Big Witch Energy

by Kelly Jamieson

  This room is cloaked. Anyone who is not a witch can’t see or enter. It’s entirely white with a long wall of windows overlooking the city and Lake Michigan. From here, all I see is blue—blue water, blue sky—and white.

  A long table stretches in front of the windows, and the Board of Elders sit at it with their backs to the window. The last time I was here, the room was smaller, but now somehow there are bleachers where my supporters all mill about taking seats. I walk to my chair at the front where I sat last time.

  I set my purse on the white carpet next to my chair, cross my ankles, and fold my hands in my lap as I wait. I’m shaking inside but working hard on appearing composed. I study the members of the board… all older men. And my annoyance is triggered all over again. This isn’t right.

  My anger fuels me as I stand to make my presentation to the board.

  “Thank you for allowing me to come back and speak to you,” I begin. “I very much appreciate it. I know that last time some of the things I shared with you caused some consternation among you and others in the coven, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to clear things up.”

  They all watch me unsmilingly.

  I clear my throat. “It was never my intention to cause trouble for anyone or to insult anyone. I’m sorry that my words offended. I’d like to explain where I’m coming from in some of my ideas and actions.”

  I tell them more details this time about how my mom raised me and how I suspect she kept my witch blood from me, how she steered me away from using intuition or instinct and to rely on logic and facts. Last time, I told them about my job, but this time I elaborate on the kinds of projects I work on, and although it feels like bragging, I share some of the high praise I’ve received from my bosses over the years. I talk about acting innovatively, being adaptable, and the problem analysis that I use in project work.

  “I’ve been studying very hard to prepare for my WED,” I continue. “But to prepare for today, I did some extracurricular research. I wanted to explore what Ruckers think of witches. To be honest, I never thought much about it before I discovered my witch family.” I pause to make eye contact with a couple of the men. “I learned that throughout history, witches have been typically thought of as female and have been a symbol of female empowerment. But with her magical powers, the witch is also a challenge to patriarchal narratives. Oppressors demonized witches and targeted free-thinking women.” I pause. “Society has always feared powerful women. Witches were women who stood apart, who refused to conform. That made them objects of fear, derision, and, unfortunately, violence. I’m grateful that doesn’t happen in the Orb of Night coven.” I give them a small smile.

  “Today social and political movements aim to define and establish the equality of the sexes—political, economic, personal, and social. Women have been treated unjustly. And while I’m happy that strong women witches aren’t being persecuted, I do feel that women in the coven aren’t given equal opportunities. Having strong, empowered witches of all genders will only make the coven stronger and more powerful… and isn’t that what we all want?”

  My companions behind me all let out a cheer. For a moment there’s bedlam in the boardroom. Then Ziggy, sitting in the middle of the table, bangs a golden gavel. “Order, order!” he barks. “Have you finished, Ms. Larson?”

  I smile. “Almost. I want to add that I know rules are important. We need rules to function. I’m working hard to learn the rules. My intention in creating apps was to be helpful, not harmful. I’ve been juggling a lot of things since I started my tutoring, and I needed ways to be efficient and save time. I think these things could be helpful to all witches, but I don’t intend to push anyone to use tools they’re not comfortable with.” I pause once more, take a breath, and let it out.

  “And the last thing I want to say is that Trace has been incredibly supportive and helpful to me. He’s so knowledgeable and patient. Please don’t blame him for any of this. And if you have further concerns about me, please come to me directly. Trace isn’t my keeper. I can speak for myself.”

  “Yes, you can, girl!” a voice shouts behind me.

  “Thank you for your time and attention today.” I take my seat.

  The room breaks out in thundering applause. I turn, my heart brimming with gratitude to these women and relief that I got through it without peeing my pants. I might have cast a small spell to prevent that from happening.

  22

  Romy

  “What are you doing here?” Ziggy greets one of the women as they all rise from their seats and mingle in the room.

  My mouth falls open, watching. It’s the girl who picks up Danny from my Saturday morning art classes. She’s a witch too!

  “Grandpa.” She hugs him. “Of course I’m here. I one hundred percent support everything Romy said.”

  Whoa. She’s Ziggy’s granddaughter!

  He studies her with a bemused expression on his face. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

  “Yes, she does. And she would have come too, but she had patients booked already.”

  Ziggy still stares. “Oh.”

  “Listen to Romy.” She pats her grandpa on the chest and turns away. Catching my eye, she smiles and winks, then disappears.

  “Let’s go for drinks!” Felise says to me, gripping my hand. “You did fantastic!”

  “Thank you.” I inhale a long breath. “A drink sounds great. Maybe ten.”

  She rounds up Magan and a few other of their close friends in the thinning crowd, and we leave the skyscraper. “There’s a wine bar just around the corner.” Felise points.

  We enter Acapella, a big, modern space with lots of tall windows on the main floor of another office tower. We’re seated at a table for six in front of windows looking into the office building lobby.

  “Let’s get a charcuterie board,” Felise suggests, studying the menu. “We can all share it.” She also orders bottles of wine for the table, prosecco, which we’re soon also sharing.

  “Congrats to Romy.” Magan picks up her glass in a toast. “You did fantastic today.”

  Everyone lifts their glasses, and I feel my cheeks warm. “Thanks, but we should wait and see what happens before congratulating me. I could have made things worse.”

  “They know they’re not just dealing with you now,” Saige says.

  “That’s right,” Ashlyn puts in.

  We talk more about some of the things I mentioned. Saige and Ashlyn haven’t seen my apps, so I show them and they are gratifyingly impressed. After Saige and Ashlyn leave, Felise orders another bottle of wine.

  “I’ll be too drunk to get home,” I complain.

  “It’s time for you to learn teleporting,” Felise says.

  I gape at them. “That’s a thing?”

  “Yes, but it’s very advanced.”

  “Oh my god, that’s the best thing in the world!”

  “You have to choose when to use it,” Magan cautions. “We’ll come with you the first time.”

  “Okay! Pour me another glass!”

  “You were so brave today,” Magan says, filling my glass. “I’m envious of your strength.”

  “Are you kidding me? I was a wreck! And you two are both strong. Trace said—” I stop.

  “What?” They both look at me.

  “Oh. Um. Trace said that being afraid is a reaction but being brave is a decision.”

  “Wow. He’s wise.” Felise purses her lips. “Did you tell him about doing this?”

  “Er, yes. But not about everyone else coming with me.”

  “He’s probably already heard.” Magan grins. “The witch grapevine is speedy.”

  My phone buzzes, and I pick it up. Trace. Biting my lip, I turn my phone facedown and set it back on the table.

  “I hope he doesn’t get in any more trouble,” Felise says. “It’s bad enough they threatened to take away his powers last time.”

  I choke on my prosecco. “They what?”

  “After your interview. Ziggy call
ed him.”

  “I know that, but… take away his powers?”

  “Yeah… he didn’t mention that?” Felise covers her mouth.

  “No! Good God. He said they were upset. I was upset that they called him. But… holy shit, that seems excessive!”

  “They won’t do it,” Magan says calmly, but her eyes watch me with interest.

  “That’s terrible!” My gaze bounces around the room. Heat slides up into my face, and I tug on the collar of my shirt. My breath comes in short rushes. I can’t believe this. I reach for my phone, then stop myself. “And it’s all my fault!” I press my hands to my hot face. “This is so bad.”

  “It’s okay,” Felise says. “Trace doesn’t blame you.” She frowns. “I don’t think he does.”

  “Well, he should. I’ve messed up so many things, but this is the worst.” I meet their eyes. “He was totally supportive of me and what I wanted to say.” I drag in a shaky breath as it hits me. “Even if it made things worse for him.” Tears spring to the corners of my eyes. “Oh no.”

  Felise and Magan exchange a look, then face me again. “What’s going on with you two?” Felise asks quietly.

  “Nothing!” I swipe a finger below my eyes. “He’s just been so good to me, and… and…” I sniff. I can’t cry now. “I feel terrible.”

  They shouldn’t know about us. Obviously, they suspect something. Should I tell them?

  They’re my sisters. Lying or avoiding things isn’t the way to build a relationship with someone. But… Trace. He doesn’t want them to know.

  I slump in my seat and let my head fall back. “Oh my god.”

  “What?” Magan asks, sounding genuinely worried. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” I straighten my shoulders and lift my head to focus on them sitting across the table, wearing identical expressions of concern. I have to keep this secret for Trace.

  I hate not being honest with my sisters. I think the time has come to face reality.

  What did I think was going to happen with Trace and me? Clearly he doesn’t want long-term. He’s worried about how this would affect his relationship with the Candlers, who are not just his family but his employer. How could I have put him in such a position?

  And now… it’s even worse than that. He’s in trouble with the Board of Elders because of me.

  “I’ve made things even worse for him with the board. He could lose his powers because of me!” My insides do a slow, sickening roll. I swipe a hand across my clammy forehead.

  “He won’t,” Magan soothes. “I’m sure that won’t happen.”

  “After today? Maybe more so!”

  Felise twists a piece of hair. Magan rubs her eyebrow. They exchange glances in the wordless communication they always do.

  “I know,” I say. “I feel terrible. Worse than terrible. I don’t know what to do. I need to apologize to Trace.” I pause, my throat constricting. I need to do more than that. I need to end things with him. I know my analysis skills are not at their sharpest at this moment. Not only am I shook, I’ve had a lot of wine. “I need to go home.”

  “That’s a good idea. We’ll come with you. Just let us settle up the check.” Magan pushes back her chair and takes off.

  “I’ll pay for it!” I call.

  She ignores me.

  Felise reaches across the table and takes my hand. “We’ve got this.”

  “Thank you. Sorry I’m being such a downer.”

  “We shouldn’t have told you that,” Felise mutters. “Trace is going to be angry with us.”

  “I should have known about it. He should have told me.”

  Magan returns. “Ladies’ room,” she says.

  I follow them down a short hall and into a tiny restroom. “Hold our hands,” Felise says, extending hers to me. “Hang on tight.”

  I clasp their hands, and then everything goes dark. I have a sensation of floating. It’s not unpleasant… but I can’t see anything. Then I’m standing in my living room, still holding their hands.

  “Whoa.” I look around. “That was cool.”

  “Yeah. As always, you need to be careful though. I once ended up in Cleveland by mistake.”

  One corner of my mouth lifts. “Oops.”

  “Are you okay?” Magan sets her hand on my shoulders.

  “I will be.”

  “Do you want us to stay? We can listen. I’m a good listener.” She nods at Felise. “She’s not, but we can fix that.” In a flash, Felise’s lips have been turned into a zipper.

  “Mmmph! Ummmph!” Felise scowls and waves her hands.

  Magan relents and turns her lips back to normal.

  “I’ll be okay,” I say. “I think I need to be alone and think things through.”

  “Okay. But we can be here in a jiff.” Magan hugs me, then moves aside for Felise.

  She gives me a squeeze. “Love you. Call us for anything, okay?”

  I choke up again and nod.

  Then I’m alone.

  I kick off my heels and unzip my skirt as I walk to my bedroom. First thing to do is get out of these clothes.

  I change into pajamas and climb into bed with my phone. I’ve been afraid to look at it after I saw the text from Trace.

  Okay, several texts from Trace. Yes, he heard what happened today. But he doesn’t seem angry. He seems… proud. That changed to concern when I didn’t text him back. I sigh.

  Hi. I’m home and fine. Super tired. Maybe a little drunk. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

  There’s a missed call from Joe, texts from Kesha and Hannah, and a meme from Felise with a picture of a witch in a pointy hat that says Some days you just have to put on the hat to remind them who they’re dealing with. A reluctant smile tugs my lips.

  I drop my phone onto the bed. I’ll deal with those tomorrow.

  Some of the wine has worn off, and my thinking is clearer. I pull up my analytical skills. First identify the problem.

  I love Trace. And I’ve messed up his life.

  Possible solutions? Get out of his life. I can’t do that entirely; we’re connected by family, which we always knew was a problem. But I can end things with us. And apologize.

  But I love him.

  Or… what? What other solution is there?

  Okay, okay. This isn’t working. Love isn’t a project. I don’t think I can analyze my way out of this. Too many feelings of too many people are involved.

  I blow out a long breath.

  I could end things without telling him how I feel. We could part amicably and still see each other occasionally as part of the family. Oh, and at work now. Shit. That decision’s coming back to bite me on the ass.

  I’ll be sad because I love Trace and I’ll miss him.

  Sad. Sure.

  So many times I’ve wondered why I’m doing this. And now… I still don’t know. I’ve messed up so much. I’ve caused problems for the people I’ve come to love. I don’t think my witch skills will ever be as good as Trace’s or even Felise’s and Magan’s. It’s depressing.

  Of course I keep reliving my failures and worrying about whether I helped or hurt things when I met with the board again. Have I made a huge mistake leaving my job to work at Dream Homes? I’ll have to see Trace every day there, not to mention family dinners and holidays and weddings. The overwhelming feeling of despondency drags me down. I feel like I’m sinking into a pit of quicksand.

  I’m heartbroken. I’m sad. I’ve never had feelings like this for someone before. I’m questioning every decision I’ve made over the past seven months.

  I’m tired.

  But even breaking things off with Trace doesn’t totally solve the problem. My poor performance as a witch reflects badly on him.

  Everyone says Trace has a future as a supreme wizard and maybe an elder of the coven because of his family history and his big witch energy. I can’t risk jeopardizing that. I can’t risk his place in the Candler family or at Dream Homes.

  I know what I have to do.

  It’
s the weekend, so I don’t have to see Trace at work. I text him and ask him to not come for tutoring because I’m not feeling well. I go to my art class at the museum. The kids distract me from my heartache, and after they’re gone, I stay for a while and paint. I end up with a new watercolor painting to frame and hang, but I’m running out of room at my condo. Maybe I need to add these to my Etsy store.

  I stop for lunch on my way home, sitting in a window seat in a little café to eat my sandwich, taking my time since I don’t have to rush home to meet Trace. After that, I wander into a couple of little nearby shops. I see the cutest pair of black suede booties, and I love them. So I buy them.

  They don’t make me feel any better.

  At home, I drop my shopping bag and purse on a living room chair. I head into my office, where I’d normally be right now with Trace. The books sit on the coffee table, and I lower myself to the couch and run my fingers over them. Stupid dusty old books. But I kind of like them. They have a sense of history and continuity that I’ve come to appreciate.

  Sadly I pile them into a neat stack and leave my office.

  As usual, Cassie has a family dinner planned for Sunday evening. This will be the perfect time to tell them the decision I’ve come to.

  I’ve avoided Trace all weekend, and I hate it.

  I don’t care what I look like, but pride makes me put on a little makeup and pick a nice dress to wear, a black-and-cream-print flowy dress that goes nearly to my ankles. I wear the new booties I bought yesterday. Hot pink lipstick adds some color to my face.

  I press a hand to my stomach where a flock of small birds flap their wings. I can do this.

  As usual, there is no smell of cooking food when I arrive at Cassie and Joe’s, yet I’m sure she’s conjuring up something amazing. Something I probably won’t be able to eat more than two bites of because my stomach feels like a giant fist is clenching it.

  I greet everyone with warm hugs. I’m used to the hugs now. In fact, I like them.

  Cassie conjures a glass of wine and hands it to me. “So how was your first week at Dream Homes?”