Witch Ever After: A Sweet & Quirky Paranormal Romance

by Kallie Khan

  “You. A talented witch from a respectable family who’s actually talented, and on top of that, smart, pretty, ambitious—”

  She laughed. “You can stop plying me with compliments. I’m not mad at you anymore.”

  He snorted and shook his head. “Did I mention modest? Self-deprecating? Funny?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “So, because you are all of those things, and I’m looking for all of those things, it’s only natural you’re not interested in me,” he said, and although his tone was matter-of-fact with a touch of archness, he had a small, understanding smile on his face.

  She felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “It—it’s not that I’m not interested, but...” She trailed off, thinking of Kaiden, but also thinking how callous it would be to say there was someone else in her life.

  “Let me guess,” he said, expression wry but gentle. “There’s someone else?”

  She nearly flinched, and he seemed to interpret the expression that came over her correctly.

  He gave a soft laugh. “It’s not a bad thing. I’m glad. I’m jealous,” he admitted, “but I’m glad. He’s lucky.”

  “Well, he’s mundane, so he’s also no longer in the picture.” Her words came out with an acerbic bite, and for a moment she worried he’d think it was directed toward him.

  But instead, he took her hand. The look in his eyes was open, earnest. Kind. “You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who worries what her parents think. You strike me as smart, strong, and capable. Strike me like lightning,” he added with a grin.

  She laughed. “Whatever.”

  “Seriously. You should trust yourself to make good decisions.”

  “It’s hard when your mother is an overbearing blackmail artist who’s essentially admitted she’s going to sabotage your magical career ambitions if you do insist on making your own decisions,” she said sardonically.

  “I can’t speak to that,” he said, voice sympathetic. “But I do know that you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because,” he said dryly, “I could tell you were about to set my pants on fire every time I opened my mouth.”

  She let out a surprised laugh. “How?”

  “Well, you’re a talented witch, but you’re not a very subtle one. And I admit I have a bit of skill in detecting pre-formed spells,” he said, laying a finger across his nose.

  “Sneaky,” she said, smile curling her lips.

  He nodded. “But very useful. Kept my water glass full, just in case.”

  “I wouldn’t have set your pants on fire,” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “...No.”

  He just laughed. “And that’s why I like you.

  Her slightly warmer than death cheer lasted until she returned home.

  “Hey, Mystie,” she said, but then she realized with a sinking feeling that Mystia was still not speaking to her.

  Mystia barely turned her head, muttered a terse, “Hey,” and turned back to her TV show, Veronica draped over her neck like an ermine. The show was something medical with lots of attractive actors, which she usually called “doctor fantasy trash” while happily admitting in the same breath that they were some of her favorite types of shows.

  So Tobie slipped off her shoes, padded into her room, and changed into her pajamas in a kind of self-imposed exile. Her creeping ivy, a potted monstrosity of vine and leaves she’d had since she was about twelve and which refused to yield to mortal time, glowed gently in the darkness. Over the years, she’d infused it with magic, protection spells and love spells and confidant spells. She whispered to it now, imbuing her words with the magic of true confession.

  “I wish I were as brave as Alistair thought I was,” she said.

  A tear rolled down the bridge of her nose as she lay sideways.

  The plant didn’t move or respond (because, well, it was an ivy plant), but the shimmer of the magic on her words touched its upturned leaves, and it shimmered softly back.

  Chapter 28

  KAIDEN

  Phoebe convinced him to go to Dogget’s again, which actually hadn’t taken much effort.

  Phoebe had said, “Parson Harris challenged me to a throwing contest at Dogget’s tonight. I said sure, but he’d have to give me a ride there and chauffeur me home after I won,” and Kaiden had said, “I’d love to see that. If you’ll have me as a chauffeur instead, I’d be happy to take you.”

  Phoebe had replied that that would perhaps be kinder and agreed, since Parson Harris would undoubtedly lose, and he got moody when he lost, so it would’ve been an uncomfortable ride home.

  “Do you ever cheat?” he asked her on the way over.

  “Cheat?”

  “With magic?”

  He caught her expression in his periphery, which was deeply offended.

  “I’m sorry,” he rushed to say. “I just—”

  “The only magic I use is in the line of the wrist and the keenness of spatial intelligence. In short, I do not assist my physical aim with my metaphysical talents.”

  “Oh, Phoebe, really, I didn’t mean—”

  But then Phoebe had roared with laughter, and he found himself shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

  “I’ll have you know I don’t use magic,” Phoebe reiterated, “but I don’t blame you for asking. You’re just so easy to tease,” she said, cackling.

  True to form, Phoebe had soundly whipped Parson Harris by the third round, but then he insisted on the best five out of nine.

  Phoebe came over to the table to take a swig of beer between the third and fourth round. “Hey,” she said suddenly. “Did you ever do the stupid but heroic thing you were thinking of doing? To win October Moon back?”

  “You said it was a bad idea.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, not in so many words.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll say it. It’s a bad idea. But it’s also a brilliant one. And you’re a happy boy by nature, so it doesn’t make sense to see you all distant-eyed and mopey. Do your stuff,” she said, and whirled to throw a knife so precisely that it split the bullseye right in two.

  The crowd cheered uproariously. She turned back to him and winked.

  So, after much hemming and hawing, but ultimately deciding he couldn’t live the quality of life he wanted if he didn’t at least try, he set his plan in motion.

  In the hallway, out of the roar of the crowd cheering Phoebe on, he texted Mystia, whose number Tobie had left in his phone.

  Hope you don’t mind me reaching out. This is Kaiden. Just wanted to make sure Tobie’s doing okay.

  When thirty minutes passed with no reply (he spent fifteen minutes pacing in the hall before returning to his seat), he knew that was it—the silent death-knell. He’d never hear from or about Tobie again.

  And as soon as this thought passed through his mind, Mystia texted him back.

  Dude she misses you. Please come see her.

  He texted back, mouth hanging open:

  Are you sure? She made it pretty clear she didn’t want to see me. I thought maybe I could talk to your mother.

  Wow. You really do like her. Or you have a death wish. That’s literally the worst idea. Mom will turn you into a ferret or something.

  He snorted, but his knee jiggled wildly as he stared hard at his phone.

  I’ll take the chance.

  I’m all for you talking to Tobie but out of the kindness of my heart I’m absolutely not condoning you taking this to Mom. YOU. WILL. DIE.

  Having a witch—a real, bona fide, spell-wielding witch—tell him in no uncertain terms that his death was imminent, should he choose this path, was terrifying. But he set his jaw.

  If Isidora Takahama Moon turned him into a ferret, then so be it.

  I’m doing this with or without you, he texted. He paused a beat. But I definitely wouldn’t mind the help.

  He stared at the little ellipses of Mystia’s reply,
cycling through the three dots for what seemed like ten excruciating minutes.

  I’ll help. But if you get turned into a ferret or a toad or an armchair or something I can’t guarantee I can change you back. Mom’s transmogrification curses are an absolute b—”

  He clicked his phone screen off and snorted, shaking his head. But he had a plan.

  He looked up, vision sharp with triumph. Phoebe was slinging double knives and Mr. Yi was leading the group in folk songs, but he saw them from high above and far away. He was about to do big things.

  Stupid things.

  But big.

  For love.

  For the magic girl with the green streak in her hair and the sharpest tongue he’d ever encountered.

  Yeah. This was happening.

  Chapter 29

  TOBIE

  Percival Root was from the Old Country. He had a lovely accent and even lovelier hazel eyes.

  He also had what Tobie discerned to be a deep-rooted obsession with his hair.

  And also himself, just overall.

  He regaled her and her parents with stories about his trips to the salon, plus his favorite hair products (and did Tobie have any favorite hair products?), plus his general prowess at sports (“I play at the collegiate club level, which is a pretty big deal,” to which Tobie replied, “So you kick a ball around with the undergrads on the main mall?” and he turned a brilliant shade of purple), plus his well-developed sense of humanitarian civic duty.

  “I volunteer all the time in magical circles,” he said.

  “Oh, how lovely, dear,” said Isidora with a perfect, manicured smile. “What do you volunteer for?”

  “Well, there’s this fashion show at Christmas that the Coven Brass do every year, so I always model. They’re so happy to have me. And then I put a lot of my images up as royalty free on stock photo websites. I mean, they’re really high quality, so why not? I know people appreciate them.”

  Her father snorted into his napkin under the pretense of coughing, and even Isidora slipped into a bewildered expression for a moment.

  “So, just how humanitarian are your photos?” Tobie asked sweetly.

  Her mother shot her a warning look.

  “Oh, very,” said Percival, nodding in agreement with himself. “I really try to capture the human plight, you know? Here, I can show you—”

  The doorbell rang.

  And it was a good thing it did, because if Percival had shown her his “humanitarian” and “plight-capturing” photos on his phone, she would’ve chucked it across the room and indentured herself to her mother’s lectures for at least a full hour, if not longer.

  “I’ll get it!” she fairly shouted, leaping out of her seat. She pretended not to hear her mother call out that her father could get the door instead.

  She flung it open, not caring who was on the other side—just knowing that whoever it was, he or she had saved her.

  Her jaw dropped. She forgot to breathe for a full three seconds.

  Because standing there, with a handful of glorious purple roses and a bashful expression, one hand shoved in his back pocket, was Kaiden.

  Chapter 30

  KAIDEN

  Tobie stared at him with the most wonderstruck, slack-jawed expression before blinking herself into one of panic.

  “Why are you here?” she hissed, eyes darting over her shoulder. “This is—”

  “October? Who is it?” called a woman, and Kaiden could tell by the poise in her voice and her perfect enunciation that this was Isidora Takahama Moon, and he had to remind himself that he would not be frightened by her.

  “It’s, uh, it’s a missionary,” she shouted back.

  “October, I told you about shouting in the house,” said Isidora, and she emerged from the threshold off to the right to give Kaiden an imperious, appraising look. “I was under the impression missionaries brought books, not flowers.”

  “He was just leaving!” Tobie shouted again, and tried to shut the door in his face.

  But he pushed past her and took a step into the foyer. “I’m sorry to intrude, Mrs. Takahama Moon,” he said, “but my name is Kaiden Farr, and I’d like your permission to court your daughter.” It sounded awfully formal, but he’d decided that it was probably a better tactic than trying to convince her through vigorous debate.

  “Excuse me?” she said, eyebrow raised.

  He avoided looking at Tobie, whose jaw had proverbially hit the floor. She was dancing around as though she had to use the restroom.

  A young man and an older man—the latter of whom Kaiden assumed was Tobie’s father—poked their heads into the hall.

  “Please...I know you think I’m not good enough for Tobie. I know she’s talented and smart and—and actually magic, and I’m just an IT guy from Willow Bend, but I care about her. A lot,” he added, which was a massive understatement.

  He didn’t tremble, but his knees felt a little wobbly under the scrutiny of four pairs of eyes.

  Isidora’s lips were delicately pursed. “You’re the boy who’s been seeing October? The mundane boy?”

  Kaiden knew from Mystia’s rapid-fire primer on witches that “mundane” meant non-magical, except the way Isidora’s tongue curled around the words, it sounded more like it meant “fecal matter.”

  “Y-yes, Mrs. Takahama Moon,” he said.

  “Moon.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Moon. Just Moon. There’s no hyphen.”

  “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Moon.”

  She looked him up and down once more. “It was silly of you to come here tonight,” she said after a moment.

  His insides sank.

  “Mom—”

  “Silly, but sweet. If you were a preternatural, I’d consider your request. But you must know—and October must learn—that a union between preternatural and mundane would never work.”

  “Please, if you’d only allow me—”

  “So let this be a lesson to both of you,” she said, and pinched her forefinger and thumb together.

  At first, he thought nothing had happened.

  But then he realized he was staring at everyone’s knees, and Tobie screamed.

  Chapter 31

  TOBIE

  “How dare you, Mom?!” Tobie shrieked.

  In Kaiden’s place, swimming in his clothes, was a very disoriented (and very purple) Standard Poodle.

  “Izzy—” began her father, appealing to Isidora.

  But she snapped back at them. “You’re both too soft!” She turned to Percival, who was standing, gape-mouthed, in the hallway. “Percival, I’m so sorry, dear, but—”

  But Tobie was absolutely done. “Actually, Percival, kindly get the f—”

  “Young lady!”

  “GET OUT, PERCY!” she shouted over her mother, and Percival (who’d told her he wouldn’t be caught dead responding to being called Percy, even though Tobie had heard his mother call him nothing but Percy) jumped and scurried past the Kaiden-poodle and out the door.

  “Izzy,” her father tried again, “I really think maybe this was a tad overboard.”

  “I don’t care what you think, Harry. This is our daughter’s future we’re jeopardizing if we let this boy continue see her.”

  “HELLO?! I’M RIGHT HERE,” Tobie shouted.

  But her father gave her a warning look, and it was so rare for her to see him give any sort of less-than-pleasant look that she quieted immediately out of shock.

  “Izzy. This isn’t the way.”

  Isidora remained silent, face like thunder.

  “Tobie’s given you every indication she’s a bright, capable, adult woman,” he continued gently. “I know you think you know best, but you also raised her to be that bright, capable woman. Trust that you’ve done a good job. Because look at her,” he said, raising a hand toward Tobie. “You’ve done a perfect job. With Tobie and with Mystia. Those are our girls, and they make us proud every day.”

  For one law-of-the-universe-defying moment, her
mother looked like she was going to relent.

  But then Isidora’s expression hardened, as though a beautiful—and indestructible—mask were folding over something soft and vulnerable.

  The poodle was now barking and nuzzling at Tobie’s knee. She patted him, tried to calm him down, but he continued to whine.

  “That’s enough out of that animal,” said Isidora, and she raised her finger.

  But Tobie shouted “NO!” at the top of her lungs and threw herself in front of the dog.

  What was meant to be a silencing spell aimed at a transfigured dog hit a very human and curse-resistant Tobie in the back with all the force of a spell thrown by a witch at the height of her powers.

  Tobie was immediately and forcibly grounded, sent sprawling across the lacquered floor and onto the wide, blood-red rug, cheek sustaining a rug burn the likes of which she hadn’t felt since she played indoor softball in kindergarten. (The gym floor had been that horrible knotted and so-called “carpet,” which was really more sandpaper than anything, and was probably soaked with the blood of a thousand tiny children skinning their knees over the course of decades.)

  When she regained her breath and managed to haul herself upright (her father rushed to help), the Kaiden-poodle was licking her face and whimpering softly, and her mother was utterly absent.

  Tobie bit back the sudden, angry prick of tears in her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” her father asked.

  “How dare she?” she said, voice barely above a whisper. She blinked hard. “What is wrong with her?”

  The Kaiden-poodle rested his chin on her knee and looked up at her with sad, dark eyes.

  Her father sighed. “She loves you.”

  Tobie let out a half laugh, half scoff. “Yeah, right.”