a megalomaniacal quality.

  She snorted a laugh and forwarded the picture to Mystia. A few seconds later, a burst of laughter came from Mystia as well. “I like this dude!” she called.

  Tobie just smiled to herself.

  Wednesday morning found Tobie in black leggings and an orange sweater dress Mystia had insisted would be perfect for her.

  “I look like a pumpkin.”

  “Your name is October,” Mystia pointed out in what Tobie was sure she found a reasonable tone.

  “So the last thing I want to look like is pumpkin!”

  “You know I’m only joking!” Mystia said, rolling her eyes. “Why would I put you in something silly
-looking? It’s Kaiden’s dad’s birthday. Also I’m offended you’d think I’d dress you in something silly at all, no matter what the occasion.” Mystia crossed her arms and leaned heavily on one hip.

  Tobie immediately felt like a terrible, petulant little sister. “I’m sorry, Mystie. I really do like the dress,” she offered.

  Mystia rolled her eyes again, but appeared slightly mollified. “Don’t try to play that game with me. I know you hate it, really. But it’s nice of you to pretend.”

  “I really don’t hate—”

  “Boots!” Mystia said suddenly, snapping her fingers. A pair of boots fell neatly into her arms, materializing smartly together.

  “Wow!” exclaimed Tobie. Mystia was quite sensitive to the fact that her spells and apparitions and summonings weren’t always great (made worse by their mother, who constantly reminded Mystia that her romantic prospects had been severely hampered by her middlingly average witch basics exam results), but Tobie was wildly impressed.

  Mystia gave a shrug, but also did a small curtsey. “I’ve been practicing,” she said. “Seems to work best with heavy shoes. I think it’s something about the thick soles. Haven’t managed any clothes yet. Although I did manage to make a sweater flop a few feet toward me. Like a dead fish,” she added sourly.

  “You’ll get it,” Tobie said, nodding. She was an old curmudgeon at heart and subsequently didn’t have a lot of inherent faith in people—except Mystia. Mystia was her stalwart friend, protector, and the person she looked up to most in the world.

  Mystia just pointed at the boots. “Feet in,” she said. “Wish I’d gotten it back when we were taking our basics…” she added, voice soft and trailing.