Familiarity Breeds Witchcraft

by Nora Lee

  She crossed the barnyard through a flock of clucking chickens scratching in the raked dirt, the birds the same yellows and browns as the leaves swirling from the trees to the ground. A couple of goats bleated at her as she passed their pen, the animals’ wide eyes glistening in the bright sunlight and the wattles on their necks wobbling as they chewed. In the back of the enclosure she saw a mama with two new kids, the babies suckling at her teats.

  Adorable, she thought. New babies are so darn cute. And I am never, ever having one of my own.

  Gemma chuckled at herself.

  She mentally added, No human babies. I might get goats later.

  But only if they promised not to eat her computer cable friends.

  The wide barn doors stood open and she stepped into the gloom, shivering in a sudden temperature drop as she waited for her vision to adapt.

  The space smelled of saddle soap, straw, and the horses stabled at the opposite end. Hay covering the hard-packed dirt floor crunched beneath her feet as she stepped further in, taking care not to trip. She remembered all the sharp farm implements stored along the walls and feared one of them having been left out of place; she gave a wry smile as the thought reminded her of a horror movie she’d watched with Fox, where the heroine hid in an old barn until law enforcement arrived to save her from the potential murderer.

  Though not in Gemma’s usual area of interest, Fox had assured her of a happy ending, instead of the gore so prominent in modern horror. She’d been happy to find that not only did the heroine live, but the savior was a female cop, not a man.

  If only they’d ended up together… Shame how even in movies, gorgeous women didn’t seem to end up with companionship from their like.

  After a few moments, Gemma found she could make out the unlit strands of clear lightbulbs hanging from the rafters. Rowan was bent over a couple baskets similar to the ones in the main house with a jar of spell ingredients in each hand. The oversized flannel shirt hiding her belly looked like something Garrett might own and Gemma smiled at the picture she presented. She’d tied back her honey blonde hair and, as usual, wore no makeup. Rowan didn’t seem to care how she looked as long as she felt comfortable and Gemma felt a momentary pang of envy as she adjusted her own outfit.

  “You should be sitting in a chair, not on the ground,” she said when Rowan didn’t acknowledge her. She crossed to join the other woman and noticed these baskets already contained a variety of the glass containers. A lot of work had been done already that day. “That can’t be comfortable—or good for you.”

  Straightening with some difficulty, Rowan rested her hands on her hips and rubbed the small of her own back with her fingers. “You sound like Nana.” She put out her hands. “Help me up?”

  “She’s been around long enough to have learned a thing or two.” Gemma crossed to grab the proffered hands and braced herself. Though not a large woman, the added baby weight made helping Rowan a little tricky, and she didn’t want to take the chance of allowing her friend to fall back onto the hard ground. “I know it gets annoying, but you should listen to her every once in a while.”

  She realized she didn’t have the same commanding presence as Nana at her young age. Gemma might be a few years older than Rowan, but they didn’t have enough of an age gap for her to serve as a mother figure, though that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to share some good advice.

  “I’m not much help these days, I’m afraid.” Sighing, Rowan brushed off the seat of her maternity jeans as she crossed to a rocking chair that must have been brought into the barn just for her. She lowered her cumbersome bulk into the deep cushions. “I’m so sick of being pregnant. This baby’s never going to make an appearance.”

  Gemma couldn’t even imagine the frustration of feeling so trapped by the lack of control over her own body. With nothing helpful to add, she only clucked in sympathy. “The others should be here pretty soon. We can wait until they show up to finish.”

  She sat on a bale of straw and pulled her tablet out of her purse. Adjusting her skirt to keep sharp stalks from tearing her stockings and scratching her legs, she toggled the device on and pulled up her e-mail. Fox had sent a message linking her to a couple new pictures. Fox looked stunning, her hands supporting her chin, a playful smile on her face for the camera.

  Warmth filled Gemma and she couldn’t help but smile back at the images. Caught up in reading the message accompanying them, she didn’t notice Rowan’s approach until the other woman spoke over her shoulder.

  Rowan reached out and took the tablet. “Is that her?”

  Gemma snatched the device back and flipped the case closed, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. For a pregnant person, Rowan moved with the quiet stealth of a cat. “Hey!”

  “Sorry. I need to go use the bathroom and just happened to catch a glance at the picture.” Rowan held her hands out in a gesture of apology. “I didn’t mean to pry into your private business or make you uncomfortable.”

  Realizing she’d overreacted yet again, Gemma got up. “Here, I’ll help you.”

  Rowan backed up and batted Gemma’s hands away. “I’m not an invalid. I think I can manage the walk to the bathroom on my own.” Her smile softened her words as she nodded toward the tablet Gemma still held. “Was that your friend? She’s really pretty.”

  Gemma grabbed her purse and stuffed the tablet inside. “You know, I think I’ll go home for now. My help isn’t needed for this part of the process. Tell Enid I’ll catch up with her later, please.” She stepped around Rowan and hurried for the door.

  “But Gemma…”

  No way would she hang around with the possibility of a grilling about Fox hanging over her head.

  Gemma had only hung out with Rowan so much lately because she didn’t pry the way the others did.

  If Rowan was taking that particular page from Nana’s book, well, then Gemma was just going to have to go back to the attic. Alone.

  With a casual wave, Gemma said, “Bye, Rowan.”

  She hurried away from the farm without going into the house again. Bronson could stay until Enid showed up. He and Keene could have some quality play time together. The lazy beast didn’t get enough exercise anyway. For all she knew, he might be overweight beneath all his fur.

  Though she could have contacted Fox on the way home, she waited until she reached the safety of her attic, dropping to the sofa and wrapping herself in a blanket against the chill breeze blowing in through the open window. She looked out over the village and chewed on her thumbnail as she thought about what to say.

  I feel weird about this, she typed. She bit her lip before sending the vague message.

  Gemma didn’t know why the situation felt so strange to her. People asked for help with spells all the time. As a solitary practitioner, Fox had no coven of her own to help boost her powers, so her asking for help from the people of Secret Hallow wasn’t unusual.

  After thinking for a few moments, Gemma added, I shouldn’t do your love spell this way. Accepting money isn’t really in the spirit of this type of magic, you know?

  When Fox didn’t answer right away, Gemma set down her phone so she wouldn’t keep checking for a response, then made the trek down the two flights of stairs in search of food.

  She snapped on the overhead light and looked around at ultra-modern appliances designed to blend into the historic style of the kitchen. No stainless steel here. The original wooden counters glowed from a recent polishing with essential oils and Gemma could almost feel a tingle of magic from them as she passed by. Not only did they cook in the kitchen, but they conjured here, as had many generations of the Ash family before them. Even the legendary Emilia had used their ancient table in her own house back in the day.

  She grabbed a brass canister filled with roasted pumpkin seeds out of the pantry. They’d need to make more before too long, the way she’d been going through them. Nerves caused her to overeat her favorite food.

  As she hurried back upstairs, she heard Fox’s specific chime. G
emma hurried up the attic flight and set her snack on the edge of her desk as she picked up and toggled on her phone.

  I understand. Makes sense, read Fox’s message. What do you want to do about it?

  Wasn’t that the question?

  At least she understood. But of course Fox understood. She had grown to become Gemma’s best online buddy for good reason.

  Gemma poured a few seeds into the palm of her hand and nibbled on them as she took time to think about her response. The snack wasn’t as appetizing as usual so she dropped the last few back into the canister. Running a hand through her long hair in frustration, she heaved a sigh, then typed, Maybe you should just take back the donation. The ComePayMe doesn’t send the money through until I end the campaign, right?

  Fox answered right away this. Donation’s gone. You can check the site.

  Gemma trusted Fox, but woke up the computer anyway in response to her friend’s request. She’d left the ComePayMe site up so she refreshed the browser and watched the graph drop back down to the ten percent funding level.

  Somehow, she didn’t feel any better.

  Thanks, Fox. She imagined the other woman might feel disappointed and wanted to reassure her. We’re still working on the spell. I’m happy to help! I’ll keep you posted.

  Thanks, babe, Fox responded. Everything okay over there?

  Of course. You good?

  You’re going to help me find the love of my life. What’s not good about that?

  A lump the size of the Elder Tree formed in Gemma’s throat and she felt the threatening sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. Why should she get so upset about helping? They were just friends. Fox was her…

  Fox was…

  “Oh, pumpkins.” Gemma held a hand to her chest.

  She’d fallen head over heels in love with Fox.

  Chapter 8

  GEMMA AWOKE IN her own bed the next morning. She’d burned candles in her room before falling asleep in an attempt to clear out the weird energies she’d generated after realizing how she felt about her online BFF. The smell of spices lingered on the air and infused the soft cotton of the pillowcase upon which she lay. She enjoyed the sweet, if unfamiliar, scent. She usually didn’t burn candles around the electronics in the attic and spent most of her time up there instead of in her room.

  She threw an arm across her eyes and imagined her computers. The night before seemed so long ago and she couldn’t remember whether she’d shut everything down before heading for bed. Not that leaving them on was a problem, really. She just worried about power surges affecting her electronic babies despite the many protective backups she’d employed.

  If something happened, she could also restore just about anything with a spell, couldn’t she?

  She thought hard for a few moments. The thought she couldn’t remember bothered her.

  No, she felt sure she’d turned everything off. The vague image of her going through her extended shutdown procedures after starting on the new fundraising channel popped into her mind.

  They’d added incentives to the existing ComeFundMe page and Fox sent out a few feelers in the direction of her readership to find out if any of them might be interested in contributing. Though this continued to be more help than Gemma felt comfortable accepting from Fox, the other woman insisted she needed to make proper repayment for the love spell somehow.

  When they finished she wished Fox as neutral a good night as possible without arousing any suspicion. Gemma didn’t want her friend thinking she was mad about something when she felt just the opposite.

  “Black cats in a path,” she whispered to herself.

  Oh, Fox.

  FeistyFox95—her sweet, helpful, beautiful online friend—could have no idea Gemma had fallen to pieces over her inconvenient feelings in the wee hours of an extra-long night. Gemma knew her love wasn’t reciprocated, not in the same way, and understood Fox needed to find someone else.

  Fox deserved to find happiness. She couldn’t be expected to spend her life with a person she considered to be no more than a friend.

  Gemma covered her face with her hands. Her chest ached with all the strong emotions plaguing her. A headache pounded at her temples and her eyes felt swollen from all the tears she’d shed during the night. She’d need to remain hidden until she regained some semblance of self-control—and until she no longer looked like she’d been in a fist fight with ghouls down at the graveyard.

  Rowan deserved an apology after the way Gemma left her at the farm the day before. Already emotional due to pregnancy hormones, she shouldn’t be made to feel as though she’d done something to upset Gemma. Although, really, Rowan had enough going on that she may already have moved past the situation. Maybe Gemma didn’t need to bring up the subject again.

  She couldn’t bear the thought of going in search of Rowan right away. Time might just take care of everything without her having to do a thing.

  Gemma wanted nothing more than to curl up on the floor under her bed with Bronson as a pillow. He’d love that since he enjoyed the space so much and she’d be hidden from the world by the bed skirt. A win-win for them both.

  As if conjured by her thoughts, she heard a quiet scratching at her door.

  Gemma thrust her feet into her slippers and tossed on her robe, pulling the fabric around her like a hug. She padded across the room and opened the door to find the oversized dog looking up at her with his warm brown eyes.

  “Hey, mister.” She leaned down to scratch his ears. “Enid up yet?”

  Enid’s faint voice came to her from the foot of the stairs. “Want breakfast? I made eggs.”

  Her stomach twisted into a knot and she felt the uncomfortable sensation of bile rising in the back of her throat.

  This wouldn’t work. Enid would take one look at Gemma and know instantly what was wrong.

  Gemma considered and discarded the idea of talking with Enid. No, she wasn’t going to unpack all those troubling romantic feelings with her sister. Even if Enid were discrete about it, words had a way of traveling around Secret Hallow. The likes of Nana Winterblossom and Iris Westerly would be pounding her door down within minutes.

  And she couldn’t discuss her problem with Fox for obvious reasons.

  She decided she’d just have to move forward on the spell. She couldn’t pine if she knew Fox were happy, could she?

  “Not right now, thanks,” Gemma called in her most neutral voice as she turned back to her room. “I’m going out.”

  “Make sure you eat before lunch! You get mopey when you’re hungry!”

  Gemma chuckled. If only Enid knew.

  ☆★☆

  A pleasing darkness hung over the ruins of the Ash Academy, even in the bright light of day. The site felt more like a quiet corner in Secret Hallow than anything menacing or neglected. The darkness was that of a drizzly, foggy day rather than actual gloom—the kind of day where one might want to cuddle up with Bronson and a hot cup of soup while listening to music.

  Gemma stepped into the shade of the front of the school, her skin tingling in a pleasant way as she passed through the veil of spells protecting the location. It was like being embraced in greeting by Emilia Ash herself. She immediately felt cloaked in warmth and love.

  “Hello to you, too,” she murmured affectionately.

  The same protective magic that prevented the coven from rebuilding the school meant that it was a great place to cast spells—as long as those spells weren’t meant to touch the building itself. Emilia Ash had known what she was about when she put wards in place to protect untrained students from hurting anyone.

  Her ancestor’s wards meant that Gemma couldn’t cast a spell out into the world, but it was a nice spot to test components before joining them into a whole. She wouldn’t be able to hurt herself or anyone else.

  The only risk was that the ramshackle ruins might collapse on her.

  But hey, what was a little magic without some thrill of danger?

  Most people used the front entr
yway for casting experimental magic exactly because of Emilia’s wards. The space wasn’t really a room anymore since almost every wall crumbled away long ago. Grass had begun growing up through the remnants of the floor long before Gemma’s birth. Worn areas showed where people worked now and then; a noticeable circle left behind from numerous mini coven gatherings and solitary boundary castings. Gemma could almost taste the lingering leftover magic.

  She stepped into the front entry and found she wasn’t alone.

  Gemma’s face heated instantly. She hadn’t expected anyone to be here and had just stumbled upon three of others: Orianna Westerly, her young daughter Fern, and Caedmon McFarland. Gemma still didn’t know enough about the man to make a decision about him, but Fern seemed comfortable in his presence, which seemed a good start.

  Orianna and Caedmon, a warlock who had moved to town at about the same time as Garrett, were an item these days. They were very private in their relationship, but that didn’t matter to the Secret Hallow coven.

  It was their fault as much as Rowan’s that the matchmaking vibe was humming in the air above Secret Hallow. Gemma didn’t hold it against them, though. They deserved happiness as much as anyone else.

  Orianna wiped her hands clean and motioned to the spot on the floor next to her. “Enid said you might come here when I texted her earlier. Is there a reason you’re not answering your phone?”

  “Hello everyone.” Gemma spoke in a quieter voice than she’d intended, shy from Caedmon’s unfamiliar presence. “Hi, Fern.”

  Fern smiled. “Gemma!”

  The little girl jumped to her feet and hurtled toward her. Gemma opened her arms for a hug, but she shot right past Gemma’s knees, toward the grassy space where the coven had last tried to reassemble the school. The front lawn looked to be in as good a shape as ever in the shadows of the intact buildings looming over either side of the ruin.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.” Caedmon nodded as he passed by. “Good to see you, Gemma.”