Over the Broom

by Sara Bourgeois

  “They’re still alive, Amelda. I just need your help.”

  “Yes, dear,” she said as she knelt down with me.

  I couldn’t ever recall seeing Amelda cry. Even as she saved Annika before, she remained stoic. This time, though, her stoic façade cracked. Tears ran down her face as she looked at her grandchildren.

  “We can do this,” I said.

  Amelda took my hand and I placed my other on Remy while she placed her other on Annika. “We’re one here,” I said. “We are a circle of life. Four generations united,” I looked down at my stomach. “Little one, I hate to ask anything of you when you are so close to the very beginning of your life journey, but I feel your strength. Can you help me save your daddy and our witch sister?”

  The warmth began to spread from the pit of my stomach. It became so hot that at first, I thought it would burn through me, but I found that it did not hurt me the way physical fire would. White light filled the room as the heat traveled to my shoulders and then down my arms to my fingertips.

  Remy and Annika each took a deep, shuddering breath, and then the color began to return to their faces. I almost expected Annika to look older because that was the second time magic had helped her cheat death, but she actually looked a few years younger. Remy did as well. Not only had the baby’s magic healed the poison, but it had taken back some of the ravages of time as well.

  I knew right then how powerful my daughter could be, and I knew I had to protect her at all costs. If it got out into the world that she could do what she’d just done, the world would want a piece of her until there was nothing left. And she had done it being just the size of a peanut.

  At some point it would hit me what she could become someday. In that moment, I was just so happy we’d saved my husband and best friend. My sister not by blood, but still my sister.

  Gunner rushed into the room and helped us get Annika into a chair. Remy stood on his own and went to the table. He scooped up Meri and held him to his chest until Meri started to breathe again.

  “We can’t just leave Gerty,” I said as I realized Gunner had left her unattended.

  “I don’t think that will be a problem,” Amelda said through gritted teeth.

  I turned to look, and Gerty was on her knees in the dining room doorway. Tears streaked down her face, and she kept mumbling, “I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” over and over.

  “What happened to her?” I asked Amelda.

  “I’m guessing it was the angel light from the baby that did it. It would have been like staring into the stuff that makes up the universe or the face of the goddess for someone who wasn’t a witch.”

  “But Gunner is okay,” I mused.

  “Gunner is a good person, and I’m still not entirely convinced that he’s a mere human,” she said with a smile. “But that’s something to worry about another time.”

  I thought the Aunties would have put Gerty down right away, but they did not. For one thing, she no longer even resembled the evil mastermind behind the plot to kill us all. She was a babbling mess who had had a profound shift inside of her. Gerty was suffering so much for what she had done, and the Aunties were content to let that go on.

  They kept her locked away in one of their houses, though. She was a prisoner of the Skeenbauer coven and no longer posed a threat to anyone.

  In addition to their reluctance to pass the judgment of the old ways on a severely mentally damaged woman, the Aunties also wanted information. Gerty was no witch, and she hadn’t made that witch poison on her own. Some witch out there had betrayed their own kind and sold the potion to her.

  Not just that potion either. The reason no one at Bob’s place recognized Gerty was because she’d obtained a salve that would let her change her appearance. A nasty little concoction that required the fat from an innocent.

  The Aunties were determined to get Gerty to give up her supplier. That witch would not get any kind of lenience from the Skeenbauers. They would be locked away in the family crypt as soon as they were caught so the Black Widow could have her fun.

  The only problem was that no one could get through to Gerty. So I decided to try.

  I walked into the room where she was being held, and her head whipped around so fast that I thought it was possible her neck snapped. Her eyes went as wide as saucers, and I could see the tremors of terror begin in her hands.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said softly.

  “Why not?” she whispered back. “I tried to kill you. I tried to kill your baby.”

  “Because there is someone out there who could still hurt us and has the will to do so. You can redeem yourself and help me stop them,” I said.

  “There’s no redemption for me.” She choked and started to cry. “I didn’t know.”

  “I know you didn’t, Gerty, but what you do know is why. Why did you hate us so much? You had to have dedicated your life to finding a way to hurt us. It was a long life. What kept your hate going all that time?”

  “Because of everything you have. Because of everything I never had. I could never be like you, and it’s not fair.”

  “How did you even know about us?” I asked. “There’s magic in place to keep that from happening.”

  I knew it didn’t work on everyone, though. Thorn had been able to see through it too.

  “When I was little, there was a group of little girls who didn’t go to school with us. They played in the woods near my house, though. I always wanted to play with them, but they ignored me. All but one. She would meet me by an old twisted tree and we’d play for hours while the other girls weren’t around. It lasted a while until she was caught, and her friends threatened to tell on her for playing with me.

  “She cried when she told me goodbye, but she left me a gift. It was a small blue stone with what I thought was a star carved into it. I now know it was a pentagram, and it helped me see through the spell that keeps the other humans in Coventry from seeing the magic around them.

  “Even though she wouldn’t play with me anymore, I still went out to that twisted tree at least once a week. In high school, it led to me meeting a boy. He was a witch too, and we snuck out to see each other for a year before he was caught. His family moved away in the middle of the night. Things were different then. The witches didn’t mix with us regular humans the way they do now,” Gerty said.

  Suddenly, Amelda appeared in the corner of the room. She’d been using some sort of cloaking spell to hide herself. “I know who she’s talking about,” Amelda said. “That little girl wasn’t a Skeenbauer witch, and her family moved away a long time ago. I can find her, though. Once I confirm that she was the one who sold Gerty the poison, she’ll be dealt with.”

  “What are you going to do to Gerty now that you know who sold her the poison?” I asked.

  “We’re giving her what she always wanted,” Amelda said.

  “I’m confused. You can’t turn her into a witch.”

  “We can’t, but we can turn her into a familiar. When Gerty passes away, her soul won’t become a ghost or cross to the other side. She’ll become a Skeenbauer family familiar.”

  “You can’t do that,” I protested. “You can’t just force her to serve the family like that. She deserves to die and move on.”

  “She can’t move on, Brighton. She spent her entire life plotting revenge and tried to kill all of the people we love.”

  “But she saw the error of her ways. She’s repented,” I said.

  “What do you think this is, Sunday School? Brighton, it doesn’t work like that. Redemption is earned. It’s not something you’re given because you say a few magical words at the end of your life when you realize how bad you screwed up. And I’m afraid Gerty doesn’t have long left. She’s already in her nineties and while the angel light healed the witches, the weight of what it revealed to Gerty, plus her time here with my sisters, has aged her another ten years. She had no time left for redemption,” Amelda said. “It’s a far less gruesome fate than being shoved into
the Skeenbauer crypt with the Black Widow and the others you never had the pleasure of meeting.”

  “You’re showing her mercy,” I said.

  “We are. As long as she wants it,” Amelda said.

  “Oh, I do,” Gerty said. “I really do.”

  She looked like a child on Christmas morning.

  “She wanted to kill us all,” I said, realizing the implications of what Amelda was going to do.

  “She won’t be able to hurt us once we transform her,” Amelda said. “We’ll bind her to her obligation to serve our family. We’ll tattoo her with a sigil that will hold her to her duties. It will be perfectly safe.”

  Seven months later…

  I was making dinner for the evening when there was a knock at my door. I looked out the window and saw that it was Annika and she had a new friend in her arms. I opened the door and Annika came in and set the little pink pig down.

  “Did Gerty get to pick which animal she would be?” I said with a chuckle.

  “Hey, toots, I’m right here,” Gerty the pig said. “And yes, they let me choose.”

  “And you chose a pig?” I asked.

  “Well, I mean, cat seemed so cliché. I never really liked dogs, but I do remember this time when I was little. My dad took me to a petting zoo. There was this little pink pig that ran right up to me and let me give it a hug. I gave it all of the little pellets we bought for a penny from the guy who ran the petting zoo.”

  “That’s a sweet story,” I said. “Well, I’m glad you wanted to be a pig.”

  “It’s great. Annika here put a little swimming pool in the back yard for me, and I get to eat whatever I want. Oh, and I can watch the neighbors, and no one looks at me like I’m weird,” Gerty said. “Oh, hey.”

  “Yeah?” Annika asked.

  “Something’s about to happen,” Gerty said.

  “What?” I was confused.

  “She’s right,” Meri said as he sauntered into the room. “You’re…”

  Before Meri could say anything, it felt like a donkey kicked me in the stomach. The sensation took my breath away.

  “Oh, gawd, that hurt!” I howled.

  Annika reached out and put her hand on my huge stomach. The pain melted away, but there was still this huge feeling of pressure and urgency.

  “Where is Remy?” Annika asked.

  “He’s not home from work yet,” I said. “Why?” But, deep inside, I already knew the answer.

  “I’m going to call him, Brigid, and Amelda. Oh, and anyone else you want. You need to go put on that gown that Brigid gave you,” she said with a smile.

  “It’s too soon,” I whispered.

  “It’s not, Brighton. This happens sometimes. Our kind like to make their debut a little early. Now, go get ready, honey. You’re about to become a mama.”

  Thank you for reading!

  Grab the next installment of the Wicked Witches of Coventry series here:

  Baby Broom

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  © Sara Bourgeois 2019

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons alive or dead is a coincidence.