Charms & Clouds
Emilia Spring
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Hi Reader!
About the Author
Copyright © 2018 Emilia Spring
Charms & Clouds
By Emilia Spring
Much love to the book that got wildly out of control.
All rights reserved.
This is the lesfic version of a cozy I wrote under another name.
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Chapter One
I hadn't really expected to spend my Friday morning standing at the top of a hill, staring at the incoming lightning storm. But there I was, waiting, with my insane grandmother standing next to me.
See, I’d moved to Pine Lake a couple months ago, only to find out that, surprise, I'm a witch. Oh and by the way, my Grandma Marguerite’s missing daughter is my long-lost mother.
Then, there was this whole murder thing that I’d got involved with and after that, a kid needed a home. So, I’m 29, a former social worker, and a pseudo-parent. And a weather witch. Which is how we'd ended up doing this whole, standing on one of the taller parts of the mountain, staring at the lightning, thing.
Gianna had been smart about the experience – she’d decided to stand back at least fifty feet, the book she'd been reading clutched in her hands. I could barely see her, but I could feel the amusement in her eyes. She thought the whole thing was hilarious. Like me, Gianna was a witch, but she was a spirit witch.
She had been shunned by the community because they believed in dark magic. It was a whole long, complicated story. But, we all got along pretty well, except when my grandmother was terrorizing me. And when I had to set curfews. Parenting was hard.
“Are you nervous?” Grandma Marguerite asked, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
I looked back at her. “In what world would I not be nervous?” To be fair, if you asked me, being nervous was the sane thing to be. Only crazy people weren’t nervous about what was going on here.
Then again, I was a witch. I wasn't sure exactly where that put me on the sanity spectrum.
“You're sure she won't get hit?” I looked at Marguerite.
She just gave me that “child, please” look. I was now quite familiar with that look, in all its various incarnations. Gianna was 11 and entering that lovely preteen stage. But, she was a good kid, even though her mother had died eight years before and her Grandma barely a month ago. She was handling it about as well as could be expected.
There was another dark roll of thunder and I looked back up at the sky, my attention redirected.
I’d missed the lightning, so I had no idea how far away it was. When I looked at Marguerite, though, she looked way too satisfied. Personally, I wanted to go find something to hide under, but instead, I stood up there on top of that freaking summit, waiting to be hit by lightning. Sweating.
“Stay there,” Marguerite said, taking a step forward.
Marguerite was also a weather witch. It wasn't something you ever would've expected of her, because she kind of looked like everyone’s jewelry-covered grandmother. She had that fluffy, cloud-like white hair hidden by a silk bandana, but her eyes were sharp, like she planned to eat you for dinner. While she hadn’t actually eaten anybody in the time I'd been there, I didn't put it past her. She dressed in those Bohemian blouses and skirts, and tended to be covered in bangles with large marbled discs. She looked like one of those TV psychics.
That was not something I said out loud, though. I rather liked my head attached my neck.
I dragged my focus away from everything that I’d been thinking about and turned it back to the situation at hand. I didn't think it was good for my attention to be wandering when I was staring at lightning. I took a deep breath, trying to sink into my magic. I’d just started learning about it, and so far, all I could really do with the wind was throw things around.
I should've said no when Marguerite had offered to show me the lightning storm, but like the crazy person I was, I’d said yes. Marguerite didn't like to really listen to the rules. There was an order in which you should learn stuff, but she didn’t really care.
It was both awesome and terrifying. Plus, I was pretty sure that “would you like to come” was a command phrased as a request. My superiors back in Minnesota had been very good at that.
I took a deep breath, my eyes closing. I made sure I was standing up straight and that my posture was strong. My magic could tell me where the winds were going.
I reached out and hooked a couple of them, manipulating them to see if I could. I spun one into a corkscrew, and sent the other one in a wide elliptical pattern. It was still hard, and I was breathing heavier when I finished, but it was easier than it had been originally. Wind was the easiest element to manipulate, so we’d started with that one. I could also do a little bit with rain.
And by that, I meant, I could make it rain inside. Not really useful.
“Deep breath,” Marguerite said, amusement in the tone of her voice.
“Yes ma'am,” I said, taking another deep breath like she asked. I could feel my magic filling me up, drawing energy from the crackling world around us. I had never known that a weather witch was a thing, but now I couldn't really imagine being anything else. For all that I was nervous, and for all that I felt completely insane, there was something I was addicted to, standing up there, feeling the energy in the lightning crack around me, hearing the deep rumble of the thunder as it went by. I knew that I was entirely, completely safe, especially with Marguerite there.
We’d skipped meditation, which probably wasn't the greatest thing, but Marguerite had been in a hurry to get to the storm. There was another crack of lightning, and then a few seconds later thunder roared.
“It's close,” Marguerite said, sounding way too cheerful for my liking.
I wanted to mutter something sarcastic, but I didn't dare. I glanced back at Gianna, who was settled on the ground, a small shield on top of her. Relief hit me like lightning. Marguerite had guarded her. Instead of being caught in the weird storm, or drenched by rain, Gianna was in this nice little rainproof bubble.
There was a large cracking sound and the ground exploded in front of me. I jumped back, my heart racing. “What the hell was that?” I couldn't stop the words, even though I realized they were dumb once they’d come out.
Marguerite didn't say anything and started laughing.
Well wasn't that suitably creepy.
I took a half-step back.
“Stay still,” Marguerite instructed. “If you don't, I'll make sure you do.”
Grumbling, I straightened back up, keeping my eyes half closed. She hadn't told me to close them, but I wasn't entirely certain I wanted to see the lightning coming for me or Marguerite.
There was another
crash, and I heard Marguerite's laughing intensify, saw her arms raise. She was smiling as the white flame engulfed her, seemingly draining its power.
I stared at her, and watched as the lightning bolt that hit her dimmed in size and color. Then she opened her eyes, opened her clenched hands, and revealed two little yellow circles, smaller than marbles, in them. I reached out to touch them and flinched back. Not because I didn’t want to touch Marguerite, but because I could feel the scorching heat of them.
“Doesn't that burn your hands?” The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was the lightning.
“No,” Marguerite said dreamily, looking down at the baubles. She tucked them into a pocket, although where the pocket was or where it came from I didn't know.
She turned to look at me, and I could still see sparks of lightning in her eyes.
Okay, she’d just confirmed that she was crazier than I thought she was. Who willingly let themselves get struck by lightning? Marguerite smiled her devious smile, and I half turned to look at her, my eyes narrowing. Then she pointed at me.
There was a large crack and my body went hot all over, my eyes closing forcefully. It felt like my skin was burning, like my whole body was burning from the inside out. My hands were pinned to my sides, and it took all of my strength not to fall to my knees. I could feel the energy sizzling under my skin, melding with the magic that I knew was there. The light was blinding, and I clenched my eyes shut as tight as I could.
I was afraid I would be blinded when I opened my eyes. I waited for the heat to subside, feeling the humidity against my skin, for the prickling sensation to fade. When I finally opened them it was hard to breathe, because I was still warm all over. Raindrops had started steaming when they hit my skin, evaporating.
“I released the energy,” Marguerite said. “You can't create the baubles yet.”
“Thanks,” I said, letting myself sink to one knee and tilting my head towards the ground, focusing on breathing. My muscles were twitching, and it was hard to keep standing. As it was, it – surprisingly felt good. I felt electrified, pretty much literally. Like I could take on the world.
“Was it that bad?” Marguerite asked, smug.
I turned to look at her, but I wasn't brave enough to say anything. My Mom always told me, if you couldn’t say something nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all. Or however the saying went.
“Speak, child.” She snapped her fingers, and the winds lifted me back up onto my feet. If there was one thing I envied, really envied, it was her effortless mastery of the winds. She was so good at what she did. That was why she was on the Witch's Council.
Slowly the winds around me eased, but I stayed standing. I could see the lightning flash in the sky, but the thunder was ten or twenty seconds later. It had moved, and moved quickly.
“It’s started to move off,” Marguerite said, and there was a trace of sadness to her voice.
“Okay,” I said, both sad and not. It was always cool to learn something new. But I also wasn’t certain I wanted to keep playing with lightning until I could actually do something with it.
I half turned, making sure that Gianna was okay, only to see her book on her lap and her face staring at me, eyes wide.
“I take it most witches can't do that?” I looked at Marguerite.
Marguerite snorted. “Metal witches come closest,” she said. “They could sustain the heat, but it would be difficult.”
I thought of my friend Avery, who was a metals witch and had done all sorts of nifty things. I couldn’t really imagine her signing up to be hit with a lightning bolt. She had a lot more smarts than I did.
I took a step towards Gianna, surprised when my muscles didn't fail me.
“You get used to it,” Marguerite said.
I turned and looked at her. “Used to it?”
Her eyebrows raised. “You didn't think this would be the last time you’d do this, did you?”
I resisted rolling my eyes through sheer act of will. “Oh,” I said, trying to convey that I did indeed think this would be the last time I would be doing something this crazy. But whatever. Crazy was just how my life had become.
We stood there for a while longer, the thunder rolling by and slowly becoming quieter. Marguerite was still pointing, flicking her fingers one direction or another. I wondered if she was meant to be directing the lightning, or whether the lightning was telling her what to point at.
It sounded crazy that there was a difference, but there really was. That was the hard thing about the weather. You never knew if you could manipulate it, or if it was manipulating you.
Other types of witches had it easier. Sam, my cousin and friend, was a cooking witch. She could manipulate food, ingredients, cooking times - they didn't manipulate her. Me – I played with fire – almost literally – every time I worked my magic.
Okay, yeah, there was that one time that I’d accidentally almost hit someone with lightning in the middle of the town. And lit some foliage on fire. It had been that one time, but no one was ever going to let me forget it.
“That was awesome,” Gianna said, coming up behind me.
I turned and looked at her, being good and not narrowing my eyes. Her grey-blue eyes were wide with glee, and her book was clutched tightly to her chest. Marguerite had apparently dropped the guard, because her brown hair was starting to stick to her face. Gianna scowled briefly at Marguerite, then tucked the book under her jacket to ensure it didn't get wet from the rain.
“I'm glad somebody appreciated it,” Marguerite said with a sniff.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes for the umpteenth time. The whole family was full of drama queens, I swear. My friend Sam was the worst. Speaking of.
“Anything else?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as respectful as I could. Sam had mentioned something about taking me for coffee and showing me what the weird packets that the coffee maker gave out could do. I'd been taught not to take powder in small bags from strangers, but apparently that didn't apply as much in a magic town.
“You're dismissed,” Marguerite said with a wave. “Go away.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly. That was practically a compliment. I turned to look at Gianna, who was still staring at Marguerite with wide eyes. “Are you coming?” I asked, glancing between them.
For second Gianna hesitated, and I thought she was really going to stay with Marguerite. I would've been fine with that – the more friends that she made in this town, the better. And Marguerite was a good person to have on your side.
“I'm coming,” Gianna said, turning away from Marguerite and coming to my side.
We started towards the weirdly treacherous path down the summit leading to the small meadow we had parked in. It wasn't long trail, but we’d driven there, me in my car with Gianna and Marguerite in her own car. I wasn't really certain she should be driving, but you didn't really tell Marguerite no. Not if you wanted to keep all your fingers, toes, and limbs still attached.
I stretched, relieved as we made it all the way down. At the base of the stairs were Sam and Avery, who had their arms crossed over their chests. “Did you die?” Sam asked.
I looked between them, a bit baffled by their sudden appearance. “Do you think I'd still be here if I did?”
Avery rolled her eyes. “Ladies,” she chided. “Rock, paper, scissors to see who has to drive Marguerite home?”
Suddenly their presence made a lot more sense. Gianna stood behind me, looking apprehensive. Sam and Avery weren't sure what to do with her, not yet. Gianna had spent most of the month that I had had custody of her staying in the house, away from others. They had come over a couple times, and Gianna had met them, but social situations still made her nervous.
Not that I could really blame her. Her mother had been involved in a scandal about eight years ago, and her reputation tarnished by black magic. Everyone had assumed that the whole family was cursed. While we’d cleared her mother's record and proved she had neve
r done black magic, it would take a while for society to catch up. There was no such thing as erasing memories like that.
Well, that and Rosetta had murdered someone. That didn’t help her family’s reputation either.
“Do we have to play rock, paper, scissors?” Sam muttered.
“You only say that because you lose more often than not,” Avery retorted.
“Do not,” Sam said with a scowl. Then they did a quick game of rock, paper, scissors.
Sam lost. “Best two out of three,” Sam said, desperation to her voice.
I sighed. “If you two are done?”
Sam scowled at both of us. “I hate you.”
“Don't get electrocuted,” I called after her.
Sam gave me the middle finger. I bit back a grin. Then she turned towards the path, apparently heading to find Marguerite.
I turned to look at Avery, who grinned at me. “Glad to escape that,” I said dryly.
“Ready to go home?” Avery asked.
And by home, she meant this sort of creepy looking cottage that I’d inherited from my great aunt Mabel. A great aunt that I didn't know I had, because oh – that was the other thing. I was adopted, if the whole not-knowing-who-my-mother-was didn’t give it away.
I unlocked Ruth and got in the driver’s seat, waiting and watching as Gianna buckled herself into the back, Avery getting in the passenger side. “Let’s go home.” The word still sent prickles through my body. My adoptive parents had died four years ago, and nothing had really felt like home since. Mabel’s house – and her ghost – wasn’t perfect, but it felt like home. I had people who cared about me here, people who theoretically loved me.
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