Big Witch Energy

by Kelly Jamieson

  Feeling helpless and a little hopeless, I’d stepped out onto my balcony to gaze up into the sky, as I have so many times when I need to feel grounded. The moon was there. It’s always there even though sometimes we can’t see it. Last night it was a tiny, shining sliver in the sky. Today is the new moon. A time for new beginnings. It seems to me that with the moon out of sight it could be a perfect time to do shadow work. To examine my darker selves. The selves I keep hidden.

  I hope I’m ready for this.

  24

  Romy

  Much as I want to give up on witchcraft, I owe it to Joe—Dad—and the family to at least do this. I know it’s a serious decision—there’s no going back. If I don’t take the exam within a year of learning about my powers, I can never do it. So.

  I gather what I need. I have a candle from the Charming Chalice, scented with amber and oud. It flickers on my coffee table, spreading its warm, sweet scent. I have a crystal—satin spar—that helps with mental clarity and strengthens the connection to intuition. I’ve gathered some materials to help me through this.

  My condo is completely silent. Morning sun streams through the window, illuminating all the pretty colors I’ve added to my space. My home. My sanctuary.

  The first thing I learn is how we suppress parts of ourselves to please people, to fit in. Like my mom. I learned to repress parts of myself to please her and do well in school. I had no idea at the time of course; I just wanted her approval and love.

  I relive memories from my childhood, and yes, in hindsight, they’re painful. And sad. I even feel anger and resentment toward my mom, although I love her too. I’m supposed to honor these feelings, because they are what lead me to knowing the emotional wounds hidden in my subconscious.

  The feeling of not being enough. Fear of not being able to please my mom. Or anyone. Fear of not fitting in or being loved. Fear of expressing emotions and being vulnerable.

  I watch the flame of the candle burning steadily as I let these feelings wash over me, then close my eyes. I want to cry, and as usual I try to stop that. Wait. That’s not honoring the feelings. So I let the tears flow. Pushing the emotions down only blocks the false beliefs and drives them deeper into my subconscious.

  Why is not being a good witch triggering me so much? Why is my failure to make Trace love me triggering me?

  It all becomes clear as I let my thoughts and emotions run loose. I’m supposed to write things down, so I do, this time opting for a pretty journal and a pen that Cassie gave me ages ago. I let the words flow, not in complete sentences, just words and phrases.

  These things hurt me so much because of my past. Because of trying to please my mom. I wanted to please the Candlers. I wanted them to love me. I wanted Trace to love me. I wanted to fit in with them and be part of something I’d never had before—a family.

  I write down some of my memories, of my mom telling me art classes were a waste of time, that my fascination with the moon was creepy, that there is no such thing as leprechauns. More tears run down my face as I write, my pen moving so fast the scribbles are almost illegible. But that doesn’t matter. I feel the act of putting it on paper is what matters.

  I can tell time has passed by the angle of the sun outside my window. I stretch out my cramped hand and read about what comes next. Now that I’ve discovered the root of my pain, I can heal it. I need to change my story.

  Okay.

  Instead of believing I’m not good enough to be a witch, maybe my story is that I’m still learning to be a witch. Instead of believing I’ll never fit in with the Candler family, my story can be… I don’t have to fit in to be part of the family, I can just… be. And instead of believing I’m not good enough for Trace, my story can be that he’s not ready for love in his life.

  That makes me pause. It makes sadness and regret slide through me again. But that’s okay. I can be sad, and I can choose how to react to the sadness.

  Trace not being ready right now doesn’t mean he never will be. I feel… no, I know he has feelings for me. I can’t stop thinking about what Dad said about Trace being in love with me.

  It would be… no. I can’t go there. Even if he does care, he clearly values his relationship with the Candlers more than a relationship with me.

  But still… maybe one day? Maybe in time he could love me the way I love him and be willing to be open about it? I know the family is important to him, but maybe I could convince him that he wouldn’t lose them if things didn’t work out. Maybe he needs to do his own shadow work and figure out what’s stopping him from loving. And being loved. And maybe there’s still hope for us. Because what we have together is special. It feels important. Inevitable. Enduring.

  I don’t know. Probably I’m foolish to even think these things. To allow a tiny seed of hope to plant inside me.

  I write down these thoughts, then drop the pen again. I’m so tired. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so utterly exhausted. I lean back into the couch and close my eyes.

  It’s not the powers you have that make you magical. It’s what you do with them that defines you.

  When I think about my childhood, I see what an impact my mother’s attempts to repress my witch instincts had on me. Have my subconscious issues stopped my spells from moving forward? Have I been denying my true self my whole life? And now feeling guilty about using my witch skills freely and joyfully, always aware in the back of my mind how disapproving my mother would be?

  Is this what’s been holding me back?

  When I go into work the next day, my entire body trembling with nerves at seeing Trace again, he’s not there. I don’t ask anyone where he is since I don’t need to know. I just need to do my job.

  Dad stops by my desk to check in. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

  “I’m doing pretty good.” I sound surprised at myself. “I did a lot of reflecting yesterday. It was hard. But I think it was helpful.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Can we talk again? About what I learned.”

  “Of course. Let me check with Cassie, but how about tomorrow? We’re going out for dinner tonight.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Cassie texts me later and invites me for pizza tomorrow night and asks if it’s okay if Felise and Magan are there. I do love the pizza Cassie conjures. I text her back. That’s fine, thank you.

  I try to focus on work the rest of the day and the next day, but I look up every time someone walks by, expecting to see Trace. He doesn’t come in Tuesday either, and I overhear Orva telling someone he’s working remotely.

  Avoiding me, more like it. Damn.

  I go home to change after work, shedding my skirt and blouse and replacing it with jeans and a snug-fitting black sweater. Since I don’t know how to teleport and don’t want to try it by myself lest I end up in Kalamazoo, I drive over to Dad and Cassie’s place. I scan the street for any sign of Trace’s truck in case they invited him too, but I don’t see it. Whew.

  After greetings, Cassie says, “Dinner first or talk first?”

  “Is it good news or bad news?” Felise asks. “If it’s bad news, let’s eat first, otherwise we won’t get to enjoy the pizza.”

  “It’s neither. I’m having some second thoughts, but I still haven’t decided what to do. I want to talk about it.”

  We’re all seated in the kitchen at the huge island.

  “Okay,” Dad says. “Go ahead.”

  “Well. Yesterday I did some shadow work.”

  They all nod.

  “At Dad’s er… suggestion.”

  He smiles, his eyes lighting up when I call him Dad.

  “I think I really learned a lot about what’s been holding me back in my witchcraft.” I tell them details about my mom I haven’t shared with them. “I’ve been too focused on trying hard, trying to please others, and not enough on the things I can do with my powers. The good things I can accomplish even if my powers aren’t supreme.”

  “We don’t know that,” Dad says. “You�
�re still learning, Romy.”

  “I know.” I acknowledge this with a scrunched-up face. “I do know that.”

  “So does that mean you will take your WED exam?” Magan asks.

  “I don’t know.” I twist my fingers together, looking around at them.

  “As far as your powers go…” Dad hesitates. “There’s something we haven’t talked about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Triad Energy.”

  The others all stare at him. “Oh my goddess,” Felise breathes. “Really, Dad?”

  I look back and forth among them. “What? What does that mean?”

  “There’s a special kind of energy that only three sisters can have,” Dad says. “Their collective power is the strongest kind of magic that exists.”

  “Whoa.” I slide my gaze over to Magan and Felise, who both look similarly gobsmacked.

  “I never thought of that,” Magan says.

  “I did think of it,” Dad adds. “But Romy needed time to develop her powers.”

  “I’m only your half-sister,” I remind Felise and Magan.

  “That might make a difference,” Dad admits. “We don’t know.”

  “How can we find out?” I turn wide eyes on him.

  “We can conjure Louboutin shoes!” Felise cries.

  Dad rolls his eyes. “No. I’ve been trying to think of a simple way to test it. You don’t have full command of your powers yet, Romy, until you have your WED, so it’s hard to know. We can’t change immortality or aging or resurrection… but Triad Energy can. But we can’t just reverse aging on someone to try it out.”

  Cassie raises her hand. “I volunteer.”

  We all laugh, but Dad tilts his head, studying her. “Wait, you might have something there. It’s a small sign of aging… but it’s aging. Your gray hair.”

  She pats her hair, frowning. “I don’t have gray hair.”

  Felise and Magan crack up. “Mom. Isn’t that why you go to the hairdresser every six weeks?”

  She makes a face.

  Dad moves closer and peers at her hair. “You’re just about due for a root touch-up.”

  “Gee, thanks for noticing.”

  “If the girls can change your hair and get rid of the gray, I think that will be a sign of their Triad Energy.”

  “Hmmm.” Cassie taps her bottom lip. “Okay! I’m fine with never having gray hair!”

  I meet Felise’s eyes, then Magan’s. They actually look nervous.

  “Okay,” Felise says. “Any advice for us, Mom? Dad?”

  “You have to do this on your own.” Dad crosses his arms.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’ll probably turn her hair purple.”

  “We can do this. Come on.” Magan waves a hand, and the three of us head into the living room to figure out a plan.

  “This seems simple enough.” Felise nibbles her bottom lip. “Unless I’m missing something.”

  “Of course it’s simple. Because it’s impossible,” Magan says.

  “Why is it so hard?” I ask. “I assume lots of witches color their hair by twirling a finger.”

  “Nope. It’s a part of aging that we can’t change.”

  “Okay.” I reach out and they each take one of my hands. I reel off a spell that comes to mind, and they gaze at me.

  “Wow. Okay.” Magan grimaces. “Let’s do this.”

  “I think we all need to put our hands on her hair,” Felise says.

  “Agree.”

  We return to the kitchen. Cassie’s still sitting on a stool, and we surround her. From above her, I can see the scant half inch of regrowth of her hair—a duller brown with definite gray in it. We all stroke her silky hair and recite our spell together.

  “Her hair will grow like copper in sun,

  Silver strands there will be none.

  This is our will. So mote it be.”

  * * *

  Before our eyes, her hair changes, becoming all gleaming auburn.

  We stare, then gape at each other.

  “Did it work?” Cassie lifts a hand to her hair. “This could save a lot of money.”

  I start laughing. Such a frivolous, mundane thing, and yet… “It worked!”

  “Holy shit,” Dad says, peering over our shoulders. “It did!”

  A feeling of pride suffuses me, swelling in my chest. I did something good!

  “This is… astonishing,” Dad says, lowering himself to a stool. “You girls… we’re going to need to have a serious talk about this.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad, we won’t go wild.” Felise grins. “Wow!”

  Even Magan is beaming.

  “I didn’t know if this would happen,” Dad says. “Three sisters have to bond at a high level to have that kind of power.” He studies us, his eyes bright. Cassie grips his hand and squeezes, and they share a look.

  “Now I have a really tough question for you.” He turns back to us.

  “Shoot.” Felise plants her butt on a stool and props her chin in her hand.

  “If you had the ability to help Trace go back in time and relive the day of the accident that killed his family so they could be alive… would you do it?”

  My hand flies to my chest, and I can’t stop the gasp that escapes my lips. My heart bumps and then lurches into a rapid cadence.

  Cassie lets out a low sound that sounds like anguish, her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.

  “I think you could do it with your Triad Energy,” Dad continues. “You know Trace has tried ever since to resurrect his parents. He’s lived with the guilt of that accident for so many years. I didn’t quite realize the impact it’s had on him.”

  My eyes burst wide. “He’s tried to resurrect them?”

  “Yes. He’s researched and tried everything he can think of—complicated spells, potions, elixirs. Necromancy. But resurrection is exceedingly difficult. He went to the Board of Elders more than once for a special dispensation, and they refused him.”

  “Oh my god.”

  Cassie eyes me strangely. “Are you okay, Romy?”

  I nod, not willing to open my mouth.

  “He tried so many times that they got exasperated with him.”

  And I added to that. Damn. My heart squeezes.

  “And he was frustrated too,” Dad adds. “It turned him off magic. Made him withdraw from the coven. Until you came along.”

  Oh Lord. I press my hands to my mouth.

  “Do you really think we could do that?” Magan asks, apparently not realizing how distraught I am.

  I knew Trace feels responsible for what happened. He’s been carrying that weight around with him ever since. He’s also been trying to reverse that ever since… and failing.

  “I believe so. There would be consequences to doing it,” Dad says. “Trace would go back in time, meaning he’d live that part of his life over again. Everything would happen differently for him. He’d have his family, but there are no guarantees that he’d have the same experiences, which means he would be a different person.”

  There would be no guarantee that I would meet him or know him. Or love him.

  Anguish squeezes my heart and lungs, wringing the breath out of me. I feel light-headed and sick. I could give Trace what he’s always wanted—his real family back. But I’d sacrifice my own love for him in doing that.

  The faint flame of hope I had that maybe this isn’t the right time for us, that maybe Trace would come to realize he does deserve love, that he would recognize what we have… flickers and fades.

  But I can give him this. What he’s always wanted. I can take away that burden of guilt and grief. I can make him happy.

  “Ohhh,” Magan says, lips drooping. “He wouldn’t be in our lives anymore?”

  “No.”

  “But he’d be happy,” Felise says slowly.

  “There are no guarantees of happiness,” Dad says. “In any life. He’d have his family though.”

  I nod. I don’t think I can speak. I feel like I’m freezing from t
he inside out, shivering. I glance at Cassie. Tears are streaming down her face, her eyebrows pulled down in misery at this terrible choice.

  “If it’s what he wants… I’ll do it,” I finally manage to say.

  Dad’s forehead furrows, his lips tightening into a thin line. “I know that’s asking a lot, Romy.”

  Cassie lets out a small sob. She sends Dad a tormented look.

  “It’s for him,” I say simply.

  “You’ll have to keep studying,” Dad reminds me. “You need to pass your exam to control your full powers.”

  I lift my chin and swallow. “I know.”

  This makes my decision for me. I have to do this. For Trace.

  “I’ll do it too,” Magan says quietly.

  “And me,” Felise says, then sighs. “But I’ll miss him.”

  “Yeah.” Magan tips her head back.

  I manage to choke out the words, “I’ll miss him too.”

  25

  Trace

  “Say what now?”

  I stare at Joe. We’re sitting in a dumpy bar not far from the office after work. I was hustling all day at work, and I’ve barely had a chance to take a breath, and now this.

  “I believe we can send you back in time.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Okay, not me.” He hesitates. “Felise, Magan, and Romy. You were right. I believe they have Triad Energy.”

  All the air leaves my body. “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wait, wait. I thought Romy was giving up her powers.”

  Joe shakes his head. “She changed her mind.”

  Ahhhh. A big breath whooshes out of me, and I sag back in my chair. Thank the Mother Earth for that.

  Joe tells me about the trial they did and how Cassie will never have to have her hair colored again.

  “I asked them if they would do it, and they all said yes.” He watches my face as he talks.

  Romy would send me back in time. I feel like there’s a band tightening around my chest. “I sense a big but coming.”