A Witchly Influence

by Stephanie Grey

  “Why is she so fixated on you?” I asked. We were seated outside on my patio, the soft sounds of Finn and one of his new students drifting through the door.

  “I have no idea.” Abby sipped her lemonade thoughtfully. “Some people don’t always get along and I understand that, but I don’t know what I did to set her off in the first place.”

  “Maybe she’s jealous.”

  Abby snickered. “Jealous? I’m single with no prospects and she has a boyfriend.”

  “You’re also a successful teacher who doesn’t rely on anyone to take care of her. You bought a house that’s all yours and it’s beautiful. So what if you’re single? The right guy will come along.”

  “I wonder how it would have worked out if Eric hadn’t just been looking for some sort of booty call.”

  “Thankfully, you’ll never know.”

  “He’s dating a fifth-grade teacher now. Actually dating, not just flirting.”

  “Why do you care?”

  Abby’s brows raised and her voice came out squeaky. “I don’t.”

  “It’s okay. People don’t tend to like seeing others they dislike be happy.”

  She laughed and ran her hand over the side French braid she had woven to keep her bangs off her face. “Maybe that’s Lauren’s problem. I’m doing well at the school, the kids like me, I have my own home, and it’s clear that I don’t need a man.”

  The back door opened and Finn stepped outside to join us. “Are you bashing men?” He raised his voice a few octaves and put his hand on his hip. “I’m a strong woman. I don’t need a man to make me happy because I make myself happy!”

  “That’s exactly how all of us are,” I said, chuckling.

  “Where are the rest of the women? Don’t you all have meetings for this kind of topic?” Finn asked, looking around excitedly as if more women were suddenly going to appear.

  “Abby and I are the co-chairmen of the man-hating group. We meet once a month to discuss the next meeting’s bullet points.”

  “It’s a short meeting,” Abby chimed in. “The topic is usually ‘Why We Don’t Need a Man’ and then we just go out drinking.”

  “Is that a hard lemonade?”

  Abby picked up her glass and took a long drink. “It might be,” she said slyly.

  “Is it really hard lemonade? I could go for some,” Finn asked.

  “No, it’s not,” I answered.

  “You’re such a let-down,” Finn said to Abby, shaking his head. He ran inside and poured himself a glass. He smacked his lips in satisfaction when he returned. “This is pretty good, Carmen.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be sure to add some vodka to it next time.”

  “That sounded like a new student you have, Finn. Was he?” Abby asked.

  Finn propped his feet up on the patio table. “He is, but he has potential.”

  “You have a lot of students so far. You must be a great teacher.”

  He reddened so slightly that I barely noticed it. “I’m just filling a void that Roach left.”

  “Initially, yes, but it’s been a few months now. People don’t stay just because there’s someone to do the job. They stay because that someone is good at that job.”

  “You should hear some of the people he’s been working with since July. They’re catching on as quickly as he did.” I smiled proudly at my stepbrother.

  “Don’t you work with Joel Sula?”

  “Yeah, he’s one of mine.”

  “He signed up to join the jazz band at school.”

  “Your school has a jazz band?” I asked.

  “It’s one of the after-school programs. He said he’s only been playing for a couple of months, but I found that hard to believe. Knowing that he’s your student, I can see that now.”

  Finn tugged at the brim of his hat. “He’s just talented.”

  “I didn’t even know there was a guitar in jazz music,” I admitted.

  Abby nodded as Finn groaned. “You need to brush up on your music,” Finn said. “That statement was almost embarrassing.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “You didn’t know that hippopotamus milk is pink.”

  Finn held out his arms. “Who would know that?” he asked, exasperated.

  “That is kind of an odd thing to know,” Abby agreed.

  “I know, right?” Finn said.

  “I might have a thing for hippopotami. They’re interesting creatures.”

  “They eat people.” Finn looked at Abby curiously. “They do!” she insisted.

  “Only if you’re dumb enough to get into a river with them and it doesn’t happen that often.”

  “Is this what women talk about? Random things? Carmen, you might need to spike my drink now if we’re going to keep talking about this stuff.”

  I laughed. “Actually, we were talking about a woman that Abby works with at the school.”

  “Is she hot?” Finn grinned. “Sorry, reflexive question.”

  “She’s not a very nice person.”

  “She’s a bitch to Abby,” I added.

  “Why don’t you just put her in her place?”

  “How would I do that?” Abby put her elbows on the wicker table and leaned forward.

  “Kick her ass,” Finn answered simply.

  Abby laughed so hard that she snorted. “A grown woman assaulting another woman? That’s not how problems should be handled.”

  “I told her she needed to complain to the principal.”

  It was Finn’s turn to laugh. “Have someone else fight her battles for her? No way. Listen, Abby, if I were you, I’d have a talk with this broad.”

  “Broad?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

  “Yeah, she’s a broad,” Finn said quickly. “I’d have a talk with her and tell her she’s being an asshole and that she needs to stop. Otherwise, you’ll file a complaint against her.”

  I looked away quickly, thinking of Marcy. She had sent a very nasty letter after I had turned in my complaint against her. I had politely told her to shove the letter down her throat, assuring her that the paper didn’t have that many calories.

  “She could start her own business like she’s been wanting to.”

  “There you go. Why don’t you do that?”

  “It’s a long story,” Abby grumbled. She wrapped her hands around her glass and frowned.

  “What is it?” Finn pressed.

  “It’s a money issue.” She laughed nervously. “Oh. I guess it isn’t that long of a story after all.”

  “Play the lottery.”

  “I was going to do that, but decided it was kind of absurd. I don’t want to bet my hopes and dreams on a lottery ticket.”

  “What’s it going to hurt?”

  “I would be poorer than I was before I even started because I wasted money on a lottery ticket.”

  “I’d go for it,” Finn encouraged. “I was a little lost at one point. I wanted to do something else with my life, but wasn’t sure what it was. I like construction, I like building things, but that wasn’t enough. I mean, I still work in construction, but since I started up with the guitar, I feel so much more…” Finn stopped, struggling to find the right word.

  “Fulfilled?” Abby finished.

  “That’s right. Fulfilled.”

  “It doesn’t cost you anything, though. You’re actually making money on the side,” Abby pointed out.

  “It cost money up front. I had to buy a guitar and amp, then the lessons.”

  “Hey!” I said.

  “Okay, Evelyn and Carmen paid for those things as a Christmas gift, but the fact is that an investment still had to be made.”

  “Just a little credit. That’s all I ask,” I said, shaking my head.

  Finn put his hand up to the side of his mouth, blocking it from my view. “She’s so needy,” he said in a stage whisper.

  “I am not.”

  “And she’s nosy. Look at her. She’s eavesdropping on our conversation.”

  Abby and I laughed. She pulled a piece of
paper out of her pocket that I recognized as the fortune she had kept. “I’ve been wanting to play these numbers,” she conceded.

  “Then play them. You should at least try. If you don’t win, then you’re going to need to tell that broad to piss off. If you do win, then tell that broad to piss off and start something that you’ll love.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Abby said.

  “That’s because it is,” Finn replied simply.

  “You’re willing to make a deal with me?” Marcy asked, incredulous.

  “That’s right, and you’re going to take it.”

  “Why in the hell would I do that? I don’t like you,” Marcy deadpanned.

  “I don’t like you either, but I have a good reason. You left me in the past and forgot about me. You don’t like me because I filed a complaint against you and that ruined your perfect record.”

  Marcy shifted her weight, then scowled. “Could you have chosen a worse place to meet than this damn field?”

  “This is a meadow.”

  “It’s the same thing and there are mud puddles everywhere. Do you know how hard it is to find this style of shoes?”

  “You don’t buy those. You create them.”

  “Same difference. I take the time to accrue them.”

  “No one can see this place and I wanted to meet with you privately.”

  “Get on with it, then.” Her cell phone beeped. “I think my husband is going to that diner with the patty melt.”

  “Diet still not working, huh?”

  “No.”

  “If you let him cheat on it once a week, the diet might be easier to follow,” I offered.

  Marcy’s lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. Her forehead relaxing, she said, “You know, that might actually work.”

  “I want you to go to the future and make sure the lottery numbers are these.” I handed her a copy of the fortune Abby had kept.

  “Did you think that offering me marital advice was enough for me to do this for you?” she asked, incredulous.

  “No, that one was for free. I’ll remove the complaint I made against you.” I knew she’d be interested in reinstating her spotless record and reputation.

  She tapped her chin with her finger, thinking. “Will you explain that it’s because I’m the best time traveler and you actually enjoyed your jaunt in the past?”

  “Too far, Marcy,” I warned.

  She flashed an insincere smile. “I’m just kidding. Fine, I’ll do it. Wait, it’s not for you, is it?” She looked at me, her gaze accusatory.

  “Of course it’s not for me,” I replied, insulted.

  “I had to check. Ethics and all that.”

  “I’m sure your ethics are on the straight and narrow.” I was disingenuous but she beamed anyway.

  “They really are!” She reached out to shake my hand. “We’re good after this, aren’t we?”

  “I still don’t like you.”

  “I don’t like you either, but we can at least be professional about it.” In a flash, she was gone.

  I transported myself back to my office. Sparkling black smoke was still in the air. “Egbert?” I whispered.

  “It is I,” he announced, bowing deeply.

  “Where have you been? It’s been months!”

  “When you call on my services, Madame, I ask for more than a signature. I can be very persuasive.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  The pencil leaned casually against the side of my computer monitor. “I’m good at reasoning with people.”

  “I thought that the petition spoke for itself.”

  He scoffed. “It needed flourishing.”

  “Flourishing?”

  “Did you not read the dictionary like I suggested?”

  “I know what that means, Egbert. Why did my petition need flourishing?”

  He absently stroked his mustache before he spoke. “Not everyone quite understood why you wanted to pass a new ordinance. I, being very eloquent, was able to explain it to them.”

  “How many signatures?”

  “Over one million.”

  I was so shocked that I nearly fell back in my chair.

  Egbert grinned. “I know. I told you I was persuasive.”

  Petition in hand, I marched through the double doors leading to the vast chambers where the Council met each month. The ceilings were at least twenty feet high and painted a bright gold with a hint of cyan. A winding staircase rotated next to the bench where councilmen and councilwomen sat ten feet higher than everyone else. As a bailiff walked by, the staircase spun so quickly that it became a blur and those closest to it could feel the wind it generated. The rest of the room was a soft beige with matching brown-and-cyan-striped chairs.

  As a councilman entered, the staircase stopped spinning, allowing him to climb to the bench. He took a seat at the end and tugged at the shoulders of his zebra-printed gown. It had been argued that traditional robes of the Council were merely black and white, but they still reminded everyone of a zebra and they had added a budget line for next year to redesign and produce new robes.

  The chamber was crowded today. I took a seat next to a leprechaun and he nodded toward me, though I couldn’t help but notice he tightened his grip on his pot of gold. I glanced down at my navy blue suit and black heels. I ran my fingers over my silver necklace that held a small charm in the shape of a guitar that Finn had bought for me as a thank you gift. Shrugging, I crossed one leg over the other and waited for my turn.

  “Gilligan Nguyen.”

  The leprechaun jumped out of his seat and practically ran to the podium with his gold. He placed a gold piece on the ground and a stepstool appeared, allowing him to step onto it to reach the microphone.

  “You’re Gilligan Nguyen?” asked one of the council members, a hint of surprise in his voice.

  Gilligan sneered. “Am I supposed to be named Seamus O’Brien and have red hair?” He shook his head. “Honestly, what year is it?”

  The councilman cleared his throat. “I was just, uh, clarifying for the record.”

  “I bet you were,” the leprechaun said in a stage whisper. A few chuckles rose from the crowd. “I bet you want me to do a little jig for you right now and know where I keep my rainbow! It’s the only way anyone who isn’t a leprechaun can touch my gold! I’ll never tell you!”

  “Mr. Nguyen!” the councilman bellowed. “You’re trying my patience. What is it that you wanted to be accomplished today?”

  “I want permission to move my rainbow.”

  “To where?”

  “I can’t tell you where! It’s a secret!”

  “Then why do you want to move it?” The councilman was exasperated.

  “Because I think someone knows where it is now. Duh!”

  “Do you want to spend the night in our jail? It’s no picnic like the mortal jail, I can assure you.”

  The leprechaun shook his tiny fists at the councilman. “You’re not making this easy for me, sir.” He practically spat out the word. “I tried to talk to you in private because this is a private discussion. But no, you refused.”

  “You should have submitted a request with my secretary.”

  “I did that.”

  The councilman put his head in his hands as he struggled to maintain his temper. “Meet me in my office in four hours and we can discuss this.”

  “Will you sign a nondisclosure agreement so that no one knows where my rainbow is?” The leprechaun was suspicious.

  “Yes, I will. Just, please, are we done with you now?”

  “We’ll determine that in four hours!” He jumped off his stepstool and smooshed it down with his hand so that it resembled a gold coin again.

  “Who do we have next?”

  “The Council calls Carmen Devereaux.”

  The leprechaun purposefully bumped into my knee on his way out of the chambers. He laughed gleefully as he scurried out the door and I limped slightly as I walked to the podium. Some leprechauns could be jerks. I
reached into my suit pocket and pulled at the petition. I blew on it and several copies floated across the room and landed in front of each council member.

  “My name is Councilwoman Dolores. I see that you want to extend the knowledge of our existence to individuals beyond spouses.”

  “That’s right, Councilwoman Dolores.”

  “Why?”

  My eyes flickered to my pocket where my notes were kept. I had practiced my speech several times in front of my mirror, slightly relieved that this mirror didn’t respond and yet a little disappointed because the feedback would have been appreciated. “There are mortals in this world who recognize magic. When that happens, an Eraser shifts the person’s memory to recall a more plausible, mortal explanation for events that were witnessed. What most of our kind do not understand is the complete confusion the mortals are left in because of this process. I have seen first-hand a mortal becoming hazy, unsure of himself, and angry that he feels like he cannot trust his own mind. I have also seen a mortal lashing out toward myself because he felt like reality was off and, while he would never harm me, he was clearly upset with not knowing—no, not understanding—the truth. This isn’t fair for our kind to do this to mortals. It was this exact kind of treatment that drew enough suspicion that led to the Salem Witch Trials.

  “I’m not asking that we enable all mortals to know about witches and wizards. I’m asking us to allow others, even beyond family members, to know about us after a careful vetting process. This is done for anyone working at a mortal job and it has been successful. I believe this same process will be successful for us. There will be no more lying to those that we love and trying to cover up our magic. We won’t have to hide ourselves anymore to people that we trust.”

  “How do you propose we stop these mortals from telling other mortals who haven’t been vetted about us?” the councilwoman asked.

  “Add a charm to the tattoo,” I answered easily. “It would disable them from even bringing up the topic to mortals who don’t already know.”

  The council members whispered eagerly to each other. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and glimpsed at the crowd behind me. I spotted Simon sitting where I had been and he gave me two thumbs up in encouragement.