New Witch on the Block

by Louisa West

  “Yes, it’s getting late,” Rosie agreed. She wasn't sure how to feel about the story at all as she glanced at the rickety old clock on the kitchen wall. “It’s time for bed, Maggie.”

  “Awww,” Maggie pouted. The desire to stay up and entertain their cool new houseguest had a bigger draw than Rosie had imagined. “Do I have to?”

  “Yep,” Rosie replied without blinking. “How do you think Declan would feel if you were too tired to help clean the fireplace tomorrow?”

  “Probably mad,” Maggie conceded.

  “We wouldn’t want that to happen, now would we?” Declan chimed in, starting to clear the dishes.

  “Mom, can Declan tuck me in tonight?”

  Rosie glanced at Declan, who was trying not to seem so pleased about being chosen for the honor.

  “I suppose, on one condition.”

  “What condition?” she asked, helping to pile the dishes by the sink, ready for washing.

  Rosie thought about the night the other night when had done the hearth magic, and how he’d said Maggie had fallen into a deep sleep immediately. She didn’t feel too bad about it—what mother hadn’t wished for her child to just go to sleep already at some point in their parental career? But she didn’t exactly love the idea of her kid being magic-ified to sleep either. She leveled a gaze in his direction.

  “He knows.”

  The briefest flicker of guilt passed over his face. “Deal,” he sighed with a slight smile. Maggie whooped with excitement. She kissed her mother goodnight and took off at a skipping-jog for her room. Declan stood from the table and pushed his chair in. He bent slightly towards Rosie as he passed behind her chair.

  “Spoilsport,” he murmured before following Maggie.

  Chapter 11

  “It sparkles in the light. Look!” Maggie held the pendant out in front of her for Rosie to see. They both stopped walking to marvel at the way dandelion puff in the small glass ball glittered.

  “It’s beautiful,” Rosie agreed, as they started walking again. “It was very kind of Declan to think of you.”

  “Yeah,” Maggie agreed. Rosie gave mental thanks again for Declan agreeing to give her child the protection charm. It was a fun new bauble for Maggie to admire, but for her, it was a little more peace of mind.

  They walked down The Ridge into town, Maggie with her backpack full of activities and Rosie with a sack full of laundry that she would do after her shift.

  “I wonder if you can make a wish with it,” Rosie said, reaching out to straighten Maggie’s curls.

  “I’ve already tried, but nothing happened.” Maggie pulled a face, and Rosie smiled.

  Rosie smiled, squinting into the bright morning sun as they trekked. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see if it comes true. Sometimes these things take a while.”

  Rosie found her mind drifting as she thought about the story Declan had shared the night before. Up until recently, she’d thought that he was a little nuts. But more and more things were happening that she couldn’t explain. Her phone. The candle. Terry. Was there an ancient promise that still waited to be fulfilled?

  The sound of a car approaching from behind pulled her from her thoughts. Out of habit, she reached for Maggie’s hand and moved in on the shoulder of the road so that they were out of the car’s path. Sidewalks only extended to the civilized part of town.

  Rosie didn’t notice that the car slowed as it approached because she was listening to Maggie talking about dandelions and wishes. As the car rushed past them, a voice rang out across the road.

  “Whore!”

  The sound was enough to make both Rosie and Maggie turn to look. Rosie caught an egg to the side of her head, the impact dazing her and causing her to stumble. An egg aimed at Maggie landed right in the middle of her chest, smashing and dribbling ooze all over her favorite t-shirt. A few more eggs fell around them and between them, but no more hit their targets.

  The pair stood there in shock as the car drove off, Rosie staring at the receding license plate. And then fury overtook her.

  She concentrated on the rest of the eggs she knew must be in the car and narrowed her eyes. A moment later, the sound of something splattering all over the inside of the car echoed down the street. The vehicle swerved before coming to a slow stop.

  Rosie gasped. Egg dripped down the inside windows of the SUV, and she breathed, terrified that something awful had happened to the boys inside. The SUV began to move again, corrected itself back into the lane, and then spun its wheels as it peeled away at a much faster pace than it had been going moments before.

  “Mom, what was that?”

  When she turned to comfort Maggie, her daughter was staring at her, but she had no idea what to say. She opened her mouth, but all the wishful thinking in the world wouldn't make an explanation come to her.

  “Here,” Maggie then said and bent over to collect weedy leaves for them both. She handed one to Rosie.

  “Are you okay?” She asked. It was such a sweet and selfless gesture that Rosie had to fight tears back.

  “I’m fine, baby,” she lied. She wasn’t fine. She was as mad as a cut snake and terrified of her power, but she wasn’t about to let that show. “Just look at your shirt. Here,” she began to use her leaf to scrape the egg off Maggie’s top, and between them, they managed to clean up as best they could.

  It would have been easier to take Maggie home after that and reassess how they were going to tackle the vicious neighborhood gossips that seemed to circle overhead like vultures. But Rosie refused to let the lesser assets of Backwards USA get her down when she had already braved Randy’s anger by leaving him. They continued the walk into town, Rosie’s arm slung over her daughter’s shoulder, and Maggie’s little arm tucked protectively around her mother’s waist.

  “They egged you?” Ben asked as he brought paper towels out from behind the counter and started to rip wads off. “Entitled little shits,” he said, and then as he handed the paper towels to Maggie, “Excuse my language, sweetheart. But man! That kind of behavior just—” He glanced at Maggie again and pushed his lips together, then looked back at Rosie with a whispered “- makes me so damn mad!”

  He pointed at Rosie as he walked to wet a wad of paper towels in the sink. “You should report it to the Sheriff’s Department. Here.” He held out the wet towels, and Rosie accepted it gratefully. She began to wipe the sticky remnants of the egg off the side of her face, dampening and smoothing it over her long brown hair.

  “There’s no point,” Rosie conceded. “There never is in towns like this. And besides, the whole town has it out for me.”

  “Not the whole town.” Ben consoled her.

  Rosie scoffed. “Well, a good portion of it!”

  “It’s only because you’re the new girl in town,” Ben said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Soon enough, people are gonna get to knowin’ and acceptin’ you,” he promised. “Just you wait’n see.”

  That comment was the trigger.

  “You know,” Rosie said, her irritation leveling out into full-on anger. She put her free hand on her hip and gripped the broom with the other. “Since coming here, I’ve been spied on, hit on, been shunned by townsfolk, and had eggs thrown at me.” She took a breath, trying to get her temper under control before she said something she would regret. “So, with all due respect Ben, your down-home views on Mosswood don’t really gel with my personal experiences so far.”

  He blinked, a pink tinge coloring his cheeks as his eyes settled on anywhere but her. She hadn’t meant to call him out that way, and she already wished she hadn't. He was still her boss, and she’d just jumped down his throat.

  He looked over at Maggie, who was standing a little way away, trying to pretend she wasn't listening to the adults. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of quarters.

  “Here,” he said, holding out the change to Maggie. “Why don't you go play some Pac-Man while I talk to your mom.”

  “Awesome!” Maggie hurried over to the retro
video game as though frightened Ben would change his mind.

  Ben met Rosie’s gaze, holding his hand up in an expression of surrender. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know about your struggles, Rosie. And I know I told you to keep the drama away from work, but I hope you know I’m always here to lend an ear if you need one.” He shrugged. “I was new in town once, too.”

  Rosie sighed, holding the limp towels in front of her. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I shouldn't take it out on you.”

  “It’s okay,” Ben told her with casual ease, leaning his butt against the counter. “You’re only human, Rosie.”

  She snorted with a breath of wry laughter as she folded over the damp towels. “Don’t feel it, lately,” she confessed in a small voice.

  Ben tilted his head as he looked at her. “You look like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders. Everything alright?”

  Rosie huffed a breath out and then shook her head. “No.”

  Ben paused as though uncertain of himself before he spoke. “You wanna tell me what happened up at your cottage?” He peered at Rosie in a friendly but probing manner. “I mean, what really happened. With Terry?”

  Rosie sighed and recounted the story. It felt good to have at least one person know the truth, that she wasn’t the man-snatching home wrecker Tammy and Prissy wanted everyone to believe she was.

  “Well, just as well Tammy found out now about her husband. Sorry it had to involve you,” Ben said, frowning. “You’re right, though. Reportin’ the egging wouldn't do a fat lot a good. Sheriff Holt is Terry’s brother.”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Great.” Then a thought occurred to her, and she narrowed her eyes at Ben. “You knew Terry wasn't faithful to Tammy?”

  “Not 'knew,'“ he replied. He stood and searched through a cabinet, then returned with an opened chocolate bar that looked like it might have been part of his lunch. Rosie took it as he continued in explanation. “But I've seen his roamin' eyes, if not his roamin' hands, if you know what I mean.”

  He brushed his palms onto his jeans. “He'd better watch himself. The only person people in this town like more than Tammy is the pastor, and if he didn't have a direct line to the big guy upstairs, I'm not sure even he would stand a chance.”

  Rosie pressed her lips together in a thin line and then took a bite of her chocolate. “Thanks,” she said. “It’s nice to know that not everyone in Mosswood is willing to tar me with the same brush.”

  “It took a long while for me to be accepted here, too,” he admitted. “But I did get accepted. Eventually.” He stood straighter. “Be careful what you wish for, though—once you’re one of us, there’s no such thing as privacy or personal space.”

  Rosie smiled. “Dunno that there’s much of that now.”

  “Oh, it gets worse,” he assured her. “Just you wait.”

  Revenge was at the forefront of Rosie’s mind as she started her shift that afternoon. Rosie knew that Prissy wasn’t a fan of hers, but thinking that she would raise a son who threw eggs at a child made Rosie’s blood boil. After completing all the usual start-of-shift chores, Rosie settled in behind the register. When an older man approached her to deliver a stack of neatly folded papers, Rosie knew what form her revenge would take.

  The man paid without making eye contact and hurried out of the door, leaving her with the papers he had stacked on the counter—several newly minted copies of that month’s Herald of Hope Magazine. And there, on the front cover in full color-printed glory (again), was Pastor Bishop with his wife and son leading the charge at the last Church event.

  Rosie didn’t even hesitate. She snatched the black pen from the top of the register's keyboard and started to give Prissy a creative makeover. The scribbled-on beard was over-the-top, but when combined with huge shaggy eyebrows, a hooked snout with a wart in place of Prissy’s perfect, tiny nose and three blackened teeth-gaps, it all came together. Rosie was still scribbling when a shadow covered her handiwork, and she scrambled to cover the Prissy-monster she’d created.

  Declan was grinning down at her. “Nice,” he crooned. “Didn’t realize you’re an artist.”

  Rosie could feel herself blushing. Declan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter. It was clear that he was expecting an explanation, and she didn’t know what to tell him. She avoided his gaze. She slipped the newsletter off the counter, folding it in half so that her artwork was on the inside.

  “What’s up?” he prompted her.

  She sighed. Declan was the best friend she had right now. He’d helped her out with chores, set up the protective magic, been there for Maggie. Rosie bit the inside of her cheek as she weighed her options. The truth will set you free, right?

  “Maggie and I got egged on our way into town this morning.”

  “What?”

  “Egged,” she repeated, glancing over at where Maggie was enthralled with Pac-Man and lowering her voice. “It’s where someone drives past you and—”

  “I know what it means. I just can’t believe that someone in this town thinks they can get away with doing that to you and Maggie.”

  The protective tone of his voice made Rosie's shoulders relax and her cheeks threaten to turn up in a smile. But she didn’t want him to think that she needed him to turn vigilante on the residents of Mosswood.

  “I’m only going to tell you about what happened if you promise not to do anything about it,” she warned him. “I’m telling you to get your advice and support, not so you can run off looking to be my knight in shining armor. Agreed?”

  Declan’s eyes roamed her face. She could see the scales in his mind weighing things, torn between wanting to support her and make whoever did this pay for it. At long last, he gave her a curt nod. “Agreed.”

  “Good.” Rosie stood tall, feeling like it might give her the strength to tell the story from the beginning.

  She told him about what happened the afternoon Terry had come by her place, and how it had devolved into the neighborhood having it out for her. Declan listened with a face of stone. Rosie didn’t know whether he looked more handsome because of his seriousness or imposing. She settled on the latter, and as she drew to the end of her story, she eyed him warily.

  “That’s it,” she finished.

  Declan stared at her. It wasn’t the same kind of lingering look he’d given her before, where his eyes had traveled over her nose, lips, throat, and then back to her eyes. There was no cocky gleam in his eyes, no smirk hovering on his lips. He looked ready to rumble, and Rosie worried that he would break his promise and rampage through the town, cracking skulls as he went.

  And she couldn’t say that the thought was unappealing.

  “I see,” he said finally.

  Silence crept between them. The store was empty except for them and Maggie—Ben was taking the afternoon off, and things would be slow until the next morning. Rosie watched Declan’s face for signs of life, but when he gave nothing away, she had to take the bait.

  “You see?” she asked, shocked. “That's all you have to say?”

  He met her gaze then, and she could see the tortured look in his eyes.

  “No. That’s not even close to being fuckin’ all,” he growled. His hands curled into tight fists on the countertop, and she could feel the air crackling with energy around him.

  “Why have yeh let the people in this shithole town treat yeh so badly? To the point where they think it’s okay to throw eggs at you and your wee’an?”

  “Me?” she asked, before lowering her voice to a furious whisper. “You're blaming me for someone throwing eggs at me?”

  He flustered, looking around the front of the store as though he might find something there to help him express his feelings. When he failed, he flapped his arms by his side.

  “Of course, it’s not your fault you got egged,” he said in a hushed voice. “But why haven’t you reported it to the Sheriff or something? What if that egg had hit you or Maggie in the eye? One or both of you could hav
e been seriously hurt. Nobody treats you like this and gets away with it!”

  “Because the Sheriff is Terry’s brother!” Rosie exclaimed a little louder than she had meant to. “So, what’s the damn point? And they didn't get away with it. I was so mad after it happened, I used magic to explode the eggs they still had all over their car.”

  Declan paused in his rant and then laughed, the kind that said he was trying to hold it in, but it burst out through closed lips anyway. “So, you… you egged them back?”

  She tilted her head to look at him. “Yes! I egged them back! I know they’re stupid kids who threw eggs at me, but what if it had hit them in the eye? They were driving! What if they ran off the road or into oncoming traffic?”

  Declan sobered, and she lifted her eyebrows. “I'm not in control of my magic, and I need to be.” She looked down at the counter, over at her daughter, and then back up at him. “What if I hurt Maggie?”

  He let out a long breath, nodding as the realization of what Rosie was saying settled around him. “You’re right,” he told her. “We do need to work on getting your magic under control. You’ve already shown so much promise, what with fixin’ the window and redoing the wards around the cottage. I guess I lost sight of the fact that you’re still new at this.”

  He reached out, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder before he squeezed it. “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, good,” Rosie said. Her emotions were a tangled snarl of confusion, excitement, anger, fear, and hope. They all shoved against one another, and she wasn’t sure which of them she was supposed to let herself feel first. “I only just found out that I’m a witch. It’s too much to ask that I just happen to know how to be one without a little help!”

  “We’ll work on it together,” he promised, rubbing his hand on her upper arm. Rosie found herself leaning into his touch. “But something has to be done about this neighborhood vendetta against you. You need to feel safe, and that shit’s not cool.”