Big Witch Energy

by Kelly Jamieson

  She draws back and studies my face. “You’re nervous.”

  I blink. That was another thing my mom and I didn’t do—talk openly about our feelings.

  “Terrified,” I say.

  She laughs softly. “Of course you are. This must be unsettling for you.”

  “Just a bit. But…” I hesitate to say this was what I hoped for. “But I’m happy to meet you all.”

  And never mind me. This must be unsettling for her.

  “And we are to meet you. Come on out. Dinner won’t be ready for a little while. We can have a drink and get to know each other.”

  She’s so friendly it calms my nerves somewhat, and I follow her across the kitchen to a door that opens into a bright sunroom. It’s amazing—the walls are all windows looking onto a yard as big and green as Lincoln Park. The room stretches almost the width of the house and is full of more plants—ferns and palms—wicker furniture with thick cushions, and low tables.

  Two young women rise from their chairs. One eyes me anxiously, the other smiles, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She rushes at me. “Romy!”

  I freeze. Yep, another hug.

  She throws her arms around me and squeezes, then moves away. “Hi! Omigod, I can’t believe you’re here! This is amazing! And you’re so pretty!” Her eyes move over my face. “Your skin! Wow. We have to talk skincare products. Later.”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “I’m Magan.” The other woman approaches me and gives me a more reserved hug. “Felise is a nutbar, ignore her.”

  Felise’s red hair is long and wavy, multihued copper blond, where Magan’s darker red hair is styled in a sleek chin-length bob. Their faces are identical though, with creamy skin and big dark blue eyes. I tilt my head, seeing my own eyes. Wow.

  They’re both about six inches shorter than me, tiny, and Felise leads me to a love seat and tugs me down. “You need a drink,” she says. “How about pink wine?”

  I blink. “Um, sure.”

  Joe hands me a glass of wine. “One glass of rosé,” he says dryly. “Don’t let these two overwhelm you.”

  “Not these two,” Magan protests in an equally dry tone. “Her.” She points at her sister.

  Felise shrugs happily. “Tell us all about yourself. What do you do for a living? Are you married?” Her gaze drops to my left hand. “No? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

  I think my head is going to spin three hundred and sixty degrees. I take a gulp of wine. “Not married, no boyfriend, I’m straight and single.” I tell them about my job and Over the Moon.

  “You could help us!” Felise says. “We have our own business too.” She gestures at Magan. “The Charming Chalice. Our website definitely needs help. Neither of us are good at that.”

  “I’d love to help. What is the Charming Chalice?”

  She tells me about the things they sell, and I nod, bemused by their unusual offerings but also imagining the designs I could do.

  Cassandra and Joe have joined us and taken seats, sipping their own drinks as they listen to us three girls chatter.

  “What about you?” I finally get to ask. “Boyfriends?”

  “I have a boyfriend,” Magan says. “His name is Dallas.”

  “I’m single too,” Felise says. “We can go out together to clubs.”

  I grin. I was never much into the singles bar scene, but hey, I’m trying to expand my horizons. “Okay.”

  At that moment, a man appears in the french doors to the sunroom.

  “Oh, you’re here!” Cassie jumps up and hurries over to him.

  I turn my head toward him.

  My stomach swoops and my eyes pop open wide as I stare at Trace.

  7

  Trace

  Like everyone else, I’m curious to meet this new family member.

  I freeze.

  I stare.

  I shake my head.

  Then my eyes meet Romy’s. Hers are wide and as stunned as mine probably are.

  What the hell is she doing here?

  My mind can’t make sense of this. Time stretches out as we stare at each other.

  Magan calls out, “Trace! Hi! Come meet Romy.”

  Is this for real? Is Romy Joe’s long-lost daughter? What the fuck?

  Our eyes have stayed connected, and I take a few steps closer to her. “Romy.”

  Her head moves from side to side, her eyes full of confusion. “Trace?”

  Magan’s eyebrows pinch together. “You two know each other?”

  Romy laughs awkwardly. “We actually just met the other night. At, um, the turtle races.”

  Magan lowers her chin and gives me a skeptical look. “Turtle races?”

  “My main man Donatello won,” I boast, covering up my own confusion.

  “But… did you know who each other were?” Magan asks.

  “Nope.” I frown at Romy. “I guess we do now.”

  Romy rubs her forehead. “You’re… Oh. Ohhhhh. Oh my god.”

  Magan’s watching us, eyes alight. “This is interesting.”

  “What a coincidence!” Cassie exclaims.

  I shoot her a glance. A fucking huge coincidence. “Crazy, huh?”

  She beams. “Amazing!”

  Was this why Romy’d been having a bad day that day? She’d just found out who her father is? And holy shit, it’s Joe. This is unbelievable.

  Not for the first time, I wish we witches could read minds. Sadly, that’s not one of our powers.

  I’ve been thinking about her since that night. There was something about her that drew me to her, not just a physical attraction (although kissing her was so fucking hot I’ve fantasized more than once about doing more to her) but a connection I felt in my chest. Is that my heart? Crap. I don’t believe in love at first sight. I don’t believe in love at all, at least for me. Like Lincoln said, it’s usually smash and dash for me.

  I knew I’d see her again. Somehow. This was not what I expected.

  Here she is. Sitting right in front of me. And she’s part of my family. Which means… back the fuck off. Way off.

  “So you know Trace is like our big brother?” Magan asks.

  “Yes.” Romy nods, her eyelashes fluttering up and down, betraying her nerves.

  I’m still befuddled from finding out Romy is Joe’s daughter. Seeing her again. It’s a shock… and yet, in a weird way, it isn’t. It feels… inevitable.

  But my head is all screwed up—excited to see her, disappointed that I can’t “see her,” and confused as hell.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Cassie says. “Let’s move into the dining room.”

  As everyone stands and heads toward the dining room, I move closer to Romy and speak in a low voice. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” She blinks rapidly. “I had no idea… when we met the other night…”

  “I know. Me either.” I shrug. “Wild, huh?”

  “Yeah. Wild.” She shakes her head. “Like my whole life right now.”

  “You mentioned that night you’d had a rough day.”

  “That was the day I found out about the Candlers. Felise had reached out to me on Facebook because the DNA testing showed we were related, but we couldn’t figure out how.” She closes her eyes. “I can only imagine the scene when she asked her parents… I mean Joe and Cassandra… about it.”

  “I wasn’t here for that.”

  “Cassandra has been amazing. It can’t be easy to find out your husband has a child from a previous relationship.”

  “No. But she is amazing. She’s been like a mother to me since I was sixteen.”

  Romy swallows and nods, her chin quivering. “Right. You mentioned that. I can’t believe…”

  “I know.”

  “I feel pretty lucky. It could have been so different. The truth is… I’m a little overwhelmed, but I’ve always wanted this. A big family. Lots of people to love. I loved my mom, and she loved me, but I used to dream of Christmases with a house full of people and tons of gifts and…” Her voice trails off. “We
ll. You get the idea. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  The urge to wrap her up in a hug startles me. This is so fucking weird.

  “Come on, you two!”

  We look up to see Felise beckoning us, a speculative gleam in her eye. Uh-oh.

  We follow the others into the dining room.

  Felise pats the chair beside her. “Come sit here, Romy.”

  Romy sits, running her hand over her butt to keep her skirt smooth, which puts dirty thoughts into my head. I take a seat across from her and next to Magan. Joe and Cassie are at each end.

  As usual, dinner is delicious—creamy chicken with spinach and artichokes, buttered noodles, and a simple salad, served family style with lots of passing of bowls and then much fast-moving conversation.

  “This is fabulous, Cassandra,” Romy says.

  “Thank you! I enjoy cooking.”

  Felise laughs and Romy’s forehead creases.

  “Save room for dessert,” Cassie says.

  Felise peppers Romy with all kinds of questions, but I like how Romy is patient with her, seeming amused.

  After dinner, we move into the den.

  “Are you sure I can’t help clear the table?” Romy asks Cassie.

  “No, no. It’ll just take me a minute.” Cassie waves us out.

  The den has big mullioned windows looking out onto the yard, comfortable leather furniture, and a patterned rug in shades of navy, gold, and orange that picks up the hues of the wood floor and wall paneling. I take a seat on a sofa.

  “Who needs anything?” Joe asks. “Drinks?”

  Romy holds up a half-full glass of wine. “I’m good, thanks.”

  Cassie walks in. Romy shoots her a surprised look. I wince. Romy’s no doubt wondering how she cleaned up so fast. Cassie holds up a glass of wine. “I’m fine.”

  Joe moves to the bar. “Trace, would you like a scotch?”

  “Sure.” I don’t really like the stuff, but Joe enjoys it when I have a glass with him.

  “Magan, go get the bottle of rosé,” Felise says lazily.

  “Who was your servant yesterday?” Magan doesn’t move.

  Felise sighs. She doesn’t move either.

  It’s a standoff. They do this all the time. We wait.

  “Well then,” Cassie says cheerfully. “It’s lovely getting to know you better, Romy.”

  “Thanks.” Romy smiles. Then her gaze lands on Felise’s wineglass as she leans forward to pick it up. It’s full. I watch Romy squint, the corners of her mouth pulling down.

  Jesus. I shoot Felise a warning glance. She shrugs.

  “We have something to talk to you about,” Cassie says.

  My gaze bounces from Cassie to Joe to Romy and back to Cassie. Oh no. Oh fuck. Here we go.

  “Okay.” Romy leans back, crosses her legs—damn, she has great legs—and sips her wine.

  My gut tells me she has no idea what’s coming.

  As the most tactful of all of us, Cassie has clearly been nominated to drop the bomb.

  “You mentioned that your mother didn’t talk much about Joe,” Cassie says, her tone neutral.

  “No.” Romy tilts her head.

  “She didn’t tell you why we broke up,” Joe adds.

  Romy shakes her head.

  “Well, I’m going to tell you,” Joe says. “This might be, um…” He looks at Cassie.

  “Surprising!” she says.

  Romy blinks.

  “Ilena and I had known each for about six months,” Joe says. “We were really young—I was only twenty, she was nineteen. I had the crazy idea we’d be together forever.”

  Cassie’s eyes flicker, but she keeps her smile in place.

  “I felt she needed to know the truth about me.” He pauses. “Like I said, I was young.”

  Romy’s chin dips. “The… truth.”

  “Yes.” Joe rubs his ear. “The truth. About who I was. Who I am.”

  Romy’s smile is uneasy, her eyes shifting around the room. The air around us has become heavy, Felise and Magan unnaturally quiet.

  “The truth,” Joe murmurs, dropping his gaze. He swirls his whiskey. “The truth is…” He looks directly at Romy. “I’m a witch.”

  Romy’s mouth quirks. A nervous laugh falls from her lips. Then she sees no one else is laughing. In fact, everyone is dead serious. Including me. Her smile fades. “What?”

  “I’m a witch.” Joe’s voice is stronger. He holds her gaze as he sweeps an arm out. “We’re all witches. When I told Ilena that, she reacted… pretty much as you are now. Clearly you don’t believe it.”

  “I… uh…” Her eyelashes flutter again.

  “It’s okay,” Cassie says gently. “It’s a lot to take in. But please, listen.”

  “Ilena didn’t believe me. She thought I was seriously deranged. When I kept trying to explain it, she got scared. I told her I could prove it with a simple spell or conjuration. So I conjured up a milkshake for her.” He pauses. “I think she nearly had a stroke. This wasn’t something she could get her head around. Ilena was lovely and had many good qualities, but she didn’t have a lot of imagination.” He winces apologetically.

  “No.” Romy swallows. “That’s true.” She tosses back the rest of her wine. I stand and take her glass. Over at the bar, I refill it from the bottle in the ice bucket there, then place it back into her hand, curving my fingers over hers briefly to make sure she has a grip on it. She seems… stunned. Of course she is. Who wouldn’t be?

  “She just couldn’t accept that there are other worlds… that beings with magical powers exist. We live among the rest of you… but we have our own community. Our own traditions and customs.”

  “This isn’t… real,” Romy says faintly. “Why are you doing this?”

  “It is real.” Felise speaks up. “Please believe us, Romy.”

  Romy turns wide eyes on her half sister, then swivels her head over to me.

  I nod.

  She closes her eyes. “You’re all completely batshit.”

  Felise chokes on a laugh, and I can’t stop my lips from twitching into a smile.

  Romy’s eyes fly open and she gives us a shocked stare. “You’re laughing about it?”

  “I don’t blame you for thinking that,” Felise says. “In fact, we are a bit batshit. But we really are witches.”

  Romy moves her head slowly from side to side. “That’s insane.”

  “So here’s the thing,” Cassie says gently. “You are part witch too, Romy.”

  Romy’s eyes bug out again. “What?”

  “You’re half witch, half Rucker,” Joe says. “It doesn’t happen very often; relationships with nonwitch people are discouraged. There are rules of magic that make relationships like that difficult.” He sighs. “I guess for the best, as I learned. Like I said, I was young.”

  “Almost certainly you have some witch powers,” Cassie adds.

  “Me?” Romy barks out a laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Have you never felt… different?” Cassie asks.

  Romy’s mouth snaps closed and she falls silent.

  “I’m sure if you think back on your life, you’ll recognize some moments… especially once you’ve been educated on the rules of magic.”

  “Magic. Educated.” Romy stares. “Educated how?”

  “We’d love to teach you,” Joe says. “When witches turn sixteen, they go to the Academy to complete a Diploma of Witchcraft. Since you didn’t do that, you can get a WED—Witch Equivalency Diploma. You just have to pass the exam.”

  “You could move in here,” Cassie says, leaning forward. “And live with us while you’re studying.”

  “I don’t even know you!”

  Cassie sits back, a hurt look on her face.

  “I mean, we just met,” Romy says. She may think we’re all bonkers, but she still doesn’t want to insult us. That’s actually kind of sweet. She stands, her eyes a bit wild. “I have to go. This is bizarre. You’ve been very nice to me, but I think it’s
best if we just go our separate ways.” Her smile is tight, but she’s making an effort to act normally even though I can read the fear in her eyes. She’s probably afraid we’re going to kidnap her and drink her blood or something and is trying to make a quick getaway. “I won’t tell anyone about this.” She backs away, waving her hands. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “Wait, Romy, you need to know…” Joe stands. “You can’t tell anyone.”

  She twists her fingers together. “I just said that.”

  “Seriously. You put lives at risk if you tell a Rucker.”

  Her eyes widen and her lips part. She’s fucking terrified. I shoot Joe a frown.

  “Oh my god,” she murmurs. “I have to go.”

  Joe steps forward. “Wait… I’ll drive you home—”

  “No! That’s okay!” She bolts from the room.

  We all look at each other.

  “Should I go after her?” Joe asks.

  “I think she’s scared,” I say. “Maybe not right now.”

  Felise and Magan slump. “Damn,” Felise mutters.

  “That didn’t go well,” Magan says with a sigh.

  “It’s understandable,” Cassie says. “Put yourself in her place.”

  “I know.” Felise pouts. “But we’re such great people. It’s hard to understand why someone wouldn’t want to be part of this family.”

  “I can understand it.” Magan rolls her eyes.

  One corner of my mouth lifts. “Maybe she needs time.”

  Everyone nods.

  Joe’s shoulders are hunched, his face wearing a pained expression. He’s been through this before with someone he cared about. I hate seeing him like this.

  What can I do? Anything?

  I stand. “I… think I know where she might be. I’ll go talk to her.”

  “Okay.” Cassie rises and comes to me for a hug. I give her a squeeze. “Thank you, Trace.”

  “G’night.”

  Outside, the heat of the day has dissipated with a cool breeze rustling the trees in the dark. I walk down the sidewalk to where I parked. I don’t have telepathy, but I’m pretty intuitive. So I get in my car and drive to the Singing Horse.

  I enter the dimly lit bar to music playing, voices chattering. Pausing at the door, I sweep the room with my gaze. It lands on Romy, sitting at the bar by herself, a glass in front of her, head bowed. The light above gleams on her dark hair, and her wilted posture tugs at something inside me. She was so happy earlier… meeting her new family, charming them, clearly thrilled to be part of it all. And now… she looks so dejected.