Some Basic Witch

by Abby Knox

  She stood looking at her odd creation, then up at the tree, then back at the ground.

  “Need a hand?”

  Morgan spun around and her heart nearly pounded right out of her chest.

  “Adam!”

  She ran toward him and he grabbed her up in a bear hug. “Thanks for last night on the swing,” he said into her ear, kissing her jawline as she squeezed him tight. “I love you.”

  Her heart thumped and the butterflies had a party in her tummy. So he remembered. This was all real and he was really there. The truth had been revealed. Their fates were sealed and she was all in. After their illicit encounter in his car last night, Morgan had gone home to do another incantation to give him something to look forward to next time they met. But the vision had done way more than that. It had revealed everything. Their history and their destiny. They had been together throughout time and now everything made sense.

  She kissed his lips gently at first, but Adam went for it and pretty soon they were full-on making out in front of all the worker bees buzzing around setting up for the feast.

  “Get a room!” somebody shouted.

  “Go to the She Shed!” said another.

  Adam put her down and kissed her on the forehead, wondering what the hell a She Shed was. He put the thought out of his head and got busy helping. He and Morgan looked over her chandelier and talked about how he could hang the monstrosity. He said he would think about how to handle it. Meanwhile, he saw that some of the other Sisters could use help with assembling the dance floor in another area of the meadow.

  Morgan said that was fine and told him she needed to go check on the desserts. She could feel Adam watch her walk away. She blushed and wished she had worn something a little more skimpy, despite the cool gray morning.

  In the museum kitchen, she examined the chocolate fountain, the pumpkin cake pops, apple tarts and pear crumbles. Everything looked in order and beautiful. It had better be, for $50 a plate. They were going to have a full house, and the table would be packed with city leaders expecting an authentic farm-to-table dinner. The city had never handed over this much cash to the living history museum, so the Sisters were going to make it count. She secretly hoped it would be so successful, they might collaborate every year. They might even be able to generate enough revenue to do things beyond repair the museum buildings. Maybe they could add on in the future. Morgan went outside and inspected the grounds. There would be space to replicate a small colonial courtroom with acoustics, so they wouldn’t have to reenact the witch trials out in the open. Sure, this story was not as well known as Salem, but the lessons were the same. Maybe they could branch out and share actors and resources with Ashford and Woodlawn. Their covens were bigger than Birchdale’s, and had a lot more money.

  Morgan made her way back to the meadow to see how Adam was doing with her chandelier. But he wasn’t there. Her chandelier was in the same spot as it was before, on the ground next to the banquet table. There was no evidence that he had even started working on it. The dance floor was all finished. Maybe he went to go look for supplies. Yes, that had to be it.

  She got busy sprucing for the next couple of hours, trusting that Adam was a capable fellow and he would handle it.

  When all the preparations were as ready as they could be, she took a break for lunch. She wasn’t really hungry but definitely was in the mood for some tasty Adam lips.

  Back at the meadow again, her chandelier still lay in the same place.

  Fern was busy setting the places at the banquet table. “Fern, have you seen Adam?”

  Fern smirked as she adjusted the silver forks, spoons and knives. “No, haven’t seen lover boy in a while. Maybe he’s waiting for you at your house.”

  That was a juicy thought, but kind of annoying that he hadn’t finished the project he said he would. “Well, I’ve been all over the property and I can’t find him anywhere. And he still didn’t hang my chandelier.”

  “Is that what that is? I thought it was something a giant owl threw up.”

  Morgan shook her head. “Well, once it’s hung up and lit, it will make sense. You’ll see, my readers will love it.”

  Fern laughed. “They probably will. Not that I’ve ever understood your readers.”

  Morgan brushed off this comment and marched down to her house to eat some lunch. Now that she was annoyed at two people, she needed to eat some feelings.

  She opened her pantry and thought about how upset she was. Was she one sleeve or two sleeves upset with Adam? He had outright abandoned her with no explanation. This was a two-sleever. She took out her package of thin mints and ate two sleeves. Then she went for the pumpkin spice Oreos and ate the whole bag. Then she got into the liquor cabinet, and stopped herself. Wait a minute. He’s a cop. Maybe he got called in to work. That’s it! And you are a dummy for not having a cell phone, so no wonder he disappeared with no word.

  Goddess, you’re an idiot, Morgan Hibbins. Get ahold of yourself.

  Relieved, she decided to take a nap before getting ready for tonight. It was going to be a long, long night without Adam by her side. But she would make the best of it.

  18

  Adam

  This crazy chandelier needed extra rope. That was an easy fix. Adam judged he could hang it between two trees pretty easily if Morgan had more supplies. He would also need an extension cord for the lights. Preferably a green or black one, to sort of hide it. White extension cords taped along the tree branches might look a little hillbilly.

  He had seen a work shed near Morgan’s house yesterday when he was spying on her. Maybe she would have more supplies in there. He hoped it was unlocked.

  When he arrived, of course it was unlocked. Lucky for him, but not the best idea in general. He creaked open the door and made a mental note to have a talk with her about locking up her property. Especially now that Hank Snow was out of jail and back on the streets, and evidently into some super-weird demon shit or something like that. Inside the shed, he did not see any extension cords or extra rope.

  What he did see was a summoning circle, complete with different colored candles. Knives. A work table with vials of liquid. Blood? Maybe. He walked over to the center of the room and saw a folded piece of parchment on the floor. He picked it up and read the words. His stomach wrenched. What the fuck, Morgan? He looked around at the candles. Sure enough, one of them was carved. He saw the word “eros.”

  So she had manipulated the entire thing.

  Yes, of course, he had always known the craft was real. He had shut down that part of his brain, but now the anger bubbling up in his stomach unlocked the childhood memory.

  When he was eight years old, his only friend from school had come over to hang out and play video games but had stumbled into Adam’s mom’s special room where she did her “chanting,” as she called it. There were little statues and dried herbs everywhere. Candles. A salt circle. Vials of potions marked “fertility,” “luck,” and whatnot.

  The next day at school, his so-called friend told everyone that Adam’s mom sacrificed cats and worshiped Satan. He even said that Adam’s mom had killed his dad, who was never around.

  That had been the end of Adam’s tolerance of his mother’s shenanigans. He denounced it and all things spiritual as fairy tales meant to manipulate people into acting right or giving them a false sense of hope.

  But now, as a grown-ass man, he had been manipulated into falling in love with a woman. Not just any woman, a woman who was paid to pretend to be a witch, but who was, in fact, a real witch. With potions, spells and incantations.

  Fuck. This.

  19

  Morgan

  As the night wore on, Morgan did her best to put on a good face for the city leaders. But without Adam there and no word from him, it was hard.

  The dinner went off without a hitch. Except there was no chandelier. There was no time to get it ready, so she’d chucked it out on in the burn pile with the rest of the museum’s yard trash. Maybe they could use it for
kindling for the bonfire later.

  After the dinner was completed and the banquet table cleaned up and hauled away, the grounds were open to the public. Despite the fact that there were no parking lots on the property, and everyone had to park along the highway and walk the rest of the way, there was quite a crowd. Still, no Adam. The band struck up some dance music and the bar was open, accepting tips to be donated to the museum. Morgan went and got herself a tequila and lime juice. Why not get hammered and try not to think about being alone? Tonight of all nights, the most auspicious Samhain she could remember.

  Down in the meadow where the bonfire was beginning to take shape, some of the Sisters were teaching divination games. Fern was showing the children how to carve names into hazelnuts. Keeping them at a safe distance, she showed them that by naming the nuts and placing them near the fire, they could determine if two people were a match. If they stayed together near the fire, it was a match. If one of the nuts jumped because of the heat, it was not a match. The children seemed delighted with the idea. When Fern saw Morgan walking by with her drink, she called out. “Perfect timing! Hey, kids, who wants to see if Ms. Morgan’s hazelnut and Detective Corey’s hazelnut are a match?”

  She kept on walking but heard the childlike chorus of “I do! I do!”

  Morgan could not bear any of this. But she did her best to smile and tend to all the visitors. She spent the next few hours drinking and answering loads of questions about area history and about the museum. She handed out a million leaflets to people who wanted to book tour groups. She was quite erudite and entertaining, even if she did say so herself.

  It was almost time for the ceremonial lighting of the torches. This was the point where, at the moment of the eclipse, everyone who wanted a torch would light one from the bonfire and take it home as a symbol of community and friendship. Of course, in this modern age, with people driving home from the ceremony in their cars, this was an utterly preposterous idea. So, she expected the crowd would quickly put out their torches and be on their way home with their trinkets after this.

  She had so hoped to witness this with Adam. But he was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t bear it.

  She went home and called the number on his card. No answer. Maybe it was time for a little chant in the She Shed to see if she could locate him.

  When she arrived, the door to the shed was ajar. That wasn’t good. Inside, she noticed immediately that things had been messed with. The note at the center of the circle was gone. The eros candle was on the floor.

  With a rising panic in her throat she realized what had happened to Adam. He had seen this room. He knew what these things meant. He had not been called to work. He had fled.

  Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck.

  She sat on the floor and began lighting the candles, but then realized all of her conjuring had caused this mess in the first place. She blew out the candles and crumpled to the floor, crying. She was drunk, sure, but she was also clear-headed enough to know exactly what she had done.

  How could she fix this? She may have started this with her witchcraft, but he was not under a spell. She sat up. Wiped her tears. Told herself, this man is your mate. You are meant to be together. You get up. You go find him. You figure it out. You will get through this. The end.

  She sprinted to the door and opened it, ready to roll. But she stopped short and sobered up in a goddam hurry because at her door was the most mother-loving terrifying sight she had ever seen in this life. Oh, she had seen this plenty of times before. It was hazy, but the memories of trauma from her former lives were right there, staring her in the face.

  It was literally an angry mob of the city leaders and dozens and dozens of others. Children and old people. Every single one of the Normals that she knew was standing at her door. With torches. And pitchforks.

  What was happening? Was this a joke? Was this some kind of surprise reenactment of events leading up to the historic witch trials?

  She looked at their faces, and it only took a second to realize these people were not in their right mind. Something had happened to them.

  White-hot fear snapped her into fight mode. She lifted her wand against them and fired a binding spell. But it didn’t work. She fired again and looked closely. The magic spell bounced away, like there was a force field around them. There was magic working against her. These people were under some spell and someone was controlling them with dark forces. And there were too many of them to fight.

  Unable to fight, she fled. Slamming the door in their faces, she beat feet to the back window and crawled through. Using her wand she made herself fly across the chicken coop, to the garage where she kept her car. She wished she could fly over the grounds to find her Sisters, but the spell was only good for seven seconds and sapped her energy. She was well aware she was too drunk to drive, but fuck it. She had to get help. There had to be a hundred of them out there.

  She put her car in gear and peeled out, brights on, and aimed the car for the angry mob. Just as she couldn’t fight their magic with her magic, unless they themselves were casting spells, their magic could not stand against a very not-magic thousand pounds of rolling steel. She floored it and was about to crash right into the crowd, but then she saw them. The kids from last night. They had crazy eyes just like their parents. But they were, in fact, kids. They were not in their right mind. In fact, none of these people were in their right mind. She backed up the car and headed for the highway. Chances were the angry mob had already taken her Sisters prisoner, as she had been the only one missing at the bonfire ceremony.

  The bonfire ceremony. That’s when it clicked. The blood moon. The eclipse. Something about the lifting of the veil between the worlds had caused people to turn against the witches, and now they were rounding them up.

  Morgan sped down the highway in her Volvo and headed for town. Fuck me for not carrying a phone, she thought.

  However, as she drove down the hill, she saw a line of police cars, fire trucks and ambulances headed back up the hill, in the direction of the museum grounds.

  Thank Goddess. Someone called for help. But in the line of emergency vehicles, she didn’t see Adam’s car anywhere.

  She needed to find him. He would know what to do.

  20

  Adam

  He had put away a third of a bottle of Scotch and was enjoying some Monday Night Football highlights when Morgan burst through his door shortly after midnight.

  “Great. Here’s the last person I wanted to see.”

  “Adam.” She could only mouth the word.

  Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

  The detective ran to her side and looked her over.

  She was in a blind panic and looked as if she couldn’t breathe. He pulled her to his reclining chair and sat her down.

  He sat with her and talked her through it. “Slow down. Breathe with me. In and out. Pretend you’re blowing off dandelion fluff.”

  She shook her head, letting him know this was not a laughing matter. Eventually her breath steadied to match his pace.

  “Do I need to get you to a doctor?”

  Morgan shook her head. Finally, she was able to speak. “Where have you been? There’s chaos up at the museum. Everybody’s lost their minds. Angry mob! Torches! Pitchforks! We have to help!”

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re talking crazy. What is going on?”

  “Every emergency worker is headed up to the museum grounds right this second. Why are you still here?” she asked.

  He was dumbfounded. He had been listening to his scanner all evening. There had been no calls. Actually, that was weird. No calls at all. Not a single one. They must have left with no sirens or lights on, because he hadn’t heard anything outside.

  His mind raced. This was extremely bad. Then he remembered something his mom had warned him about. Delayed reaction. The cider. “They aren’t going up there to help the Sisters.”

  “What? What are you thinking?”

  “There haven’t be
en any emergency calls at all tonight. My mom told me to watch out for weird shit at midnight tonight. But I’ve been keeping an eye on the Church of the Messenger and nothing’s been happening, except I saw Snow praying or something to an idol last night.”

  “What! And you didn’t tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t think any of that shit was real, Morgan!”

  “What else did your mom tell you?”

  “She said when non-magic people use magic or potions, there could be a delayed reaction. It must be the cider from the Church last night. Everyone drank some except for me and the Sisters.”

  “Holy balls on fire. Who is your mother?”

  “Magda Corey. From Woodlawn.”

  “What the fuck, Adam!”

  “You know her?”

  “LITERALLY EVERY WITCH IN NEW ENGLAND KNOWS HER! What is wrong with you?”

  “To repeat: I never believed this shit was real until I stumbled into your Her Shed or whatever. And thanks, by the way, for fucking with my mind and making me fall for you. That was a nice trick.”

  “It’s called a She Shed, dummy. And I think there are some bigger things to worry about at this point, don’t you think? Such as how are we going to stop the angry mob? Save my Sisters? Save the whole entire fucking town?”

  Adam thought for a moment. He listened to Morgan’s description of everything that was happening and figured out what he needed to do.

  Neither of them could safely drive, but on the other hand, there were no people left in town to be hit by them. They had no choice.

  The two of them drove to the police station, cleaned out the entire armory, and headed back to the highway and up the hill toward the biggest shit show of their lifetime. Or at least, their current lifetime.

  21