by J L Collins
She was just about to open her mouth and retort with what I’m sure was a massively snarky remark, when a loud knock startled both of us. I glanced over at the front door where I could just barely make out a patch of dark curly hair through the window.
"Better hurry up and answer it, Mom. We all know you don't want to keep your boyfriend waiting . . ."
I scowled at her from over my shoulder. "He's not my boyfriend," I hissed, though I couldn't help but smooth down the frizzy flyaway hair in my face before I pulled open the door.
"Sully! Hi!"
My neighbor Sully Pritchett—and the not so secret object of my affection— grinned at me behind the screen door, giving me a little wave. "Hey Gwen. I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to go ahead and drop off your lawn mower before I head off to work. Thank you again, by the way. I still can't believe mine went kaput on me yesterday."
I blinked, nearly forgetting that I had loaned Sully my lawn mower the day before. "Oh, right. Yes of course, it's no problem. You're already finished with it?"
He nodded, his soft dark curls swaying around the crown of his head. How in the world did he get gifted such a gorgeous head of hair?
"Man, I have to admit it's still sort of funny seeing you like . . . that," Sully said, gesturing to my own hair.
Speaking of hair… I glanced down at my wavy tufts of lilac hair that—for the past fourteen years at least—had been a boring brown color. While it had been nice not to have to keep up with dyeing my more conspicuous natural hair color to brown over the summer, it sure caused some turned heads. Especially those of whom I knew personally. Nervous laughter bubbled up and spilled out of me, unwillingly. "Oh, yeah. I know. I swear it's not a midlife crisis or anything."
"Of course not. You’re way too young for one of those."
I bit my lip to steel myself against the desire to turn into a puddle of goo. But there was no denying the blush that crept up into my cheeks. "Thanks. I don't suppose you want to come inside and have lunch with us, do you? I just picked up a couple bowls of salad for me and —"
"I wish I could, but I have to head in to work. Another graveyard shift, I'm afraid.” Well, at least he looked sincere about missing out on lunch.
I felt something swish across the backs of my legs. "Three lunch invitations this week . . . My, my, my," Oisín purred as he plopped down next to my feet.
To my horror, Sully glanced down, both his dark eyebrows raised in concern. "Did your cat just . . .?”
But Fi was already on it. She scooped up Oisín in an instant, giggling nervously next to me at the door. "Sorry, sometimes I like to pretend that I can make little Oisín here, talk. See?"
She held Oisín up in a rather unflattering manner, heaving him up underneath his front legs, the rest of his great, furry black body hanging precariously as he yowled.
"Put me down this instant, or I’ll scratch lover boy's eyes out here," Oisín hissed, as me and Fiona-Leigh we hesitated then laughing much louder than the situation warranted.
Sully looked between the three of us, shaking his head. "Okay then . . . well, thanks again Gwen. I appreciate you letting me borrow your lawn mower. Maybe I'll be able to catch lunch with you another day this week?"
There went that darn blushing again. “Sure thing. I’ll uh, let you know what day works best for me?”
He nodded, flashing that sexy grin at me again.
After saying bye, I slowly closed the door and slid halfway down it, letting out a breath I hadn’t even noticed I was holding. I gave Oisín a dirty look. "Are you playing crazy or are you actually insane? I didn't realize that permanently becoming a cat would make you certified. You can't just do that, Osh! Not to mention all the laws it breaks. I can only imagine what Uncle Gardner would think.”
He rolled his eyes at me, squirming out of Fiona-Leigh's hands and landing almost silently back down the floor. "Sorry, sometimes I forget who I'm supposed to play the lovable and adorable household pet for. Forgive me."
I sighed, knowing there was really nothing to be done about it. We were lucky. At least this time…
If avoiding the fiasco led to anything positive however, at least Fiona-Leigh was speaking to me again.
She pulled up a seat at the kitchen table, digging into her salad. "Thanks Mom," she mumbled through a mouthful of food.
I didn’t like caving in to the easiness of ignoring our earlier fight, but my stomach growled as I picked up my bowl of salad doused in my favorite French dressing, and there was no denying it would be simpler to eat in peace. Taking a seat, I started in on my own bowl and idly wondered what the weather would be like during the week ahead.
“Um, Mom?”
Lost in my own thoughts, it was a wonder I didn’t notice the miniscule drops of water dripping over the expanse of the table between us. Confused, I looked up and gasped.
There underneath the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, was a gray rain cloud approximately the size of a loaf of bread, moving ever so slowly from one end of the table to the other. An actual, real rain cloud complete with tiny drops of rain that were starting to come down in sheets the closer it got toward the middle of the table.
“Mom! Aren’t you going to do something?”
“Oh!” I fumbled for my wand in my back pocket, shaking the errant thoughts in my brain away as I mumbled a quick finishing spell.
“Magic starts and circles then—magic stops and fully ends.”
The gray cloud faded into nothingness, leaving behind only a rather soaked tabletop. Fiona-Leigh and I exchanged a look.
“That was weird. How did you do that? I thought magic wasn’t really possible here, outside of the Other Realm?”
I ignored the ache in her voice. “It’s not. Or at least, it wasn’t.” I caught the confused look on her face and sighed, adding, “I’ve heard they’re changing a few things regarding the laws.”
“But what does that have to do with us here?” She leaned forward, her dark blue eyes hopeful.
“Honestly, I’m not too sure. But I have a feeling that magic leaking into the Human Realm is a much-unwanted side effect to whatever they’re doing over there in Spell Haven. Looks like I’m going to have to pay a visit to Uncle Gardner.”
2
Time for a Break
Rain pelted the windshield as the wipers squeaked across, clearing the way for another dreary day.
"I'm so over this weather," I muttered to myself. Whether the rain clouds from yesterday were a premonition or what, I still wasn't sure.
"I'm just saying . . . We could probably appeal to the Fae to change the weather in Spell Haven if—"
It took everything in me not to slam on my brakes. "We’re not doing this again, young lady. I refuse."
"But think of all the things that I could learn there! Think of all the things I could learn there and nowhere else, Mom. And maybe we can come up with a plan where I could just go to school there and then come—"
"Fiona-Leigh Brady. This is your final warning, and I swear I will not give you another one. Drop this right now. You're not going to school in Spell Haven. You are not going to be moving to Spell Haven. You're not going to be stepping one pretty little foot of yours in Spell Haven unless I say so. Got it? Are we clear?"
She slumped lower in her seat, staring willfully out the window. She could pout all she wanted to, that was fine by me.
As we pulled up to the front of her school, she didn't even bother with a goodbye before pushing the door open violently, slamming it shut right behind her as she stormed up the steps to Gideon High School. I rolled my eyes.
The weather didn’t clear up any before I made it into the dreary Union Gazette building, but once I settled into my cozy desk in my definitely-too-small office, I took a deep breath and tried to remind myself that my daughter's angsty phase was just that — a phase. Hopefully. Maybe. If I was lucky…
My calendar was full of meetings, emails that needed replies, not to mention actual photography stints throughout the count
y. I sighed as I wrote down yet another appointment that our editor in chief, Henry, had just phoned in for the photography department that basically consisted of myself with guest appearances from our mail room intern, Kirby. He was about as close to a professional photographer as you could get, but he only worked part-time.
September 16th… September 16th. Why was that date sticking out to me?
Oh, that's right! I had almost forgotten that my ten-year anniversary at the Union Gazette was approaching quickly. Not to mention the hefty three-week vacation package I'd start receiving along with it. Thanks to the help of Henry, I was already booked for a three-week vacation I had to use up by the end of the year, starting next week, actually. I leaned back in my chair, unable to stop myself from grinning. Huh. At least there was an upside to this rather yucky day, after all.
The morning quickly flew by and before I knew it, it was time for my lunch break. I yawned, heading into the brightly-lit staff room. The smell of burnt popcorn wasn’t doing anyone any favors. I glanced at the sign on the crooked bulletin board. ‘THE MICROWAVE IS NOT FOR MAKING POPCORN,’ signed by Henry himself, was apparently not enough of a warning to others.
"Going out to eat today, Gwen?" Henry asked me, startling the heck out of me as he yanked his lunch box out of the refrigerator.
I shook my head. "Nah, not today. I brought my lunch . . . I mean, if you want to call it that."
I was settling for leftovers from last night's rather bland chili. It looked just about as appetizing sitting there in the now-stained plastic Tupperware container, as it had the night before. Who was I to snub my nose at burnt popcorn when I could barely throw some chili together in a pot and call it edible?
He peered over his shoulder at my so-called meal, sniffing the air with a wince. "Hm. Well, bon appetit, I guess. Sherry rustled me up some tasty hash brown casserole this morning! I gotta admit, it's nice having my old woman at home in the morning to cook for me again. Back when she was working at the school, I never had the chance. It was either cereal or toast, and let me tell ya, I'm not exactly charmed in the cooking department, " he chuckled, yanking open the microwave before shoving his container of food inside. “Wait a minute.” He slammed the microwave shut and glared around the room at the two other people sitting there. Both Harry from Accounting, and our receptionist, Sarah, were quickly shoving food into their own bags before high-tailing it out of the room. Suspiciously enough, a few popcorn kernels fell from Harry’s lap but he fled the scene of the crime so fast that Henry barely had a chance to gripe at him about it.
He mumbled something about incompetence in the workplace under his breath.
The scent of warm hash brown casserole filled the staff room, and even as other people filed in to grab their own food, they couldn't help but comment on how delicious it smelled. I frowned as I looked down at my own food, wishing there was a way for me to somehow trade with Henry. Where could I get someone to cook me breakfast in the mornings?
"Ahem," someone cleared their throat behind me, standing a little too close for comfort. Was everyone trying to scare the bejeezus out of me today?
I turned around, hoping the smell of my bland chili wasn't too off-putting, before my eyes widened. "Aunt Bedelia? What are you — what are you doing here?" I whispered, quickly swallowing my food until it was a solid barely-chewed lump in my esophagus. Ouch.
"Always the tone of surprise with you, Gwennie-Bee," she giggled, pulling me in for a tight squeeze. Tall and willowy, she towered over me in her brightly-colored dress and scarf. She pushed her sunglasses up past her forehead, revealing finely-lined twinkling dark blue eyes—the Brady gene hard at work. "Why is it you never seem happy to see me?"
Maybe because every time I saw my aunt when she just so happened to pop in for a visit, she brought bad news? Last time she had unceremoniously revealed not only herself but the entirety of the magical world to my daughter at the beginning of summer. Not to mention she was coming to tell me about my younger brother, Tristan, who had been missing.
And since my Aunt Bee was such a talented mind-reader, she gave me a half frown, patting my shoulder consolingly. "Oh no, no, no. Nothing like that, dear. I only wanted to see when you were coming to visit, that's all. Though now that you mention it, your brother is going a little stir-crazy inside the manor house."
I hadn’t mentioned it actually.
I glanced around the room, making sure no one was really paying attention to our conversation or why this random oddly dressed woman was suddenly in our midst. "Uncle Gardner still has him on house arrest, huh?"
She nodded. "And as you can imagine, Tristan is none too pleased. He only brought it on himself though," she sniffed. Anyone who knew my aunt knew of her huge soft spot when it came to my brother. If she hadn't been trying to find a way around his sentence of house arrest for the time being—trying to find some kind of loophole to get him out of there—I would’ve been surprised.
"Okay . . . so you're wanting to know when I'm coming to visit, then?"
It was true that I couldn't exactly get phone calls from Aunt Bedelia's place, though it seemed an oddly formal request given that she had actually shown up to request it.
Aunt Bedelia simply smiled. "Yes, of course we want you and Fiona-Leigh to come visit us. We happen to know that you had some time away from work coming up soon and—"
I smacked my forehead. "And I don't suppose this came from Uncle Gardner’s special resources, did it?"
My Uncle Gardner was the head of the MARC, or Magical Acts & Regulation Control, where I’d thought I would one day work for the rest of my life as a skilled Shadow Hand — the most elite equivalent of magical law enforcement. He had spies all over the darn place, it seemed.
"Something like that. And I thought that maybe Fiona-Leigh would enjoy some time with us. I know she's probably been chomping at the bit to come back. She was very adamant about not going back home last time we spoke."
I could only imagine just how gleeful my whole family would be if they knew how much of an issue I'd been having with Fiona-Leigh and wanting her to stay put in Midnight Pitch with me. Seeing where this conversation was headed, I tugged at Aunt Bedelia’s hand so that she would follow me back out into the hallway.
"I'm sure she would be happy to come, but she has school to think about now."
There was an obvious droop in the excitement on my aunt’s face over the word ‘school.’ "Oh? She started back so soon?"
I let out a humorless laugh. Leave it to Bedelia Brady to pout about school. The woman had dropped out as early as possible to go ‘live her life as the free spirit she was,’ when she was not much older than Fi. I treasured my aunt dearly, but she wasn’t exactly the poster child for the Stay in School movement. "Yes, Aunt Bee. She’s still a child, you know."
And of course, she waved me off as if I were the one being silly. "I know that, Gwennie! I only thought that maybe I could indulge her in a bit more of downtime at home, but if she's already gone back to school . . . I don't suppose you’ve thought about maybe transferring —"
I held up my hand immediately. "Let me stop you right there. Aunt Bedelia I love you, but please, for the love of Merlin, do not start this argument with me. I'm over it, I really am. We live here now, not in –" I dropped my voice to a low whisper, "Spell Haven."
I didn't know whose face had worn the bigger pout—my daughter’s or my aunt’s. Looking at Aunt Bee and the way she seemed so hopeful stung something deep inside of me. I didn’t need to be a powerful Siren mind-reader like her to know what she was thinking about. All those years she missed from both me and Fiona-Leigh’s lives were floating to the surface as if reflected on a dark pool of water. Her eyes reminded me so much of both my father’s and Fiona-Leigh’s.
"Well, what if she just comes for a few days? Does she go to school during the entire week, every single day? That seems oddly repugnant for human children to deal with. I hear their patience is even worse than Witchlings."
I rolled my eyes.
"No, of course not. She has the weekends off. Saturdays and Sundays. But even then, that's not very much time to take off and go to Spell Haven."
“I see.”
It was too difficult to meet her eyes at first because I didn’t want to get suckered into anything, but when I did, the expression on her face reminded me of something else. Of the moment when I’d told her I was thinking of leaving Spell Haven in the first place all those years ago…
And just like that, I was done for. "Okay, fine. We'll stay for a few days. A few days, all right? No more than that. And I can't just have you randomly popping up in my office anymore either, Aunt Bee."
Her somber tone turned cheerful immediately. "Yes, yes, I hear you. Wonderful news though, darling, I'm so glad that you’ve changed your mind! And when shall we be expecting you at the manor?"
I squinted, trying to recall the dates of my vacation time. "I'll have to get back to you on that. But not this weekend," I said closing my eyes as she started to speak. "After the sass your grandniece put me through the past couple of days, I'm thinking she deserves a little bit of a timeout. But then . . . we'll see. I'll let you know."
She leaned in for another tight squeeze and gave me a kiss on my cheek before letting out a quiet squeal. "Oh, I'm so anxious to have you back! I hate being so far away from you now that we have you again in our lives."
It seemed like a simple enough thing to say, but it really dug in deep as she slid her sunglasses back down over her beakish nose with a smile and turned on her heel to leave.
There was just no getting around it. It looked like I was never going to be able to make up for the lost years with my family. Not with them, and not with Fiona-Leigh. And just as bad? I was still a sucker, regardless.
3
Warts and Whatnot
Several head shots and one ribbon-cutting ceremony at the brand-new coffee shop in town later… I was wrapping up the last of my edited photos at work before sending them off to G for final approval. The Union Gazette building would barely be a blip on my radar for the next three weeks.