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Big Witch Energy

Page 17

by Kelly Jamieson


  “Yeah.” He grimaces. “Back in the seventies, I think. The good news is the original marble tiles are under the vinyl.”

  “Why would they put vinyl over it?”

  “It’s a mystery. I often ask myself that when we’re renovating houses. Some of the things people do are weird. And this is the main bedroom.” He walks in. It’s at the front of the house so it has four narrow windows in the area I think of as a turret. “I did redecorate this room and the bathroom. I couldn’t handle the red paint on the walls.”

  Cheddar jumps onto the big bed using a strategically placed ottoman, and lays down, smiling at us. I grin.

  The new wall color, a soft taupe, is calm and understated. The huge bed is a focal point, with a tufted upholstered headboard and snow-white linens. There’s not much more than that in the room. An open door gives me a peek into a big closet.

  “Still decorating work to do,” Trace says. “But it’s livable.”

  “It’s lovely.” I walk over and sit on the bed, stroking my hand along Cheddar’s back. “I like your house. So many possibilities.”

  “There’s a full basement too. I didn’t show you because it’s just full of boxes right now, but it could be another living area.” He sits beside me, slides his hand over my cheek, and kisses me.

  My mouth opens to him instinctively. I can’t even describe the feelings his kisses give me—the belly-flipping lust, yes, the heat, the ache, the swelling of my breasts—but also a spinny, drugged feeling, a sense of rightness and belonging. I lean into him, tilting my head, gripping his thigh as our lips and tongues and teeth play and nibble and tease.

  He eases me down to my back, leaning over me to devour my mouth, one hand finding my breast, cuddling it in his palm. I arch my back and moan against his lips. “I’ve been thinking about this,” I whisper. “For days.”

  “Me too. Hang on.” He lifts his head and nudges Cheddar. “Down, Cheddar.”

  With her head hanging, she jumps off the bed. Aw. “Good girl,” I murmur.

  Trace skates his hand down to my hip and grips it as his mouth slides over my cheek. “I’ve been thinking about this too. I have so much fun with you.” His teeth graze my jaw. “And also I want to fuck you until you can’t walk.”

  A lightning bolt of heat flashes through me. I feel the same about him. Just talking to him is so much fun. Walking in the park. Cleaning up litter. And this… this is more than fun. It’s… everything.

  I’m falling in love with this man.

  I turn in to him and hook my leg over his. “Do that. Please.”

  18

  Trace

  I don’t hear about Romy’s interview in front of the Board of Elders from her… I hear it from a bunch of people. My phone blows up Friday morning with texts from various people in the coven with connections to the board. Everyone knows I’ve been working with Romy to prepare her for her WED.

  What the hell are you teaching that witch?

  She’s pissed off the BoE, she’s toast.

  Ziggy thinks she’s, and I’m quoting, radical and unmanageable.

  What the fuck? What happened? What did they ask her? What did she do?

  Then Joe appears in my office door. His face wears a confused expression. “Trace. What happened at the interview yesterday?”

  “I have no idea.” I hold up my phone. “But apparently something happened.”

  He shakes his head. “Have you talked to Romy?”

  “No. I’ll call her. Or do you want to?” Unease shifts in my gut. Joe has no idea I’m banging his daughter.

  “You call her. I’ll be in my office.” He disappears.

  I sigh and hit Call on my phone.

  It rings a few times. Maybe she’s in a meeting or something. Then she answers, and I can tell from the tone of her voice she was considering letting my call go to voice mail. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” I pause. “You’re at work?”

  “Yeah.” She sighs. “I screwed up, Trace.”

  I bite my lips. “Um. Well, I’m hearing some things, but I wanted to talk to you.”

  She sniffs. Ah shit, is she crying? “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  My chest clenches at her unhappiness. “What happened?”

  At first I think she’s not going to answer. Then she says, “I was trying to be innovative. In my world, that’s a good thing.”

  “Okay.” I rub the back of my head. “Oh, wait. I’m getting another call.” I check and it’s Ziggy Cox. Holy shit. I go back to Romy. “Listen, let’s have lunch. You can tell me about it then.”

  She sounds despondent. “Okay.”

  We arrange to meet at a place near her office, and I quickly take Ziggy’s call.

  “Trace,” he says. “How are you?” I hear the terseness in his voice.

  We make meaningless small talk, and then he jumps to it. “Romy Larson.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve been tutoring her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where the hell is she getting these ridiculous ideas?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What ridiculous ideas?”

  “The iPad? Pinterest? The apps?”

  “Apps?”

  “Yeah. She thinks she can do witchcraft with apps.”

  I purse my lips, considering that. She probably can. But Ziggy clearly doesn’t agree. “She works in technology. It’s understandable that she would want to solve problems with technology.”

  “She’s trying to fix things that aren’t broken!”

  “Not broken, no. But maybe there are better ways.”

  “We’ve always done it that way!”

  I knew he was going to say that.

  I recall my argument with Joe about having a website for the business. About using more computerized systems. He said the same. I managed to win him over although there are still things I think we could do differently. I reminded him about the invention of power tools and how that changed the industry. I convinced him that bid management apps would help us be more competitive. Now I’m working on him about Building Information Modeling, which uses 3D models to improve collaboration among stakeholders on a project, and the importance of energy efficiency.

  I know where Romy’s coming from.

  I rub the back of my neck. “I’m meeting her for lunch. I’ll talk to her about it. But Ziggy, in the end, isn’t the most important thing that she learns all our values and how to use her power appropriately?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “We all do things a little differently, but if the result is the same, does it really matter?”

  “Okay, I get what you’re saying, but speaking of values… she asked us why there are no women on the Board of Elders. Or why there has never been a woman archmage.”

  I bite back a smile. “Oh. And what did you answer?”

  He makes a frustrated noise.

  “I’m sure it’s not because women aren’t capable of doing it.” My tone is dry.

  “Trace.”

  “Times change, Ziggy. We need to adapt.”

  “You’re supposed to be training her, Trace. Not her brainwashing you.”

  It’s almost funny, but I’m suddenly pissed and out of patience. “I’m hardly brainwashed,” I bite out. “I’ll admit I was taken aback when she started using her iPad to take notes and made that her grimoire. But it’s working for her, so why not? She’s a brilliant woman with amazing intuition and probably extraordinary powers. We need to develop that, not discourage her. She spent her whole life up until now having her nature and powers repressed. We are not going to continue that.”

  Heavy silence.

  Aaaaaand… I remember who I’m talking to.

  “You don’t get to tell us what we are going to do and not do.” Ziggy’s voice is terse.

  Shit.

  “The board is riled up over this. They’re not exactly pleased with you either since you’re the one tutoring her.”

  I frown. They’re blaming me?


  “There could be consequences for you,” he adds.

  My eyes spring open wide. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re a respected member of the coven, Trace. Your parents were both greatly admired. We’ve always thought you’d follow in your father’s footsteps. But you’re acting like your teenage self all over again.”

  What. The. Fuck. “What kind of consequences?” I demand, my tone hard.

  “You could be limiting your options when it comes to leading the coven.”

  I didn’t think I had options. But hearing this pisses me off even more.

  “Worst-case scenario, you could have your powers revoked.”

  My hand grips my phone so tightly it’s in danger of cracking. I strive for a calm tone. “That seems pretty severe for the situation.”

  “Well, that would be worst case. But you need to talk to Ms. Larson.”

  “Oh, I’ll talk to her. But heads-up—I’m not going to tell her stop with the innovation.”

  Silence. “Give this some careful thought, Trace.”

  I end the call. Fucking hell.

  Getting in trouble with the Board of Elders is never a good thing. Romy’s off to a rocky start, and I’m pulled into it too.

  I don’t give a shit. I’ll defend her and her right to do her magic any way she wants as long as it’s within our values.

  There’s no way they can remove my powers for this. That’s ludicrous. That would be reserved for grievous wrongs.

  I killed my family, and they didn’t take my powers away then. Why would they do it now?

  A few months ago, I wouldn’t have cared. Magic was worthless to me. But now…

  Despite Ziggy’s threats, I can’t help the intense pride I feel for Romy. She made an impression even if they didn’t like it, and it’s because she’s smart and determined. She doesn’t give up even when things get hard, and she’s always trying to fix things and make things better.

  I have a couple of meetings this morning, and I focus on work instead of Romy until it’s lunchtime and I can take off. I head to the Loop and find parking, then jog to the restaurant since I’m running late thanks to goddamn traffic. I meet her at Murphy’s Pub, an old-school place with dark wood, red leather seating, and low lighting. She’s already in a booth and waves at me.

  Just seeing her lights up my insides. Her bright smile, her happy eyes… She’s beautiful and surprising and fantastic. I lean down to kiss her before I slide into the booth opposite her, and I have to force myself to not extend the kiss into pushing her down onto the seat and climbing on top of her.

  Her eyes sparkle as I meet them across the table. “I feel better now.”

  “Me too.” One corner of my mouth lifts.

  “What’s wrong?” Her eyebrows push together.

  “Ziggy called me.”

  “Oh shit. Was I that bad?”

  “Well, sweet thing, you definitely got their attention.”

  “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “Who knows?” I slide a menu closer to me.

  The waitress arrives at our table, and I order fish and chips. Romy gets a Cobb salad.

  “Okay, tell me how it went from your perspective.”

  She tells me about the interview and the things she’s been doing with apps. “I thought I was showing initiative. I always get rated highly on that on my performance reviews.”

  My lips twitch. “I guess this is sort of like that.”

  “But I didn’t mean to insult them. It seemed like I offended them.” She sighs. “I guess I came on too strong.”

  “Considering you’re brand-new, maybe so. Obviously I know you didn’t mean to insult them. But they don’t. They don’t know you as well as I do.”

  Our lunches arrive, and we spend a minute arranging things, having our water glasses refilled, and picking up cutlery.

  Romy gazes at me as she stabs her fork into an avocado chunk. “So what do I do?”

  “Well. I totally get where you’re coming from.” I share some of my discussions with Joe about improving our business using technology. “And after spending time with you, I don’t see that you’re hurting anything. Keeping things the same just because that’s the way we’ve always done it isn’t a good strategy.”

  “It isn’t in business. We always say those are the seven most expensive words: because we’ve always done it this way.”

  I laugh. “Yeah.”

  “But… a coven isn’t a business.”

  “That’s true. But that’s not to say we couldn’t learn some new things.”

  She sucks on her bottom lip, lowers her chin, and looks up at me through her eyelashes. “So you’re on my side?”

  My heart knocks around in my chest. “There aren’t sides. We’re all witches. But yeah… I support you, Romy.”

  Her eyes glisten. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  “Maybe just slowing down might help. Backing off. Give everyone a chance to absorb what you’re doing.”

  She nods eagerly. “I can slow down. Should I apologize to them?”

  “That probably wouldn’t hurt. You can tell them what you told me—that you didn’t intend to offend them. Explain your motivations.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” She takes a deep breath. “I feel better now.”

  “Finish your lunch.” I nod at her barely touched salad. Meanwhile, I’m plowing through the fish and chips.

  “Can I have a fry?”

  I blink, then grin. “Sure.”

  She reaches over to snag one and pops it in her mouth. “Yes, I am that girl. I will order a salad and steal your fries.”

  “You can have all the fries you want.”

  Our eyes meet, and somehow this discussion makes me feel closer to her. Like we’re on the same wavelength. I already knew that… but this really crystallizes in my mind that I do support her. And I will support her… no matter what.

  Even if that means losing my powers?

  I break out in a sweat. It won’t come to that. Surely to Mattsowder.

  “I’m sorry you were dragged into this,” she says. “Mr. Cox shouldn’t have called you.”

  “He knows I’ve been working with you.”

  She frowns. “It feels a little paternalistic to me. I can speak for myself.”

  Huh. You know what? She is totally right. The more I think about that, the angrier I get. My back molars grind together briefly. Why the fuck was Ziggy calling me? She’s an independent, strong-minded woman, and that’s something that should be valued, not disparaged. “Yes. You are absolutely right,” I finally say. “Next time I’ll tell him that.”

  “Oh.” Her eyelashes flutter, and she presses her hand to her heart. “Thank you, Trace. But also, hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

  Somehow I have a feeling there will.

  “It doesn’t cause trouble for you, does it?” Her forehead furrows.

  I haven’t told her what Ziggy said to me. And I don’t plan to. She feels badly enough. “I doubt it.”

  She studies my face. “Felise and Magan told me that you have a future on the Board of Elders.”

  I roll my eyes. “Nope. I don’t see that happening.”

  “Why not?” Her gaze is steady.

  “I don’t want to be part of that. Long story. It’s in the past.” I feel a nudge of guilt at not being honest with her. She’s been nothing but honest with me. But she doesn’t need to know what a worthless witch I am. “What time do you have to be back at work?”

  She checks her phone for the time. “Ack! I better get going.”

  “I’ll walk with you.”

  I take care of the check, and we leave and amble along the sidewalk. The sky looks like one of Romy’s watercolor paintings in shades of smoke and silver, the air humid with no breeze at all. Romy makes a turn and stops in front of a tall office building. “This is where I work.”

  I slide my gaze away from the granite-and-glass lobby to look upward. “Nice.”

  “It’s okay.” She smi
les. “Thank you for lunch. And the pep talk and advice.”

  “You’re welcome.” I set my hands on her waist and give her a lingering kiss. “Talk later, okay?”

  She nods and disappears into the building.

  I walk past her building to the parking garage where I left my truck. This morning after her and Ziggy’s calls I was annoyed and frustrated. But after talking to Romy, after calming her down and listening to her perspective, I feel better myself. Things will be fine.

  Back to work. I head to a reno project we’re doing in Ukrainian Village.

  * * *

  ROMY

  * * *

  I’m crushed about messing up the interviews. I was eager to please and wanted to show that I can bring something different to the witch world. I didn’t realize I was going to piss everybody off.

  I just got home from work, and I’m lying on my bed, curled on my side. I hate feeling like this—like a loser. My insides are tied up in knots, and my temples throb.

  I keep beating myself up over it. I hate it that they involved Trace, and I also hate it that they called Joe. What a great way to pay back everybody who’s helped me! I feel like a failure as a witch and as a family member.

  Trace made me feel better though. The fact that he’d stick up for me just about knocked me off my seat in that booth at Murphy’s Pub. I was so filled with gratitude and elation I wanted to launch myself across the table and squeeze him until he couldn’t breathe. I wanted to drag him back to my place and do filthy things to him to show my appreciation. And… my love.

  Yep. I’m falling in love.

  Which is Not Good because obviously I’m never going to be good enough for him. He’s a special witch, and I’m a screwup. Not only did I humiliate myself, I humiliated him. Also, he clearly values his relationship with the Candlers too much to put it at risk.

  Tonight Kesha and Hannah and I are going to the Singing Horse. We haven’t been out for a while, and I invited Felise and Magan to join us. They’re going to come later. We’re all going to sing karaoke.

 

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