“Yeah.” Tears threatened to well in my eyes and I clenched my hands into fists, staring at the ground. I almost jumped when I felt Mocha’s head press against my knee in a show of support. When I looked at her, she wasn’t looking at me, but I could feel the intention all the same.
I snuck a peek at the others. Lizbeth was wiping away a few tears, and Ella looked stricken. Wren, Ethan, and Theo seemed less affected. They looked about my age, and if Mom had left before I was born, they probably hadn’t met her. Knowing of someone was different than knowing them.
“Your mom was a good person,” Ella said. Her voice almost shook, but there was an iron-rod strength behind it too.
I agreed, albeit silently. My mom was a fantastic person. If she’d left, and not introduced me to these people or even mentioned them, there had to be a reason for it.
Silence reigned, and I wasn’t sure how to break it.
“I’m assuming you have questions?” Lizbeth cleared her throat. “Feel free to ask.”
“Magic?” I asked, drawing a question mark in the air with my finger.
There was an understanding, an undercurrent of amusement.
“Magic is real,” Lettie said, a smile on her face.
I glanced at her, my stomach lurching.
Lettie was watching me although still knitting. “Your mom was a witch,” she said. “She trained here.”
“She never told me,” I said, not sure what thought bothered me the most. That she’d known and not told me, or that they could be lying and I wouldn’t be able to tell. Maybe this whole thing was a hallucination although I’d left denial behind enough that I doubted it. I wasn’t sure what to say and didn’t want to risk offending them. If they were actually witches, they could turn me into a toad.
Given how cranky Mildred looked, I wouldn’t have put it past her.
Speaking of—“Is Mildred a witch?” I asked.
Lettie nodded. “She’s one of the old guard.” She said the words as if they meant something.
“What about her?” I pointed down at Mocha.
“Each witch has a familiar.” Wren was the one who spoke. “Usually they’re summoned as part of an exam when the witch or warlock reaches eighteen.”
“I didn’t mean to summon her,” I said.
“I know,” Mocha muttered acerbically. I eyed her.
“I didn’t think so,” Wren said, some mirth in her eyes. “But it does mean your magic is flaring out and, if uncontained, could cause problems.”
I looked from her to Theo, to Ella and Lizbeth. “You’re all related?”
“Lettie adopted Ella, Sam, and I when we were young. We’re not biologically related.” Lizbeth met my eyes steadily.
“And you’re magic,” I said slowly, still trying to get my brain to process the thought.
“Yep,” Wren said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
“How do you know I am?” I asked, desperate.
As a unit, they all turned and looked at Mocha.
My cheeks turned red. “Well, besides her,” I said, trying to salvage some dignity.
There was quiet for a moment, and then Wren made a thoughtful noise. “The side door.”
I looked at her, trying to figure out what she was talking about. “Oh,” I said, “the side door at the coffee shop.”
Wren nodded. “It can only be accessed by somebody that’s a witch, and even more specifically, one whose magic or bloodline originated from this town.”
“That’s an awfully specific spell for a door,” I muttered.
Ella snorted. Lettie’s sniff was more delicate. “Some of us have a sense of humor,” Lettie said primly.
There was another inside joke there, one I was getting closer to understanding, but I wasn’t quite there yet. I frowned, my mind turning things over and looking at them from multiple directions. “So, are all witches the same?”
Theo hid a smile, but it was Wren who answered. “We all have different skill sets, although they’re generally established once we hit adulthood.”
“And Mocha’s my familiar, which is why you can’t hear her.”
“Correct,” Theo said, glancing at Ethan. “Familiars can only be heard by their bonded partner.”
“But I didn’t mean to summon her. I don’t even know how I did it.” I felt like I was trying to complete a puzzle without all the pieces.
Lizbeth glanced at the clock. “I know this must be overwhelming,” she said, sympathetic. “What about sleeping on it, and we can talk again in the morning?”
Somehow, I had a feeling it would not get better in the morning, no matter how much I hoped that was the case. “Okay,” I said, because I was tired. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to sleep, though, with all the questions running around my mind.
I thought for a few seconds. “So long story short, I’m a witch.” I looked around the room. “And all of you are too.” There was a collective nod. “And my mom was.”
“Correct,” Wren said, looking at the others. Another collective nod.
“Any chance I’m hallucinating this?” I asked, but I wasn’t sure what answer I was hoping for.
There was a faint smile on Ella’s face. “No,” she said. “Although we understand that sentiment.”
“Does this happen a lot?” I asked, glancing at Mocha.
The look Lettie gave me was unimpressed, like I wasn’t making sense. “What do you mean?”
“Somebody finding out they’re a witch,” I said. “When they didn’t know.”
“More often than you think,” Lizbeth said officiously. Then her face softened. “But it’s been a while. Elder’s been fairly normal for the past couple decades.”
I still wasn’t entirely convinced that I wasn’t mad. But I also wasn’t convinced that wasn’t bad.
Besides, part of me was starting to get excited. If I was magic, maybe there were cool things I could do with it. Ways I could help people, or help myself. I enjoyed being altruistic, but I needed to be able to afford a place to live first.
“I’ll walk you back to your place,” Wren said, her hands tucked in her pockets.
“I can find–”
“I’ll walk you back,” Wren said with a wink.
I held my hands up in defeat. I had a feeling that it wasn’t just for my sake, but was in fact also to make sure I didn’t run away screaming or pass out on the floor, or something else dramatic. If I was the only one who could hear Mocha, how was she supposed to call for help?
“Good night,” I said, smiling at each in turn. It wasn’t the most confident smile, and three of them broke with a yawn, but they were polite enough not to mention it.
“Let’s go,” Wren said, her smile fond.
I nodded once more, and Mocha followed me out of the house, the quiet echoes of the family’s goodbyes behind me.
Chapter Four
I tucked my hands in my pockets and followed Wren. “You’ve known since you were a kid?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Wren dipped her head. “A lot of us here have,” she said, without making it sound like a good or a bad thing. “I didn’t know you didn’t know.”
“Is it normal to get–” I paused. “People like me?”
Wren stopped for a second or two, then kept walking. “We’re not a normal family here,” she said, speaking slowly. “While Ella is my mom, and Lizbeth is Theo and Ethan’s, Lettie’s home is a haven for people who don’t belong anywhere else.” She looked at me, then smiled. “She takes us in when we have nowhere else to go, and we become a family. There’s been people who are magic, even if they didn’t know it.”
People like you, wasn’t said out loud.
“Like the home for misfit toys.”
That earned me a blank look, and if I was still here for Christmas, I would have to add that movie to the list of things to do.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Wren said firmly.
I wasn’t sure what my face showed, but Wren looked alarmed and the
n relaxed.
“You seem to be taking it better than some others have,” Wren said, looking me over pensively.
“I’m still in shock,” I said honestly. “I don’t think it’s really–”
“Kicked in?” Wren finished when I stopped.
I nodded, because that was what I’d been looking for. Her eyes strayed over to Mocha, who was sitting a few feet in front of us and moving every time we caught up.
“I’m still here,” Mocha said, sounding a mix between annoyed and amused. “I’m not a figment of your imagination. You wouldn’t be able to dream up something like me.”
I wasn’t sure if that was her ego or a promise.
“What’d she say?” Wren asked, curiosity there.
“That I needed to stop looking at her like she would disappear,” I said dryly. I left out the other bit.
Wren laughed. “I never heard of someone being able to summon their own familiar before knowing they were magic,” she said honestly. She gave Mocha an appraising look. “She looks good.”
The words Mocha said in return were not something I would say in public. Especially not to someone I’d just met.
Wren caught the look on my face. “I take it she doesn’t approve?” She looked delighted.
I coughed into my hand. “She had suggestions, but I plead the fifth.”
“Oh, she’ll fit right in.” Wren laughed.
Fit in with what, I didn’t know, but part of me was inordinately pleased to fit in with something. If I really was magic, it would set me apart from a large swath of humanity. It was nice to at least have somewhere I fit in, even tenuously.
“Sam didn’t mention magic at all?” Wren asked, as if they had asked her to broach the topic but she was doing so carefully.
“Nope,” I said, popping the P sound. “I mean, we moved a lot when I was little, because my dad was in the military. But we settled when I turned six and stayed there.”
She gave me a strange look, which I returned.
“What didn’t you know about?”
Wren stopped, then held her hands up. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I never heard anything about your Dad. All I knew about Sam was before we knew you existed.”
Anger burned through me like a flash fire, irrational but loud. I’d been hoping for answers, and she was confirming I wasn’t going to get any.
I was an open book when it came to emotions, although when they were complicated, I wasn’t always sure what dominated.
“We’re not the enemy here,” Wren said carefully.
I let out a long breath. “I know,” I admitted. “I’m sorry.” I scrubbed my eyes, the fatigue finally setting in and sapping the last of my energy.
“It’s okay for this to be a shock,” Wren said, and her voice sounded like she believed it. “We’ll be here if you need us.” We headed into the alley, and even the night was quiet.
We stopped in front of the coffee shop, the gate looming almost comically large to my tired, fuzzy eyes. “Is she staying with me?” I looked down at Mocha, who yawned. She looked so normal. There was nothing like Mocha in Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures. As usual, fantasy and reality weren’t close together.
“Good luck getting rid of her,” Wren said dryly. She sounded way too awake for almost midnight now. Maybe she was a night person. I wasn’t. “She’s your familiar now.”
I nodded as if that explained something, even it really, really didn’t.
“Get some rest,” Wren advised. “Things will look better in the morning.”
I sort of doubted it, but I nodded instead and headed towards the gate. I stopped with my hand on it, looking back at Wren, who looked at me with a question in her eyes.
“Do you want me to invite you in?” I asked, just in case I was missing something.
She shook her head. “Just making sure you made it safely inside.”
I gave her a smile I wasn’t sure I felt, then opened the gate, then headed towards the door.
“If you want –” Wren stopped, as if she wasn’t sure.
Curious now, I turned to look at her. “What?”
“I can show you your apartment?”
I glanced up at the apartment I had seen and already put stuff in. “Show me my apartment?”
“It can wait,” Wren said with a faint smile. “I just thought you might want to see how magic makes up your apartment.”
I stared at her, surprised. “My apartment’s magic?”
She nodded. “I don’t know the full history of the building, but it was built with magical people in mind. The prior owners introduced some more conventional spells.”
It almost felt surreal, like I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere and wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Wren was watching me carefully as if she expected me to faint or hyperventilate. It wasn’t on the docket, but probably wasn’t that far off. The day had gone a lot longer than I’d expected, with more surprises.
“It’ll be quick,” Wren added. “We can do a better tour in the morning or something.”
“Sure.” I was desperate for sleep, but my curiosity won out. I was starting to accept that magic was a thing, and maybe even a thing I had. Why not take advantage of learning more when it was offered?
“The back door is magic locked?” I asked, looking at it and then back at Wren. It looked like a normal door to me.
“There’s no actual key for it.” Seemingly more in her element, Wren moved towards it, a finger on the lock mechanism. “This was put in just to blend in.”
“So how did I open it?” I asked, baffled.
“If you have the right bloodline, you can literally just push it open.” Using a fingertip, Wren pushed, and the door swung open.
“That’s not very secure.” I frowned at it.
“You’d be surprised how few people qualify,” Mocha said. When I looked at her, she was scratching behind her ear and apparently not paying attention. Except she was.
Wren headed up the stairs, waiting on the second step for me to follow. The air felt heavy as we walked, and the stillness of the night made things creepier. It was payback for all the true crime I’d watched growing up.
I hadn’t noticed her move, but Mocha was sitting by the door when we got up there. I looked behind me, then back at her.
“You were slow.” Mocha gave me her usual stare.
“I’m guessing whatever it is, she’s not happy?” Wren asked, her voice sounding oddly loud in the silence.
“I think that’s a fair assumption,” I said dryly.
Mocha’s eyes narrowed (or as much as a dog’s could) as she studied me, the scrutiny feeling all too human.
“Are you a human trapped in a dog’s body?” I guessed. It could have been sarcasm, but I was serious, too. She could have answered either way and I would have found it believable.
“No,” Mocha said, standing and stretching with her butt in the air. “Are you a dog trapped in a human body?”
“Does that happen?” I asked, feeling a bit frazzled.
Mocha just arched an eyebrow at me.
“I’m guessing that’s a no.” I looked chagrined.
Mocha turned to look at Wren and then back at me. “You really are new to this, aren’t you?”
I frowned. It was the best I could do this late in the evening. “I’m sorry if my lack of magic knowledge offends you.”
“You’d better fix it,” Mocha said. She stood, nudging the front door open without touching the lock, and padding inside.
I froze. My hand went to the key in my pocket, the one I’d used to unlock the door.
“You know what, let’s save this for the morning,” Wren said, reaching over and touching my shoulder in almost an apology. “It’s been a long day.”
I nodded in agreement, although I couldn’t deny that I was hoping when I woke up it would’ve been a hallucination of some sort. Life would be less fun that way, but a lot more normal.
“See you tomorrow.” Wren squeezed my shoulder again, apparentl
y in lieu of a hug, then turned and left, the door closing quietly behind her.
“If you run,” Mocha said, “I will find you.”
“That makes you sound like a bounty hunter,” I muttered.
Mocha looked at me blankly.
“You haven’t heard of those?” Maybe she didn’t watch TV?
“I have other things to do with my time,” Mocha said wryly.
My laugh was slightly hysterical. To be fair, I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to run, drive away as fast as I could until life became normal again. Until the night became a dream, a memory that faded.
“You’re like a puppy,” Mocha said, with the air of someone who had thought long and hard about their words. “But the human version.”
“I guess.” I scrubbed a hand across my eyes, fatigue dragging me down. “Can we continue this conversation in the morning?”
“I suppose.” Mocha stood, moving a few steps before she looked back at me. “Are you coming or not?”
Giving in, I followed the talking dog to my new bedroom, and passed out.
**
I opened my eyes, then closed them again. Tried again. Nope, no go. It was the same new ceiling, and I could feel a warm lump sprawled on the side of my bed. A quick glance confirmed it was Mocha. I thought about asking her to get off, then thought better of it.
“It’s too early to break out of here,” Mocha muttered, stretching without standing up. “I can’t chase you down for another twenty minutes.”
“That’s specific.” I sat up now, my smile almost fond. I tucked my legs under myself, stretching my arms over my head. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Beyond moving here, I hadn’t really come up with any agenda.
I didn’t know how much time passed before Mocha stretched again, sitting up and giving me an odd look. “You’re not hyperventilating.”
I blinked. “No,” I agreed. “I try not to do that. It makes me cranky.”
She made an amused noise.
I sat where I was, trying to come to terms with what was happening in front of me. Last night had been real. There was a talking dog wiggling around on her back on my bed, veering dangerously close to the edge. I was apparently magic.
“But I can’t do any magic,” I said, looking at my hands. I hadn’t heard of any wands, hadn’t seen them on Wren or Theo or anyone from the night before.
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