Eva Evergreen, Semi-Magical Witch

by Julie Abe

  “Ah, don’t worry. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Somehow, Ami’s gentleness hurt more than if she had yelled like Trixie or Trina. I wilted as she handed me a towel.

  A man stepped up to Ami’s counter. “Er, is now a bad time? I’d like a bouquet of dusklight flowers.”

  “Well—stay as long as you need,” Ami said to me. “Let me know if you want more tea.” I nodded faintly as she headed to her counter.

  From outside, I could hear the whispers of the crowd. One of the sailors snorted. “I’ve never heard of a witch or wizard that’s run out of magic.” A few people nodded along with him. Beads of sweat tickled my neck.

  Even if they didn’t realize it, there were limits for all witches and wizards. That’s why there were ranks within the Council, with higher levels able to go on more difficult quests. Still, I’d never heard of another witch or wizard who had fainted from overusing their magic.

  There was something else I had in mind, but it wasn’t quite a charm or a spell. I opened up my knapsack, and my hands slid over my jars of odds and ends, searching for anything that would help. Parchment, no. Sand, no. Candle wax? That might plug up some of the holes.

  “Ami, do you mind a semi-magical fix?” My heart felt slightly sore at the words.

  “Not at all,” Ami called back.

  Instead of casting a charm, I molded the wax onto the pipes. Warming up my hands, I rolled the wax into thin layers and then pressed them onto the holes. My arms burned as I worked, and the crowd buzzed, wondering what I was doing.

  Their whispers sank deep into my heart, burning with every word.

  Such a strange thing for a witch to try.

  That isn’t magic, is it?

  It wasn’t pure magic. But semi-magical repairs were the best I could do.

  I melded the last wax sheet into one of the corner pipes. “Just about done.”

  Raising my wand, my voice cracked with nervousness. “Wax hold water true, together through and through.” The wax sheets flashed with a coppery light, melding into the pipes, and a ripple of surprise went through the crowd.

  Glancing toward the onlookers, I spoke louder. “I’ll test it out now.”

  Twisting the small metal wheel, I turned it eagerly. Instead of starting with a trickle, the sprinkler heads roared as water spouted out.

  “Eep!” I yelped, tottering backward. The pressure was likely too high after weeks—if not months or years—of broken holes.

  Ami rushed inside. The sprinklers rained down on her, and she backed up, out of the shop. “Oh! Eva, are you all right?”

  “Yes!” Even though it felt more like a no. I had to fix this. I summoned up my magic. “Sprinkle the flowers, lighten your powers!”

  The tip of my wand flashed, and the water lessened, turning into a gentle mist. The plants seemed brighter in the spray, as the leaves drank in moisture. I stared up, examining the pipes and sprinkler heads. They were working.

  “Oh, this is wonderful, Eva!” Ami clasped her hands with delight. “I haven’t seen it like this in years!”

  I cranked the knob shut, and the mist faded away. A fragile smile crept over my lips, like a delicate flower pushing up through early-spring frost, as the crowd moved closer, peeking in at the shop with surprise.

  “Oh, curses.” I clapped my hand over my mouth.

  “What’s the matter?”

  I gestured faintly at her dress, which was now splotched with water.

  Ami waved her hand at me with a gentle smile. “It’s all right. This happens all the time in a florist’s shop, and a little water never hurt anyone.” She glanced out toward the sea with a sad smile. “It’s when there’s a lot of water that it’s trouble.”

  I swallowed as my hat dripped onto my face. A shudder ran down my cold, wet skin at the thought of the Culling. “Well,” I said, waving my hand at the pipes faintly. “It’s fixed.”

  “See, when I heard about you, I knew you’d do good for our town.” Ami smiled. “Thank you, Eva.”

  I turned to look at the bright green plants and the vibrant flowers all around. Even if I hadn’t fixed it with pure magic, maybe I could do something good. Perhaps—just maybe, I could figure out a way to protect Auteri from the Culling.

  That night, by the light of the merrily flickering flamefox jar, I cracked open Potions of Possibilities for the first time. Like spells, the instructions provided vague suggestions instead of an exact recipe.

  A waterproofing elixir would help the whole town prepare in case of hail, snow, or floods, being so close to the water as it was. If I was going to pass my quest, I needed to help Auteri withstand the unpredictable rage of the Culling. Like Trixie had recommended—before she’d banned me from her shop. And it’d be useful for Ami, too.

  HOW TO MAKE A WATERPROOFING POTION: Use warm things, think warm thoughts, mix together, and hope for a drought.

  WARM THINGS INCLUDE BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO: flickering candles, campfires, and snug socks.

  I shook my head at the so-called instructions. I stirred the ingredients the tome suggested—shavings of wax candles, burnt wood, and bits of wool—in my frying pan with my wand. “Stay dry and warm, let it stay together.…”

  The frying pan flashed a strange green-brown color, and I jumped back. The charm hadn’t rhymed at all, and I was pretty sure the potion wasn’t supposed to turn into a burnt brown sludge with smoke pouring out of the pan.

  Peering in suspiciously, I caught the faint scent of chimney smoke. It didn’t look explosive, at least. I coated slivers of parchment in the smoking mixture and dunked them into water.

  The paper was soaked.

  Something wet nudged my ankle. Ember gazed up with one of the books I’d summoned, Magical Adventures, in his mouth. “Oh, thank you for bringing that over,” I said absentmindedly. “Wait… why do you have that?”

  Ember deposited it at my feet.

  “I was not looking for more paper,” I cried, holding up the yellow cover. “Especially not just the cover!” The rest of the book lay in the corner, the broken spine peeling away from the thin pages.

  He wagged his tail, eyes begging for mackerel as a reward.

  “None for you, troublemaker!” I groaned and threw myself on my bed, pressing my face into my pillow. Wrapping myself in my thin sheet, I swore that tomorrow would go better.

  CHAPTER 18

  SWEETER THAN SUGAR

  A gurgle rumbled loudly, and I rubbed my stomach. It was lunchtime, but I’d forgotten to bring Father’s latest package from the cottage.

  “Hungry?”

  I jumped. A woman leaned on the counter. She had a long face with a wolfish grin, and her hair was tied back into two braids, reddish-black curls sneaking out. In her hand, she dangled a paper bag. The mouthwatering scent of freshly baked bread wafted toward me. I swallowed.

  “I’m Yuri, the shop manager from next door.” She hooked her thumb toward Seafoam Sweets. “I’ve been meaning to introduce myself.”

  I shook her hand. “I’m Eva, the owner of this, um, semi-magical repair shop.”

  “So it’s true?” she asked. “You’re really a witch?”

  I nodded. “I’m on my quest to become a Novice Witch.”

  The woman grinned. “Well, Edmund sent me over to ask. He didn’t believe that a witch had come to Auteri, even with your hat and all the stories. I guess I win!” She spun around and laughed—a face peeked around the corner.

  Edmund had dark, sun-warmed skin and tightly curled hair mostly covered by his chef’s hat. Although he wasn’t plump, his broad shoulders blocked the sun from my face, and he smiled shyly at me.

  “So there are two of you in the shop?”

  “Four of us—Mister Rydern, he’s the owner, and his son. Mister Rydern’s the most talented artist in the realm. He makes the sugar sculptures in our window displays.” Yuri peeked over her shoulder. “Him.”

  It was the man I had bumped into on one of my first days in Auteri. He stared out at the water as if he was fro
zen in time. The dockworkers hefting crates over their shoulders always steered clear of him, as if he was a familiar statue they knew to skirt around.

  “What is he looking at?” I asked.

  “His wife was a captain,” Yuri said softly. “A few years ago, she sailed out on her ship, the Maiden of Auteri, right before the fourth Culling hit. None of us expected the earthquake. Nor the tsunami in its aftermath. Worst of all, none of us expected—”

  A familiar voice cut in from behind them, speaking quietly but with a heaviness that hung from each word. “That my mother would disappear without a trace.”

  They froze.

  I peered around Edmund and saw Davy. His hands curled into trembling fists as he met my gaze and continued, “It’s almost as if she was magicked away, as if she never existed.”

  Yuri’s face burned red.

  And, finally, I understood why the man’s eyes stayed glued to the waters for something he’d never find. Because hope was a cruel sorcery of its own; the power of hope was always tainted with the sharp sorrow of unfulfillment.

  Davy stepped next to Yuri and Edmund and leaned on the counter. His smile was forced. I remembered the way Kyo had carefully asked about Davy’s father. And how Charlotte had spoken with a strange fierceness about the sea taking away lives. It’d been about Davy’s mother.

  A bell rang through the docks, making me jump. “Boat comin’ in!”

  The workers looked up, put down their crates and barrels, and beelined toward the skiffs, heading out to pick up passengers.

  “Another ship, already?” Edmund said and shuffled back into the store, but Yuri and Davy stayed. Yuri glanced over at Davy’s father.

  “I’ll bring him in,” Davy said.

  Yuri called, “I’m sorry, Davy.”

  He stopped and turned in the middle of the walkway, the crowd milling around him. A sad smile flickered on his face. “For what, Yuri? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  Davy walked to the edge of the dock, next to Mister Rydern, and knelt down, pulling something out of his many pockets. He placed it gently into the sea and watched as it floated away.

  “What was that?” I whispered.

  “Davy folds paper flowers and offers them to the Constancia Sea every day. He says that maybe his mother will follow the trail of flowers back here.” Yuri’s forehead creased. “When Edmund and I first arrived in Auteri, the Ryderns treated us like family. And now, to see them like this…”

  For a few seconds, Davy and his father continued to stare out at the sea. Finally, Davy dragged his gaze away. “It’s time, Pa.”

  His father spoke, his voice gravelly from lack of use. “She’s a’coming, she’s a’coming.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  Davy shook his head. “No, Pa… She’s not… She’s…” His voice cracked. “Pa, it’s me.”

  Mister Rydern blinked, staring at his son. “Ah… Davy.”

  Taking his father by the arm, Davy guided him back into the shop. His father craned his head over his shoulder, eyes glued to the endless sea, until the shop’s door rang shut behind them.

  Mister Rydern’s words crawled over my skin. She’s a’coming.

  I turned to Yuri. “Is he—is he always like that?”

  “After his wife disappeared, he’s become particular about the waters. Says strange stuff no one understands about her still being alive. But when he’s away from the water, he’s more coherent, less wrapped up in his grief. It’s like the waters enchant him. Maybe… maybe it’s that the water’s all he has to remember her by.” Yuri’s voice wavered. Then she lifted up the paper bag abruptly, and her eyes pleaded for me to talk about something else. “Take these, won’t you? The bakery delivered an extra meal, and I thought it was due time to meet our new neighbor. We’ve been sorely remiss in greeting you.”

  I opened the crinkling paper and breathed in the aroma of the freshly made sandwiches, with pure white cheese cut in slivers like the moon, slices of tomatoes and bright green herbs between thick-crusted bread, dusty with flour and the crust shaped in whorls, like a seashell. On the side, two powdery ginger chews were wrapped in wax paper.

  My stomach gurgled and a smile broke out on Yuri’s face. “Sounds like they’re going to a good home. Come by for more candies, too. Those ginger chews are spicy, but my absolute favorite.”

  “Thank you, Yuri.” I waved at her before she disappeared into the store. “Come over if you need any repairs.”

  I stared out at the water, Mister Rydern’s words echoing in my ears. She’s a’coming.

  I spent the next few days properly signing up shopkeepers for the festival, without a single catastrophe. My hourglass showed that I’d already been in Auteri for two weeks; the days had passed so quickly. When I had a chance, I stopped by my counters. I’d left a sheet asking anyone to write down if they wanted me to help them, but the parchment remained empty.

  But my counter wasn’t empty. Each day, a dusklight flower waited for me, lushly fragrant, and I smiled toward the florist’s shop in the town square, murmuring under my breath, “Thank you, Ami.”

  Even though I hadn’t gotten jobs lined up… those I’d helped did appreciate my work.

  Ember and I plopped onto the bench just as Rin stopped by with a brown paper bag, dropping it onto the counter. “Morning, Eva. What’ve you been up to?”

  “I got a repair job from Ami,” I said, tucking the fragrant dusklight blossom behind my ear. I decided to leave out the part about me blowing up Trixie’s and Trina’s stores.

  Rin’s lips split into a grin. “And how was that?”

  “Well…” I paused. “I was able to fix Ami’s copper pipes. After a few tries.” I fiddled with my wand thoughtfully, then I sat up. “Is there something I can help you with, Rin?”

  “Do you have time for a fix?”

  My heart jumped in my chest. A repair job!

  She nudged the bag of cloudberry cookie drops toward me. “That’s for you.” Then she rummaged in her uniform pocket and slid over a rose-gold compass. “And this, too. It needs a fix. It was a gift from my father just before he passed away. The needle seems to point a little more east every time I use it.”

  I picked up the rose-gold compass, examining the delicate leaflike engravings. “I’ll get this repaired.” But then I remembered what I’d done with the corn and cloudberries, and the excitement drained out of me. What if I messed up something so precious to Rin?

  “Is everything else all right?” she asked, peering at me.

  “I’ve done something terrible,” I blurted out, and explained the mess with Trixie and Trina, and how I was never, ever going to their stores again.

  Rin bit down a smile. “Kyo told me the popcorn was pretty tasty.”

  “But—but—I made their stores explode.”

  “You made Trixie and Trina talk to each other, didn’t you? And in sync, nonetheless. Back when they set up shop, they couldn’t decide whether they should stock cloudberries or corn. So instead of sharing, they split the store down the middle, and they hadn’t talked since.”

  “Davy mentioned something about that.…”

  As if he’d heard his name, Davy poked his head out of Seafoam Sweets. “Hey, Eva, could you help me with something?”

  “Me?” Me, the semi-magical witch whose charms could turn into a complete disaster, like with Trixie and Trina, or a semi-disaster, like with Ami?

  Rin stretched her arms. “Time to head back to the ship. I’m on the evening route back to Okayama. No rush on the compass. Take a look whenever you’ve got a moment.”

  But I clutched the compass in my hand and didn’t move toward the shop.

  “You helped Ami. And even if they won’t admit it, you’ve helped Trixie and Trina.” Rin leaned over, with a knowing look in her eyes, and whispered, “Go on. You’re our town witch, Eva. And even though I doubt it’ll hit us, I know you’ll figure out something to help us with the Culling, too.”

  I filled my lung
s with a deep breath, as if trying to draw in Rin’s words before they floated away on the salty breeze. I motioned for Ember to wait, and he happily curled up on the counter to bask in the sun.

  Rin waved at me as she jumped into a skiff, calling, “Good luck!”

  Squaring my shoulders, I jerkily walked to the end of the line of customers, clutching my wand in my sweaty hand. I’d never been inside, though I’d been saving my coins to buy my parents something sweet at the end of the moon.

  Yuri pulled me inside. “Oh, Davy asked you for a repair, didn’t he? No need to wait.”

  When I stepped into Seafoam Sweets, I was hit with a blast of sugary air and the excited voices of the shoppers milling around the displays. The white stone walls held shelves with big glass jars of all different shapes filled with cheerfully bright candies.

  “Here, Eva,” Yuri said, offering up a tin mug filled to the brim with a familiar tan drink. She drew a stool up to the wood counter and patted it. “Take a seat, Davy’s getting something from his room.”

  “Ooh, barley tea!” I took a sip and the chilled brew tasted like home, like picking sun-warmed tomatoes in the garden with Mother and Father and then cooling down in the shade.

  Beyond the counter, Edmund turned a clear blob on a stick, carefully cutting and twisting it.

  “Is that sugar?”

  He smiled shyly as he snipped a corner and curled it outward, forming a petal. “It’s a dusklight flower, but yes, made of sugar.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

  Yuri picked up another pair of scissors and cut a glob of clear sugar off a hunk, warmed on top of a stove, and nodded at a corner crowded by tourists. “Take a look at that.”

  I drained the tea to its last dregs and headed over to the display, but there were too many people blocking my view. Finally, a shopper moved away, clutching a jar of pale orange-red gumdrops, the warm color of an Auteri sunrise, to her chest as she breathed out, “Absolutely breathtaking.”