My Favorite Witch

by Lisa Plumley

  From the back of the room, Dayna cleared her throat.

  “Um…what do I do with this?” she asked.

  Still distracted by Francesca’s effortless absorption of the other witches’ admiration, T.J. glanced upward.

  Then he gawked. An enormous tiger stood beside Dayna, its eyes deadly and its fangs bared. Beside the creature’s huge clawed paws lay the remnants of Dayna’s pet carrier, its wire-mesh door and plastic sides twisted almost beyond recognition.

  The desks hadn’t been the only things to react to the magic in the room, T.J. realized. Dayna had reacted, too. While the other cusping witches had run for shelter, Dayna had altered her familiar into a form that could protect her. What was most amazing about the magic she’d used, though, was its appearance.

  It was unpixilated.

  Just as T.J. realized that unprecedented detail, the tiger lowered its head. It gave a rumbling growl. The threatening sound reverberated through the room. Fear whooshed from Dayna to T.J.; the class of witches collectively held its breath.

  Terrified, Dayna stood stock still.

  Her gaze met T.J.’s…then widened in recognition.

  She’d seen him not as Reynolds, T.J. realized, but as himself. That shouldn’t have been possible. But he had no time to contemplate the problem further. An instant later, the creature tensed and lunged toward the closest group of witches.

  Horrified into immobility, Dayna stared as her former kitten familiar lunged. As though the creature were moving in slow motion, every detail stood out to her. She glimpsed the tiger’s furry stripes, eerily reminiscent of her familiar’s tabby coloring. She saw the ripple of feline muscle and a flash of claws. Helplessly, she looked at T.J.—because that’s who he was, beyond all reason—and felt courage move from him to her.

  “Only you can stop this,” he said. “It’s your familiar.”

  His words, hoarsely spoken but imbued with calm awareness, snapped her out of her paralysis.

  “No!” Dayna dived forward, almost at the same instant as her familiar did. Blindly, she managed to grab two handfuls of rough-feeling, striped tiger fur. “Stop. Be still.”

  The tiger snarled. Twisting its spine, it leaped on its rear paws, towering over her. Dayna shrank back as its breath—bizarrely redolent of Kitten Chow—flowed over her in a hot rush. Its jaws snapped shut with an awful sound, inches above her staticky hair. Its eyes rolled back in its massive head.

  Her familiar was afraid, Dayna realized. It was afraid because she’d been afraid—and she’d reacted to that fear by transforming her familiar into a protective form. Somehow. She still wasn’t sure how she’d done it. Focusing on calming her breath, she made herself loosen her grip on the tiger’s fur. She stroked the creature’s heaving sides, murmuring comforting words. “It’s all right,” she crooned. “We’re all right now.”

  At her touch, her familiar shuddered. A weird feline vocalization rumbled through the air. Not quite a roar, not quite a purr, it felt like a mixture of both. The creature sank to its haunches, its gaze wary. Its huge body still quivered.

  “That’s it.” More boldly, Dayna petted the big cat. “You’re very brave, but we’re all right now. Shh. It’s all right now.”

  A hush fell over the classroom, broken only by her familiar’s panting breath and the scrape of its claws as it trembled. Dimly, she registered her classmates’ awestruck faces and fearful postures. She peered upward. T.J. had morphed into Professor Reynolds again, but this time, Dayna wasn’t fooled.

  For whatever reason, her tracer was in disguise, just as he’d been at the Covenhaven farmers’ market. She would not be the one to rip off that disguise…at least not tonight.

  Another rumble came from her familiar. The creature seemed to shrink in her arms. It contracted, shifted…changed. As it did, the sulfur stink in the room grew stronger. Dayna swayed beneath the force of her magic, absorbed in its raw strength.

  An instant later, she opened her arms. In place of the tiger she’d been cradling, her kitten sat alone on the classroom floor. It looked tiny, defenseless, and adorable again…but this time, the kitten’s feline gaze held a secret. It meowed.

  With a smile of relief, Dayna scooped up the kitten in her shaky arms. She glanced down at the wreckage of her new pet carrier, then shrugged. “I guess that one wasn’t a good fit?”

  Her fellow cusping witches laughed. Camille shot her a concerned look, then hurried over to help pick up the pieces of the ruined pet carrier. The other witches burst into motion, talking with each other; a few opportunistic witches showed memory flickers of the incident, destined for EnchantNet.

  “That’s enough.” T.J.—as Professor Reynolds—clapped his hands. “Witches, take your seats. We have more work to do.”

  A groan of disappointment went up, but Dayna wasn’t part of it. As the other witches returned to their places, scooping up their fallen books and purses and pencils, she cradled her kitten familiar. She gazed into its innocent-looking eyes.

  “Very impressive,” she murmured, “but how did we do that?”

  The creature merely stared back at her. What had she expected? An explanation of how she’d achieved her own magic?

  An instant later, the kitten leaped from her arms. Dayna jerked in readiness, fearing another unexpected transformation. But the kitten only pounced up to her shoulder, then climbed into the fleece hoodie she’d layered under her old corduroy jacket. It poked her, batted her hair with its paws to make itself comfortable, then nestled into position in her hood.

  A contented purring sound came next.

  A first-time metamorphosis could tire out anyone, Dayna decided with a smile. The only trouble was…exactly how had that transformation happened? She’d never accomplished such advanced magic before. She didn’t know if she could ever do it again.

  If she hoped to graduate from cusping-witch class, she knew she would have to try. She would have to achieve advanced magic and do a better job of controlling it, too. She was lucky her tiger familiar hadn’t hurt anyone—including her.

  The realization was sobering. With only two weeks left of cusping-witch classes, she would have to work harder than ever. Fortunately, Dayna had an ace up her sleeve: She had T.J. on her side to help tutor her. If he couldn’t explain how she’d morphed her familiar tonight, no one could.

  The most startling event of Dayna’s cusping-witch classes didn’t happen that night. It didn’t even happen the following night. Instead, it happened on the third day of the third week of night school, when she was least prepared and most surprised.

  She’d spent the preceding weeks in a haze of magical study, magical practice, and nearly nonstop sexual marathons with T.J. When Dayna wasn’t casting remedial spells, she was lying beneath her bonded tracer, dreamy eyed and gasping for breath. When she wasn’t getting to know her kitten familiar, sneaking past the concealment charm on Deuce’s apartment to visit the library, or cramming for a magic test with Camille, she was learning about how various Patayan erogenous zones interacted with warlock seduction skills. When she wasn’t attending class, she was jumping T.J.—in the shower, on the kitchen table, outside on the patio beneath the bougainvillea bracts and brilliant sunshine—and indulging in her witchiest instincts. When she wasn’t focusing on learning to control her cusping magic, she was giving herself wholeheartedly to T.J. and the bond they shared.

  And she loved it. She loved learning, loved feeling that she was improving, loved giving to someone outside herself. She loved seeing T.J. at the end of the day when they reunited at Deuce’s protected apartment. She loved stepping into her tracer’s burly arms and resting her head against the special nook on his shoulder that she’d claimed for herself. She loved talking with him, loved being with him, loved…him.

  For the first time, Dayna began entertaining the idea of staying in Covenhaven…even after her classes were finished.

  Beneath T.J.’s tutelage, her magic bloomed, too—even as his, her tracer complained, mysteriously declined. Dayna d
idn’t see the problem. If what she’d witnessed from him was a diminished form of magic, he was even stronger than she’d suspected.

  “You’re the strong one,” T.J. insisted after the incident with her kitten-turned-tiger familiar. “Unpixilated magic is a matter of legend. And you did it. Try to remember how.”

  “I honestly don’t know. I thought you would know.”

  He shook his head. “Not about this.”

  “Maybe you only imagined that you didn’t see the pixilation,” Dayna argued, unable to believe that her magic had been even more advanced than she’d guessed. “It can’t be easy pretending to be an asshat like Professor Reynolds. You were stressed out, and your imagination ran away with you.”

  “I know what I saw.”

  “Then maybe it was a reverse magic pattern that you saw. You know, like the patterns that humans see in drifting clouds, a tiled floor, an abstract mural. They think they’re creating patterns with their minds, but they’re really seeing remnants of the items those molecules have been magiked into in the past.”

  “It wasn’t that.” T.J. growled and pulled her close for a kiss. “But I’m happy you’re learning your magic so thoroughly.”

  After that, he continued to help train her, but despite her progress, it felt to Dayna as though she was never good enough. She improved. She mastered new spells. Most thrillingly, she actually made one of her Magic Marker weapons shoot tiny bullets. But time and again she caught T.J. watching her with disillusioned eyes. No matter how hard they worked, her magic never attained the levels it did in cusping-witch class.

  T.J. was baffled by it.

  “Don’t worry,” she told him. “I’m the queen of flukes.”

  “You did it once. You can do it again.”

  “Let it go, T.J. It’s not as though I want to be magical.”

  He’d given her the same appalled look that the IAB agents at the bureau had done when she’d asked to be rid of her magic altogether. After that, they’d quit discussing the matter.

  Night after night, her experience in cusping-witch class was similar. She achieved flashes of proficiency, but Dayna couldn’t help feeling they were coincidences, brought on more by desperation than by any real witchy talent. Crushingly, T.J. seemed to agree with her analysis. By the time the final week of her IAB-mandated training arrived, she felt as unprepared as ever for the upcoming graduation and licensing test.

  Morosely, Dayna loaded her backpack after class, trying to psych herself up for the grueling week ahead. Witches chatted all around her, confident and friendly. As usual, they appeared unbothered by the fact that there were still so many charms to learn, enchantments to cast, and transmogrifications to master.

  That’s when it happened. Francesca Woodberry, flanked by Lily and Sumner, sauntered up to Dayna’s desk. Startled, Dayna stared at them. The appearance of Covenhaven’s ultra-popular trio could not bode well for her. Unhappily reminded of how little progress she’d made toward being accepted as a witch, Dayna gave her final textbook a violent shove into her backpack.

  She shouldered the unwieldy bundle. “Excuse me.”

  “Wow, that looks heavy.” Francesca tsk-tsked, a smile on her face. “Lily, would you grab that for Dayna, please?”

  “No thanks.” Mulishly, Dayna slapped both hands on her backpack. Despite her grasp, the padded nylon straps peeled away from her shoulder. Wrenched by Lily’s vixen magic, the whole thing sailed into the other witch’s arms. “Hey! That’s mine.”

  “Thanks.” Obviously pleased by Lily’s compliance, Francesca turned to Sumner. She gestured elegantly toward Dayna’s desk. “Sumner, would you please get Dayna’s pet carrier?”

  Unhappily, the curvaceous witch eyed the magically mended pet carrier. Inside, Dayna’s kitten familiar meowed.

  Sumner blanched.

  “No! Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.” Dayna tried to snatch up her pet carrier. Sumner got there first. She levitated the carrier into her grasp, then held it at arm’s length with an almost comical expression of dismay. Deprived of her belongings, Dayna confronted Francesca. “Look, this is about to get real ugly, real fast. Tell them to give me my things back.”

  “Ugly? I don’t think that’s going to happen…this time.”

  Reminded of her backfiring ugliness hex, Dayna felt herself flush. She put her hands on her hips. “Look, it’s obvious we don’t get along. So why don’t you just leave me alone?”

  A few of their classmates lingered at their desks, watching with overt curiosity. From the front of the room, T.J.—disguised as Professor Reynolds—observed them through narrowed, wary eyes.

  Francesca chuckled. “I can’t do that, Dayna.”

  “Why the hell not? Just point your feet toward the door and start moving.” With a mocking tilt of her head, Dayna nodded in that direction. “Sumner can give you pointers on technique.”

  The other witch gave her an icy glare.

  “Mmm, I’d rather not.” As though considering the idea, Francesca pursed her movie-star lips. “So I’m not going to.”

  She began walking toward the hall, gesturing for Dayna to join her. With an exasperated sigh, Dayna did. Sumner and Lily followed, dutifully schlepping Dayna’s belongings. They passed another Hallowe’en Festival banner. Francesca smiled at her.

  “I’ve been watching you in class these past few weeks,” she said. “I think you’re…special, Dayna. Very special.”

  Dayna scoffed. “You’re special, too,” she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Can I have my stuff back now? As much fun as this little strolling quartet routine has been, I’d rather be—” She froze as something occurred to her. “Hey. You got my name right. You just called me Dayna.”

  “Of course I did. I’ve just decided—you’re one of us now.”

  One of us. Suspiciously, Dayna stared at Francesca’s guileless profile. The other witch’s words reverberated in her head, impossible to ignore or resist: You’re one of us now.

  Dayna had longed to hear those words her whole life. And now here they were, heralded by the star treatment from Sumner and Lily—however resentfully given—and officially made public by Francesca herself. At long last, she was in.

  Against all her better judgment, Dayna couldn’t help preening. Still feeling naked without her trusty backpack, she cocked her head. “What did you have in mind, Francesca?”

  “We’re having a little girls’ spa day at Janus tomorrow afternoon to get ready for graduation.” With a sense of warmth and kindliness that probably owed itself to a witchy charm, Francesca smiled at her. “I would love for you to join us.”

  There was only one thing to say. “Great. I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Pulling her hybrid subcompact into the curved entryway of the Janus Resort and Spa, Camille gave Dayna a dubious look.

  “You’re crazy for doing this, you know.” Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Francesca has always been snooty to both of us. What makes you think she’s changed?”

  “She invited me here.”

  “So? That’s it?” Anxiously, Camille scanned the resort’s driveway. At the nearby valet stand, three uniformed—and male-modelesque—Janus employees jockeyed to reach their car first. “She invited you? You’ve never been that gullible, Dayna.”

  “Maybe I’ve changed—finally. Maybe I’ve grown into my witchiness.” Dayna shrugged, unwilling to have her day spoiled by doubts. Francesca had chosen her. That was good enough. “Isn’t this what you wanted? What everyone wanted? For me to grow into my magic? To change into the right kind of witch?”

  Her friend sighed. “This is the kind of change that can hurt you. Don’t you know that? This must be a trick.”

  “A trick?” Dayna laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day when Camille Levy sounded as cynical as bitchy Lily Abbot.”

  “It’s so fancy here.” Worriedly, Camille peered through the windshield at Janus’s elaborate courtyard fountain, lavish landscaping, and well-dr
essed guests of the witchfolk and human variety. “We don’t belong here. I feel like an impostor!”

  “We’re every bit as good as Francesca and Lily and Sumner and everyone else.” As the Janus valets arrived at their car, one at each door, Dayna squeezed her friend’s hand reassuringly. “Besides, I’m not about to enter Covenhaven’s inner circle without you. Aren’t you glad I brought you? This might be fun.”

  The valets opened their doors. A cool autumn breeze swept inside the car, bringing with it an unidentifiable but wonderful fragrance. Even the air smelled better at Francesca’s resort.

  Dayna felt pampered already. That sensation only grew as a valet helped her onto the walkway, then ushered her beneath the porte cochere. Camille, similarly escorted, joined her there.

  “That’s another thing.” Self-consciously, her friend watched the valet drive away with her tiny car. “I doubt you were supposed to bring me with you. Francesca will take one look at me and call security. I’ll be thrown out on my ear.”

  “She wouldn’t dare.” Brimming with anticipation, Dayna looked around. Tourists pattered to and fro, some carrying shopping bags from Sumner’s gift shop, others toting bakery boxes from Lily’s patisserie, and still others dressed in swimsuits. She recognized several cusping witches from class, too. Uniformed Janus employees moved among them like members of a semi-invisible but dignified army. “If you leave, I leave.”

  Camille’s uneasy gaze met hers. “Is that a promise?”

  “Absolutely. Are you kidding me?” One glance at Camille told Dayna this was no laughing matter. She gave her friend a warm smile. “Best friends stick together no matter what—and you’ll always be my best friend. You know that, right?”

  “Well…Once you’ve spent more time around Francesca, you might change your mind. I’m just a regular witch, with no special abilities or anything. I can’t even afford cashmere.”

  “Hey. Stop right there. You’re amazing! I’m so proud of everything you’ve done with your job and your husband and kids. Even Spencer!” At her mention of her Corgi, Camille laughed. “I might be your long-distance friend, but I’m still your friend.” Dayna lowered her eyebrows with mock ferocity. “Got it?”