A Witch Too Hot

by Paula Lester

  He pulled his fingers away and they watched as the newspaper’s pages fluttered like a bird wiggling its tail feathers in a shallow pool of water. Then, in a blur of movement, the paper fanned out and a dozen new pages burst out after the last of the mundane ones. Cas squeaked in surprise and jumped back a few inches. When the paper rustled to a stop, she crept forward to study the newly-emerged stories.

  An ad for a kennel meant to house witches’ familiars caught her eye. It purported to “take extra good care of your frog, cat, sloth, owl, or bat while you’re on vacation. Private suite for each familiar, with their preferred food. Magic-dampened containment units that feel like home but are free from the temptation to indulge in unguided magic. Licensed and insured against fire, theft, and inter-familiar dueling.”

  Cas chuckled as a mental image jumped into her mind of a sloth and owl battling it out while their witches relaxed on a tropical island. For some reason, in her imagination, the vacationers were decked out in long black dresses and pointed hats like in children’s fairy tales instead of bikinis swim shorts like every other tourist on vacay.The picture in the paper showed the familiars separated and smiling, living it up in suites complete with a mini-bar.

  Graham flipped through the magical section of the paper and said, “Here we go.” He tapped an article that took up two full pages. The headline read, “Siren Election Soon. Nominations Still Open. High Council Desires More Candidates.”

  Leaning in, Cas scanned the article, which featured headshots of smiling people, their names and short bios underneath. There were two men and one woman: Deciduous Dewman, Freesia Dolman, and Grover Flank. She didn’t recognize any of them, but that wasn’t a surprise. She’d barely scratched the surface of getting to know the folks in Crystal Springs’ magical community.

  In fact, she’d mainly been hanging out at home. Part of the reason why—Cas was a walking disaster zone. She just didn’t know how to control her powers yet. Magic was some fickle stuff. Not only could her abilities conjure tiny flying pigs and bursts of confetti when she coughed, sneezed, or hiccupped, but it had also been known to start fires. Who needed that kind of stress? Staying in seemed to decrease the incidents.

  She sighed. Even though it would be normal to think someone’s life would get more exciting after they became a witch, it wasn’t working out that way for Cas. She’d missed out on almost four decades of using magic and still couldn’t take advantage of having superpowers.

  Graham shot her a concerned look. But before he could say anything, a tinkling sound came from his pocket. He pulled out a cell phone and studied the screen. Meanwhile, Cas turned the newspaper page and perused more supernatural ads and articles. It was fascinating that this whole other world existed right under the noses of non-magical folks and they never had any idea.

  Sticking the phone back in his pocket, Graham said, “Looks like I need to go. The inspector is ready to look at the electric on a house I’m building. If I miss him, who knows when he’ll have an opening again. Probably six months, knowing that office.”

  He put his phone away and leaned forward to fish the postcard out from under the Gazette. “I almost forgot. This is the reason I came over in the first place.” He handed her the card, which was decorated with pumpkins and colorful leaves. “I misplaced this for a while, but I just found it this morning. The Fall Fling is tonight. We’re still on to go, right?”

  Cas made herself smile. A big social gathering wasn’t that high on her list. Her magic was a wild thing held in place by the thinnest of tethers. But that wasn’t the only issue she was at a loss about. It was as if she were a teenager, struggling to figure out her place in the world.

  She needed to get over the melancholy that had been hanging over her head. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t getting her anywhere. Perhaps having a super cute guy take her out to a fun party would be a great way to distract herself from useless self-pity. “I’d love to.”

  “Great! I’ll pick you up around six.” He squeezed her hand and grinned, verifying how gorgeous he truly was. “Have a good afternoon, okay?”

  After Graham let himself out, Cas made a cup of tea and looked out the front window. It was a nice day, and she thought again about hanging out in the backyard. She shivered and crossed to the thermostat, pushing it up. There wasn’t any need for the air conditioner to be going non-stop since she no longer felt like her blood was made of lava.

  With a sigh, she wandered back into the kitchen, thinking about her situation. She’d retired early, was newly divorced, and had just turned fifty. She’d been hoping for some excitement in her life. When her witch powers had manifested, Cas thought the answer had been dropped on her doorstep. But no, something was still missing.

  Her rumbling stomach signaled it was past lunch time. She made a ham and cheese sandwich and, along with a cup of tea, settled down at the table. While Cas ate, she perused the newspaper. She shook her head, skimming the articles about the secret Crystal Springs community. So much information had been right under her fingertips yet hidden and guarded as well as a dragon-protected fortress.

  The Fall Fling postcard caught her eye. She snatched it up, studying it closer while munching on her sandwich. A logo at the top revealed the Fling was sponsored by a real estate broker—one apparently named Deciduous Dewman. A small frown appeared on her face. She’d just seen that name in the Gazette. He was one of the people running in the siren election.

  Cas finished her sandwich, set the plate and teacup in the sink, and went into the den off the living room. There, she had a small desk and a computer. She punched Deciduous Dewman’s name into the search engine and pulled up a modern, clean-looking real estate website.

  Before she could explore it too much, a strange, almost holographic icon of a pink Victorian-style house shimmered in the upper left corner of the web page. As she looked at it, the image morphed into a dark brown colonial with a pillared porch. Curious, Cas clicked on the 3D image, expecting a new tab to open.

  Instead, the colonial’s roof exploded off. The words See You Soon floated out of the house and across the screen in a squiggly, comic-like script, getting larger as they went.

  What in the world? She tried clicking somewhere else on the screen, but nothing responded.

  The doorbell chimed.

  Cas’ jumped in the office chair. Maybe she needed to change that doorbell to something more soothing. It didn’t make sense to almost spring out her skin every time it rang. She shook her head and giggled at herself. Graham must have forgotten to tell her something.

  But when Cas pulled the door open, a man she didn’t know stood on the stoop. He was tall—probably about Graham’s height—and thin enough that she wondered for a second if he was seriously ill. He had a gaunt face that reminded her of Abe Lincoln and a mop of sandy brown hair that had two or three cowlicks causing sections to go off in numerous directions. “Hello! Thanks for calling. What kind of property are you looking for?”

  “P . . . property?” Wait, did this have something to do with the website? “Um. I’m not looking for a property.”

  He stuck his chin toward her, peering through tiny, round, wire-rimmed glasses that were way too small for his face. Then he glanced at the numbers mounted on the house next to the door and consulted an iPad she hadn’t realized he was carrying. “This is the right address. You or someone in your house definitely called me.” He looked up again, moving his neck to the side to peek past Cas into the house.

  He shrugged and stuck his right hand out, a giant smile spreading across his face. His mouth appeared to hold more teeth than a normal adult usually had. “I’m Deciduous K. Dewman. Desi for short. You can be assured that I’m able to handle all of your real estate needs with ease and grace.”

  She offered her hand, and he shook so hard it felt like her shoulder might bounce out of its socket. Desi seemed oblivious to that fact. When he released his grip, Cas couldn’t help but rub her upper arm, hoping it wouldn’t be sore the next day. “I think ther
e’s been a mistake. I was just looking at your website, but that’s all. I didn’t call you.”

  “Sure, you did! You clicked the holo-icon on my site, didn’t you?” He swiveled his neck to the left as though to present his right ear to hear her answer better. All the jerking around made Cas think of an ostrich.

  “Oh, yes. I did click something.” She narrowed her eyes. “Did that make you come here?”

  He bobbed his head up and down, causing his hair to flap about. The teeth popped out again as he beamed. “It did!” Then his smile faded, and he scrutinized her. “Don’t you know about holo-icons?”

  Cas shook her head.

  “They’re state-of-the-art techno-magic. All the best sites have them nowadays. You must not spend very much time on the web. Yes, yes. Holo-icons are all the rage, and I had one installed on my site just as soon as I could find someone who knew how to do it. Now, when someone clicks, my office is notified immediately. One of us gets on a courser and jets right over.” He tugged on the hem of his beige sport coat. “Of course, I usually come myself unless it’s dinnertime. I like to keep my finger on the pulse of business, you know?” His neck swiveled the other way, as though to present his left ear. “What did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t. But it’s Cascade Lorne. Everyone calls me Cas for short.”

  Desi straightened, jerking his head up. The gesture did nothing to remove the image of a fuzzy-headed ostrich from Cas’ mind. “The Cascade Lorne?” His voice was higher-pitched than it had been a moment before. “Are you the witch everyone’s talking about? The one who didn’t get her powers until she was sixty years old?”

  “Fifty!” Cas said, louder than she’d intended. Her eyes darted back and forth but no neighbors seemed to be outside. Thank goodness—she wasn’t trying to tell everyone in the neighborhood her age. “Would you like to come in for a minute, Mr. Dewman?” She realized their conversation should have been taken off the front stoop earlier. A few of people on her block were supernaturals but not everyone. It was good to use some discretion when discussing magical things in public.

  Desi entered the lobby and his eyes swept over the décor. He nodded and muttered to himself. “Good first impression. Nice coral color on the wall. Maybe a bowl of candy added to that table, there, and it would be perfectly staged for a walk-through.”

  Cas cleared her throat. “My house isn’t for sale.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. I understand.” He chuckled. “It’s just a habit of mine after so many years in the business. My eye’s always evaluating places for their sale appeal.”

  She led her guest into the living room and gestured toward a spot on the sofa. After he’d declined her drink offer, she sat in the chair across from him. “So that holo-icon thingy is something only supernatural folks can see?”

  “Yes. You know, you really should know about that by now. Who’s teaching you?” He set the iPad on the cushion beside him and leaned forward. Dewman’s long legs jutted out at uncomfortable-looking angles.

  Once upon a time, Cas had chosen the piece of furniture specifically because it was short and narrow enough for her feet to lay flat on the floor. Her ex-husband Sterling was taller and had hated the sofa. But in the last few years of their marriage, he’d spent most of his time at the casino anyway. Maybe in the back of her mind, Cas had known they’d be getting a divorce when she chose a couch that was just her size.

  “I haven’t found a mentor yet. I have a couple of friends who try to teach me what they can, but it’s slow going. My power doesn’t seem to respond the way they expect it to.” She dropped her eyes to the folded hands in her lap. “In fact, I’m having some pretty serious trouble controlling my magic. I’m hoping the High Council assigns me a mentor soon, but I hear they’re pretty busy with other things right now.” She studied his face.

  Desi leaned back again. “The siren election,” he agreed. “I would imagine that is keeping them busy enough that it would be hard to spare attention to choose your mentor.” He craned his neck toward her. If he’d had the beak her mind’s eye wanted to give him, it would really look like a pecking motion. “You know, I’m running for siren myself. Who are you planning to vote for?”

  “Well, I . . . don’t know. I mean, I’ve only just found out about the election this morning, so I haven’t had time to research . . .” Cas stumbled to a halt. It seemed supernatural politicians were pretty similar to human ones, always putting you on the spot about your vote. She drew herself up. “I’ll look into all the candidates and make a decision once I know more about the issues.”

  His face fell and he clucked his tongue. “Ah, quite right. Quite right. Well, what are your plans? Do you know what you’ll study or how you’ll fit into the magical community?”

  Cas shook her head. She could feel her face settling into a pout. “I really don’t know yet. The only thing I’m really sure about is I want to do something different with my life. Even before I discovered I’m a witch, I knew that. I’m ready for a major change. I just need to figure out what that will be, and right now, I kind of have no idea.”

  He pursed his lips and sat silent for a moment. Then he clapped both hands on his knees. “You should come to my Fall Fling tonight. It’s going to be a great party, and you’ll be able to meet lots of folks from the supernatural community. You know—make some nice friends.” He grinned. “It’s the event of the year, really.”

  Cas snorted. The man was the embodiment of a quintessential politician— not a modest bone in his body. In fact, he was a tad bit pushy. But his grin was just boyish enough to border on charming.

  “My friend, Graham Noble, invited me to the Fall Fling as his date,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Ah. Mr. Noble. That’s excellent. Glad to hear you’ll be there. Everyone who’s anyone will be in attendance. In fact, with the election on the horizon, I imagine people will be eager to discuss all the issues they’re hoping will be addressed by the new siren. There’s likely to be plenty of jockeying, lobbying, and schmoozing.” He leaned toward her. “Of course, it’s my party, so I get to be Head Schmoozer.”

  She chuckled, amused by the hint of mischief in his eyes. But, really, the last thing Cas wanted to listen to was politic rhetoric. Especially about witch politics, which was still a mystery to her.

  “You know,” Desi leaned in again. “I’m something of a big deal in the community.” His chest puffed out. “I know everyone, and I’m the perfect person to introduce you to important folks tonight.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  He glanced around the living room. “If I were you, I’d consider moving into Crystal Springs. You’ll have more opportunities for that change in life direction you’re looking for. In fact, I think I have the perfect property for you.” He grabbed the iPad and stood up. “Actually, I think I might know a good mentor for you too. If you have a little time, I’m happy to take you to meet him right now.”

  Cas hesitated. Desi Dewman had shown up on her doorstep after she’d clicked a computer link—was it a good idea to go somewhere with him?

  But he looked quite harmless standing there grinning, and she’d seen his picture in the paper as running for siren, so he must be a legitimate part of the supernatural community. And she really did need a mentor. Neither burning to death from the inside out nor allowing Mr. Percy to feed on her long-term were outcomes she wanted to pursue. And who knew when the council would be able to help her? She’d had a glimpse into their inner workings before and knew how they could waste loads of time bickering and getting very little accomplished.

  She stood and nodded . “Sure, that sounds good.”

  “Excellent. Do you have a nice, sturdy pair of rain boots?”

  Chapter 3

  Cas felt like an old hand at courser rides. She knew what to do when traveling on the magical, bubble-like contraption that rode ley lines to and fro much faster than any car.

  First, she snapped the orange pom-pom nose pincher into
place. They were necessary to block out the horrible stale cheese and sweaty feet stench inside the courser. Then Cas strapped herself into a plush armchair and closed her eyes. The bubble began to twirl in ever-quickening circles, but it didn’t make her nauseous like it had the first couple times she’d ridden in one.

  When the courser stopped moving, she and Desi took their nose pinchers off and left them on the seats for the next passengers. The bubble snapped out of existence around them. They dropped about six inches to land on dirt. At first, Cas felt a thrill of fear because everything looked dark. But her eyes adjusted, and she was able to make out that they were in a dingy old supply shed. Metal shelves attached to the walls were loaded with gas cans, lumber, and tools. Some of them looked ready to collapse at any second.

  Desi strode forward and pulled open a rickety door. Cas followed him out. They were on a gravel road facing a rustic-looking cabin with a firepit. Two more identical cabins stood beside the first.

  Cas turned around to see the other side of the road was lined with campsites, each sporting a firepit. A large blue tent took up the majority of one of the campsites. In the distance, there were a few more tents and even a couple RVs. “A campground?”

  “Orange Moon Campground, to be exact,” Desi confirmed.

  Two boys on bicycles flew past, kicking up gravel. “I’m going to win!” one shouted over his shoulder.

  The other stood on the pegs, shooting forward in a burst of speed. “I’m going to catch you!”

  “This way,” Desi said, taking off in the same direction the kids had gone.

  A faint layer of campfire smoke hung in the air. Orange Moon was not crowded, and Cas guessed they were entering the off-season. But there were people about, chatting around campfires, hanging wet items on clotheslines strung between trees, or strolling along the gravel road.