Big Witch Energy

by Kelly Jamieson

  “I should go too,” Romy says.

  “When should we start your lessons?” I ask. “How’s this weekend?”

  “Saturday mornings I teach art classes at Fullerton Gallery.”

  “It would be so much easier if you lived here,” Cassie says. “Trace is here all the time anyway.”

  “I can’t move in here,” Romy says with a gentle smile. “But thank you.”

  “Why not? We have lots of room.”

  “I’m twenty-seven years old. I need to live on my own. I have my condo.”

  “I want to see where you live,” Felise announces. “When can we come over?”

  “Anytime.”

  Before I leave the Candlers’ home that evening, Romy has Felise and Magan going to visit her tomorrow night and me coming to start tutoring on Saturday. They all exchange phone numbers and email addresses. She gives Felise and Magan her address.

  “You better give it to Trace too,” Magan says.

  “Oh, I—” My eyes meet Romy’s. “Right,” I say casually. “I’ll text you.”

  She bites her lip and nods.

  * * *

  ROMY

  * * *

  “I like your place,” Felise says as she and Magan walk into my condo. Her head is swiveling as she takes everything in. “It has character.”

  “Thanks. I like it.”

  “High ceilings. Nice woodwork. Great floors. That fireplace is gorgeous.”

  “Oh right, I forget you come from a construction family.”

  Felise grins. “I’ve learned a few things.” She tilts her head. “It’s just… a lot of gray.”

  I blink. The walls are gray, yes. My furniture is gray. The bathrooms are both gray and white. “Gray goes with anything.”

  I show them my two bedrooms, the small one that I use as an office and the bigger principal bedroom with its own bathroom.

  “Oh, a deck!” Magan heads to the sliding doors.

  Felise follows. She fingers the fabric of my drapes as she steps outside. “Gray curtains,” she murmurs.

  I frown. “They were there when I bought this place.”

  They check out my outdoor furniture—yes, the cushions are charcoal—and the view of the treetops from the third floor.

  “This is amazing!” Felise holds on to the railing and looks out. “Maybe we should get our own place, Magan.”

  “We totally should. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

  “How much did this cost you?” Felise asks.

  When I tell her, she blanches. “Okay, that’s why we don’t have our own place. We barely make a profit at the store.”

  “Well, maybe your new website will help.”

  The Candlers are obviously well off. Their house is a mansion with expensive finishes, the yard as big as a park. They all wear stylish and clearly expensive clothes. I don’t know if they make a lot of money in the construction business or if Felise and Magan support themselves from their shop or if they all just conjure up money.

  Oh wait… you can’t conjure money. My first witch lesson.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” I ask. “We can sit out here. It’s a nice evening.”

  “Perfect!”

  I go pour glasses of rosé and arrange a plate of cheeses and crackers I picked up on my way home from work, then carry them outside.

  “I do love it out here,” I say. “It’s a little oasis in the middle of the city for me.”

  “I love it too.” Felise sits and stretches her legs out on the chaise.

  I hand her a glass of wine, then Magan, and set the cheese plate on the small table.

  “I had help buying this place,” I tell them. “My mom owned a little house over in Belmont Gardens. When she passed away, I inherited it. I thought about staying there, but I felt like I needed a change. My own space. So I sold it. The equity helped out buying this place.”

  “You did good,” Felise says. She sips her wine. “I’m sure Mom and Dad would help us too if we wanted to move out.”

  “They seem like pretty cool parents,” I venture. “If you have to still live at home.”

  “Well, Mom’s a terrible cook. And Dad can be a little overprotective. Mom kind of settles him down though.”

  “She’s a terrible cook? The food was great when I was there.”

  They both laugh.

  “She can’t even boil toast,” Felise says.

  I choke on a laugh. “I see she’s passed her skills on to you.”

  Felise grins. “She uses magic a lot.”

  “Ohhhhh.” I contemplate that. “Whipping up a gourmet dinner would be a lot easier with magic.”

  “It’s a skill that has to be learned.” Magan smiles. “You can probably do it. Are you sure you’ve never accidentally cast a spell or an enchantment?”

  I grimace. “No!” I pause. “Well. I’m not sure.” I tell them about Sophia Carmichael ridiculing my flat chest. And the homeless man.

  “You have,” Felise says with a knowing nod. “You just didn’t realize it.”

  Really? “That’s… wow.”

  “It’ll just be a matter of learning how to control your power,” Magan says. “And of course learning the rules. You don’t want to get in trouble with the Board of Elders.”

  I bite my lip. “Is that like the witch police?”

  Felise grins. “Sort of.”

  Am I living in an alternate reality? Because this is bananas. But whatever.

  “Trace will teach you all you need to know,” Magan says. “He’s so smart, and of course powerful.”

  “It sounds like his family was very important.”

  “Yes.” Both Felise and Magan’s lips droop. “Trace’s father was a supreme wizard. And his family has been archmages going back centuries, so it’s almost certain he will be too.”

  “Um… archmage?”

  Felise explains. “The Orb of Night is governed by the Board of Elders, who are appointed by the supreme wizards, who are the most powerful witches. The board creates and institutes the laws that govern us. The head of the Board of Witches is the archmage.”

  “Ah.” That explains Trace’s big witch energy. “Does he want to be archmage?”

  They stare at me as if I just asked if the sky is blue.

  “Of course,” Felise says slowly. “Who wouldn’t?”

  “What about you?” I ask her. “Or you, Magan?”

  “There’s never been a woman archmage.”

  My jaw drops. “What? Why not?”

  They exchange a look. “I guess no woman’s ever wanted to,” Magan replies.

  “Well, that’s bullshit.”

  They laugh.

  “Yeah, it is,” Felise agrees.

  “That shouldn’t stop you if you want to do that. Or any woman.” I roll my eyes. “Sheesh.”

  “Our coven may be a little patriarchal,” Magan says.

  “Doesn’t that bother you?” These two young women seem strong-willed and spirited.

  “I don’t have big ambitions,” Felise says slowly. “Maybe I should?”

  “Oh, I’m not saying that! You do you and all that. As long as you’re happy.”

  “I love our little shop,” Felise says. “I would like to grow our business though.”

  “I want to see it.”

  “Come by this weekend.”

  “Trace and I are meeting Saturday afternoon.”

  “We’re open Sundays. Noon to six.”

  “Okay. That’ll be fun.”

  I feel like I should be asking them bigger, deeper questions about being a witch. But I don’t even know what to ask. It’s all so bizarre. I’m still me, and yet I feel different, even though I haven’t done any real magic yet. I feel like I’m a little bit… special. Something I’ve never in my life experienced. I’ve felt different. I’ve felt like I couldn’t live up to my mom’s expectations of me. But I’ve never felt special.

  I also want to ask questions about Trace. I have a deep curiosity about everythin
g about him. Why he has no girlfriend. Why he’s so good-looking. Ha. Why he seems so irked at having to train me. But I keep my lips zipped on all subjects Trace.

  “Would you like another glass of wine?” I offer, rising.

  “Sit down.” Felise waves a hand at me. She points at our glasses and twirls her finger and… they’re full.

  I blink. Whoa. Now that’s a handy skill.

  We share stories about our lives growing up and drink more wine, and then my sisters—it’s still weird to think that—declare it time to leave. We exchange hugs at my door.

  “I’m so glad we found you,” Felise says. She’s always forthcoming about her feelings. She tilts her head. “It’s so weird that I had a feeling I needed to do that DNA test.”

  “You really didn’t have a reason?”

  “No.” Her gaze drifts over my shoulder. “Just that feeling.”

  “We’ll see you Sunday,” Magan says.

  “I can’t wait.”

  I close the door behind them, lean against it, and stare across my condo. I took the step. Made the leap. I might be leaping off a cliff into complete darkness. I don’t know what I’m getting into. But so far… it’s been pretty good.

  Now I just have to deal with Trace.

  11

  Trace

  I can’t say no to Joe. Even though I’d rather take out my own tonsils.

  When he asked me to be Romy’s mentor and help her prepare for her WED, we had a short, terse discussion. He told me I need to do some kind of good if I ever want to become a supreme wizard. I told him the last thing I want is to become a supreme wizard. He said, “Trace. It’s in your blood.”

  I grind my back molars. Joe seems to think it’s my destiny. Maybe it was, but not anymore.

  I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to draw me back into the coven. And magic. Well, it won’t work.

  On top of all that, I’m not a teacher. And clearly Romy’s not even sure she wants to be taught. She still thinks we’re all nuts. So I don’t know how this is going to go.

  Also, there’s the issue of her only being half witch. This rarely happens, and to be honest I don’t know how this affects her powers.

  And… there’s the little matter of my being insanely attracted to her. Like, I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t stop remembering how she tastes, how she felt in my arms. I can’t stop seeing her smile.

  She feels it too. When we were with the family, she kept looking at me. Like I was her lodestone, keeping her grounded. There’s a magnetic connection between us that makes this whole thing really fucking awkward.

  Cassie’s shrewd, and I caught her watching me and Romy. Joe, not so much. I mean, he’s smart about a lot of things, but when it comes to sensing people’s feelings, he’s usually oblivious. What would he think if he knew I wanted to fuck his daughter senseless? Somehow I don’t think he’d be impressed.

  He trusts me with her, and I have to live up to that. Even though the lessons I most want to teach her are in bed. Or on the floor. Maybe in her shower.

  But I can’t say no to Joe, because he fucking saved my life after I destroyed it. So I arrive at Romy’s place at one o’clock Saturday afternoon, ready to do my duty.

  When she opens the door, she eyes the stack of old books I’m carrying. “What the…?”

  “A little light reading material.” I walk in and set them down on her kitchen counter.

  “Yikes.”

  I turn to face her. Aw hell, she looks amazing. Those long bangs really emphasize her gorgeous eyes. I guess I should have recognized her eyes, that unique sparkling sapphire shade Joe and both his daughters possess. Romy’s eyes are big and framed with long, dark eyelashes. Her small mouth is pinched, a flush staining her high cheekbones. She’s dressed in ripped jeans and a gray T-shirt that says idk google it.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll give you ample time to do your homework.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Where should we work?” I look around. “Nice condo, by the way.” I study the high ceilings, woodwork, the tile of the fireplace, which is nicely done. The floors are a really nice dark-finished oak. The kitchen appears to be recently renovated, with stainless appliances and dark granite countertops.

  “Thanks. I have an office. We can go in there.” She leads the way down the hall, turning in to the first room. A long desk sits against one wall beneath the window, with a computer, monitor, and printer. On an adjacent wall is a small couch that looks like it folds down into a bed.

  I set the books on the floor and take a seat on the couch. Romy pulls over a small table and her desk chair. She sets a tablet on the table. “Okay! I’m ready.”

  “You’re freaking out about this, aren’t you?”

  “No! I’m fine!”

  “It’s okay, Romy. I know this is weird for you.”

  “Weird. Well. Yes.” She meets my eyes briefly, then her gaze skitters away. “So.” She waves a hand at the books. “Can’t you just wave a magic wand and put all that knowledge into my head?”

  I grin. “We don’t use wands. You’re thinking of Harry Potter. And no. Witches have to hit the books and cram for exams just like Ruckers. There’s no spell, chant, or potion that can give someone unlimited knowledge.”

  She sighs. “I was afraid of that.”

  “There are other things we can’t change. Aging. Immortality.”

  “So we’re all going to get old and die.”

  “Yep. Also…” I hesitate. “Resurrection isn’t possible. We can’t bring witches back to life.” I try to keep my tone neutral, but her eyes are alert and fastened on my face. She nods slowly.

  “So.” I heave a big brown book up and set it on the table. “This is a good text to start with. There’s a lot of history in here.” I open the hard cover, and dust swirls up from the pages.

  Romy wrinkles her nose. “Haven’t you guys heard of e-books?”

  I give a strained laugh. “Funny.”

  “Seriously, why can’t this whole thing be an online course?”

  I stare at her. “Uh…”

  “Sorry. I’ll shut up. Go ahead.”

  “Okay. Well. The number one witch rule to learn is that you can never, ever drink peanut butter whiskey again.”

  Her eyes widen. Then she sees I’m joking and throws her head back to laugh.

  Christ, I love that laugh. I can’t stop my smile.

  “Don’t say that!” she wheezes. “It was pretty good.”

  “If you say so. Okay. Seriously. Let me just start off by saying that witchcraft isn’t just fun and games. Having these abilities is great, but…”

  “With great power comes great responsibility.”

  Another smile breaks free. “Yeah. This book…” I lift another one and set it on top of the first. “…has all the terminology you’ll need to know. I suggest you become familiar with it as soon as possible.”

  “When can I take my WED test?”

  “You have thirteen moons from the date you learned you were a witch to take the test.”

  She blinks. “Thirteen moons?”

  “Basically, a year. It’s already scheduled.”

  “I have to wait a whole year?”

  “There’s a lot to learn. You’re trying to cram two years of learning into one.”

  “I’m a quick learner.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “What? You doubt me?” She glares.

  I hold up my hands. “No, no! I’m just saying… we’ll see how things go.”

  “What if it takes me longer than a year?”

  I hesitate. But she needs to know this. “If you don’t take the test within a year—and pass—you lose all your powers. Forever.”

  “Oh.” She blinks. “No pressure at all then.”

  I chuckle. “You said you’re a quick learner.”

  She makes a face. “Okay then.” She hesitates. “Is there…?”

  “What?”

  “Is there black magic?”

&nbs
p; “Oh yeah. There are witches who use their powers for dark purposes. We learn spells for a variety of outcomes, but ones that are used for negative or harmful reasons are hexes and curses.”

  “Will I learn how to do those?”

  “Of course. But like I said… there are consequences for abusing power.”

  “Right. The witch police.”

  “The… what?”

  She grimaces. “I was talking to Magan and Felise, and they told me about the witch police. The Board of Elders.”

  “Ah. Right.” I shake my head. “Don’t worry about that. You can get in trouble, but that’s why we’re doing this—so you know your limits. You’ll need to get a notebook to use as your book of shadows. It’s your personal grimoire, where you can keep track of instructions for spells, hexes, rituals. Also recipes and any questions you might have.”

  “That’s what this is.” She taps her tablet.

  I frown. Everyone I know writes things down in a notebook.

  “What’s a grimoire?”

  “It’s a magic textbook.” I pick up another book. “This is a grimoire. There are instructions for creating talismans and amulets, how to perform magical spells, charms, and divinations, and how to summon or invoke supernatural entities.”

  “Supernatural.” She swallows. “Like angels and devils?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Ghosts?”

  Our eyes meet, and the memory of that night at the Granger house, dancing in the ballroom and seeing and feeling the ghost, slides into my head. Romy’s thinking about it too.

  I knew when she saw that, there was something extraordinary about her. Not just that she was a witch; I thought she was a witch at that point. But even witches don’t always see ghosts, and when we both did, it was… magical.

  But I’m not just thinking about the ghost. I’m thinking about how she felt in my arms, the warm, vanilla-sugar scent of her, and then kissing her until we both needed to come up for air.

  The big guy downstairs stirs, and I resist the urge to adjust myself.

  “Yes,” I say, my voice ragged. “Ghosts. Demons. Deities.”

  “I see.” She clears her throat delicately.

  “All right.” I clap my hands together. “Let’s start with some basics. The Orb of Night is governed by the Board of Elders—”