“You summoned me,” Mocha pointed out fairly reasonably.
“Well.” Yes. “But shouldn’t it have broken out before or something?”
Mocha let out a sigh. “You’ve been watching too much TV.”
“So you do know what it is!” I may have sounded a bit triumphant.
She gave me another one of her steely looks. “Touch my collar.”
“What?” I watched as she rolled over, shook herself, and then moved her way until she was sitting in front of me.
“Touch my collar,” Mocha repeated.
Almost like I couldn’t control it, my right hand slid forward, fingertips moving down her neck to the leather band that she wore as a collar.
It felt like a massive jerk, like I’d been yanked head-over-heels or gone upside down on a roller coaster. Flying by me were symbols, some I recognized and some I didn’t. Some I’d seen in my doodles before, a random pattern somewhere that had struck me as interesting. Some I could tell what they were - a pile of pebbles with a couple faux flames was fire. Squiggly lines were water. There was a cup.
Then as suddenly as it had appeared, it disappeared. I stared at Mocha, unnerved. “What was that?”
“The runes,” Mocha said, as if it was common knowledge. “Kemet. It’s the foundation of all of our magic.”
“Kemet.” I repeated the word slowly, trying to copy the way she’d said it. Ke as in key, met as in - well, met. “What’s that?”
“That’s not my job,” Mocha said, scratching her ear and looking amused at the same time. “But for now, I suppose I’ll do. Go look at the light switch.”
Vaguely remembering Wren’s words from the night before, I stood, shivering when the cool air hit me. I would have to check the thermostat, make sure that it was working. The last thing I wanted was to freeze myself out.
Moving closer, I took a more in-depth look at the plate around the light switch. On the side, I could see some faint etchings. “There’s some sort of writing?”
“Those are runes,” Mocha said. “They’re the same type you used to summon me. It’s our universal language.”
The nerd in me was starting to get interested. “So all witches use this magic?”
Mocha shook her head, an oddly human gesture in a dog. “Only those who are of our blood.”
“So not all of them?”
Mocha’s look was patient now. “There are many different clans,” she said. “Some, like our more Southern cousins, don’t use runes at all. They work their magic through objects.”
“But we’re the type that requires runes. Drawings.” I traced my finger over them, then jumped as the light flickered on. “But I didn’t touch the switch!”
“Oh, for—” Mocha sighed. “You saw that Wren opened your door, yes?”
“Yes.” I frowned at the faceplate. “So I activated it with a touch?”
“A touch and your intention is all that’s required,” Mocha said. “Now, I’m hungry. Where’s breakfast?”
I turned away from the light switch, momentarily puzzled. “What do you eat?”
“I’m a dog,” Mocha said. She eyed me. “No pizza. It upsets my stomach.”
“Dog food?” There had to be a local store somewhere.
“I’m not picky,” Mocha said with a shrug. I had a feeling that was one of the bigger lies I would encounter today.
“Is there a good place for breakfast?” I asked. My stomach rumbled, and I put a hand on it, chagrined. I could probably have finished the pizza, but I’d left it out in all the chaos, and I had a thing about food and potential bacteria contamination.
“Depends,” Mocha said. “How far are you willing to go?”
I moved to the dresser now, pulling out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. There were clouds in the sky, and I didn’t trust the weather. Even if it was hot.
“You’ll regret at least one of those,” Mocha said. “Promise.”
“Worst case, I’m close by.” I sighed and then changed the long sleeve out for a t-shirt. I didn’t have to look nice, not at the moment. “I wish I had a glass of wine.”
“It is nice, sometimes,” Mocha agreed. She hopped off the bed, then stretched each paw on her way out the door. “Come find me when you’re done putting on your boring clothes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I saluted her, which earned me a weird look, but she left the room.
Dressed, I headed out to the living room, taking a few seconds to examine each light switch to see if there were runes on them, too. A couple seemed to escape my view, but most were noticeable. My mind had apparently switched from freaking out to trying to analyze things. Because everything was analyzable.
Growing up, I had been one of those weird kids who’d loved doing logic puzzles.
“There’s a gas station with good food,” Mocha said, apparently bored with waiting. She was sitting just in front of the corner, watching me. “Does that work for the human?”
“Good food?” I said, somewhat skeptical. Then my stomach rumbled again.
“Let’s go.” I made it to the door before I stopped. “Do you need a leash?”
Mocha gave me a look. “Do you need a leash?”
“No,” I said, somewhat obediently. “But dogs do.”
Mocha didn’t look bothered. “The humans would have to catch me first.” She moved towards the door, tail held up high like a flag with the white tip.
Giving her that, I put on my shoes, checking for a lock on the front door and not finding one. Standing in the hallway, I shifted uncomfortably. “How do we know if it’s locked?”
Mocha nudged my leg with her nose, and I looked down at her.
“Try it,” Mocha advised.
I took a second, but I pushed on the door, turning the doorknob and trying to open it. It didn’t budge. “How did you do that?” I asked.
“Magic,” Mocha said, trotting forward.
“Is there a proper entrance?” I wasn’t entirely certain what I meant by that, but I wondered if there was an easier way than the back gate every time.
“I’ll show you on the way back.”
Nodding, I headed down the steps, opening the back door and then going through the gate. I stopped, glancing around for Mocha. I yelped when I realized she was sitting at my feet. I hadn’t even noticed her getting that close that fast.
Mocha paused at the bottom of the stairs, letting out a long sigh. I looked at her, alarmed. “Something wrong?” I asked warily. If there was one thing I knew about dogs, it was that their sense of smell was a million times better than ours was. If she was upset over something, that probably meant something was wrong.
“She sticks her nose in everything,” Mocha muttered, but there was a fondness to her tone I hadn’t expected.
“Who?” I asked dumbly.
“You’ll see,” Mocha said cryptically.
I glanced at her, then at the rest of the storefront, feeling like I could be attacked at any moment. Yet I saw nothing. It was kind of anticlimactic, really.
I peered to look at the second storefront. It was dark but there was a glow, something that reminded me eerily of the lights that drew people to cliffs. It hadn’t been lit the night before, and at eight am, it seemed oddly light.
“Go say your hellos,” Mocha said.
“After breakfast.” I tucked my hands in my pockets, turning slightly to shield myself from the sun that was beating down on us. “They’ll still be there, right?”
Mocha paused, as if listening for something. Then she chuckled. “A human after my heart.” She trotted down the sidewalk, nose to the ground and white-tipped tail up in the air. She got about six feet away before she stopped, turning to look at me. “Do you want breakfast or not?”
It took me three steps to catch up with her, and then we were walking side by side. “Not driving?”
“You wanted somewhere close, right?” Mocha didn’t look up. “It’s a small town, we know each other. This is a good place.”
I glanced down at
her. “You talk like you’ve been here before.”
“I have,” Mocha said absently. “We don’t all keep the same form across time.”
‘So you’ve been something else before?” Curiosity got the better of me.
“I have.” Mocha stopped, sniffing the air, then continued forward. “Never worked with someone like you, though.”
“Someone new to the whole thing?”
“Yes,” she said. “Generally, we’re summoned by teenagers who have at least some training. You’re a different type.”
“But I’m still the same type as the rest in the town.”
“Correct.”
“Hm.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. I put my hand in my jeans pocket and then winced, realizing I’d left my cellphone behind. At least I had my wallet tucked in my back pocket. Maybe someday I could summon something I’d forgotten.
If I really was magic, and I wasn’t just hallucinating all of this, I would need training. Yes, most of my frame of reference was modern day television. It was like all those companions on shows out there who were like ‘oh my God aliens are real’ and panicked instead of taking advantage of the situation. If you had the chance to find out if aliens were real, wouldn’t you take it?
I suddenly had a lot more sympathy for them, real or not. It sounded cool in theory, but it wasn’t really that fun wondering if you were mad.
“Here we are.”
Startled, I nearly ran into Mocha. The glare she shot me would have tamed anyone. “We’re where?”
“The place I told you about.” Mocha turned in the right direction, and I followed. It didn’t really look like a traditional gas station. It was brick-built, with a stone-colored roof. The only thing that looked normal were the four gas station pumps outside. The bright sign read Red’s.
“This is a gas station?” I asked incredulously.
“What serves as one here,” Mocha answered. “Now, go.”
“Do I have to talk to people?” I asked.
“This place is non-magic run,” Mocha said. “No, you don’t have to talk to normal people. Just the crazy ones.”
“I can talk to you, then.” I gave her a sideways look.
Mocha sighed. “Rumors spread fast, human.” There was exasperation in her eyes, warm though they were. “You can talk to me in your mind,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be out loud.”
I kept my lips firmly shut. “Like this?” I said, but with my brain.
“Close enough,” Mocha said, sounding like she was laughing underneath it all. I had a feeling it was a sound I would get used to - well, used to if I stayed here. I was still doubting, still hoping, that maybe if I left and went somewhere saner, the whole thing would disappear.
The look Mocha gave me made me think she could hear what I was thinking, but she didn’t comment, whether she had nothing to say or was simply determined to let me work through it myself, I wasn’t sure. I pushed open the door, almost relaxed by the familiarity of the jingle. I didn’t know why most gas stations had that bell on the door, but it was comforting, almost like a reminder of the human world I had occupied just a day or two before.
Chapter Five
“Hello,” the young woman said at the front counter. She was younger than I was, probably early 20s. She looked similar to Wren, with neon-colored dyed hair and an ear piercing. Maybe they were related? But Wren had said she didn’t have any siblings. And Mocha had said the gas station was non-magic. Maybe dyeing hair mad colors was a fad? After a cursory look, the woman went back to her phone and whatever she’d been texting.
I sighed in relief. Part of me had been expecting somebody who wanted to talk about who I was and where I was from. Then again, this was a gas station, so it was easier for her to assume that I was a passerby, and that I was just dropping by, not planning to stay.
I was over thinking it, wasn’t I. I needed coffee in addition to breakfast.
“That’s Michelle,” Mocha said, appearing out of nowhere. I didn’t jump, but it was a near thing. “She’s good, for the human sort.”
“I’m glad she passed muster,” I muttered, earning myself a strange look from Michelle before realizing I’d said it out loud.
Mocha sighed. “You’ve got a long way to go.”
I scowled at her, not wanting to risk responding out loud. I stalked down the aisles, heading towards the refrigerated side. Sometimes gas stations stocked meals, drinks, and other assorted things. From what Mocha had said, I was hopeful they had something good.
“Why did she let you in?” I asked, keeping my lips shut even when I glanced down at Mocha.
“She can’t see me,” Mocha said absently, distracted by whatever she was sniffing. Her nose was twitching, and she wasn’t looking at me as she tried to sort through what she could smell.
I stared at her. “Really?”
“We can disappear if we want to.” Mocha glanced at me and seemed to sigh at my surprise. “Not all of us, but it’s a convenient trick.”
“So as far she knows, I’m just looking at nothing and talking to nothing,” I said.
“Yep,” Mocha said, popping the P in the same way I had earlier. “Find your food,” she ordered. “I’ll be outside.”
She trotted away, and I craned my head to watch her go. She passed through the door without a sound, almost like a ghost.
It sent shivers down my spine. Was she a ghost, maybe? Michelle at the counter hadn’t even looked up, hadn’t seemed to acknowledge the conversation at all.
Maybe turning and running away really would be the right option. But that would be admitting defeat. I wasn’t great at that, in all honesty.
I made a face, ignoring how juvenile I looked. Mocha had been right; there were several good breakfast options. Beyond the usual pre-made fare, there were yogurt parfaits and some sandwiches that looked like someone had put them together with care.
I grabbed three at random, then a yogurt parfait and a thing of iced coffee. That would get me through breakfast and lunch, and I could figure out what to do for dinner later.
The world felt so normal, approaching Michelle—I could see her nametag now—and putting my food on the counter, watching as she scanned in silence. She even seemed to be chewing bubblegum, blowing a bubble that was the same color as her hair.
“Fourteen seventy three,” she said, smacking her bubblegum.
I gave her my credit card, watched as she scanned it. I couldn’t help but stare at her. She was human, like me – what I’d thought I was. Did witches count as something else?
“Are you going to take your food?” she asked quizzically, giving me a strange look.
I realized I’d been standing there, staring into space. I flushed. “Yes, sorry.” I grabbed the bag, tucking my credit card and receipt back in my wallet.
She looked at me like I’d grown an extra head and then went back to whatever she was focusing on.
I stuffed my wallet back in my pocket and headed outside, looking around for Mocha. She wasn’t there. It surprised me that I only felt a tiny flash of hope that maybe I’d been imagining the whole thing. Maybe I was finally adjusting to the whole magic thing.
Of course, that had its own panic—what if I had been imagining things? I rubbed my forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache.
“Don’t worry,” Mocha said, her voice startling me to high heaven. “You’re not going mad.”
I tried not to look as relieved as I felt. “Of course not.”
The look Mocha gave me made it very clear she wasn’t buying what I was selling. “You’ll get there,” she said, sounding more confident than I expected her to.
“Thanks,” I said, and I sort of meant it, even though I didn’t know why. “Are we heading back home?”
There was the barest hint of a frown in Mocha’s eyes before it clicked. “You don’t know the way.”
“I have been here for a grand total of–” I checked the watch on my phone. “Thirty hours?” I said. “And I’m horrible with direct
ions.” I would admit that freely.
“Don’t worry,” Mocha said, faux-cheerfully. “We’ll make sure you get somewhere.”
“Don’t get me lost.” I tried to sound stern, but she didn’t even look at me before she trotted off down the street. Hoping it was the right direction, I followed.
She didn’t seem in the mood for conversation, which I was okay with. Instead, I pulled out one of the breakfast sandwiches and was halfway through it by the time we reached the storefront. The coffee shop seemed as dark as it had been the night before, but there was a lantern hanging in front of the smaller storefront that was still bright.
“We should probably get it over with,” Mocha said, glancing at the storefront.
I looked at her, and then the storefront. “What?”
“She always thinks she’s fancy,” Mocha muttered. “Your new neighbor.”
“My new neighbor?” I took another bite of the breakfast sandwich. I wasn’t a morning person, on top of everything. I felt terribly off-balance.
“Might as well,” Mocha said decisively, heading towards the gate.
“Do you just like to do weird stuff?” I asked, pushing the gate open. I tucked the rest of the breakfast sandwich in its package before opening the door, only half surprised to see Mocha on the other side even though she had been behind me moments before.
Was she a ghost, or was she able to do whatever she wanted? From what I knew about beagles that was a common personality trait. Instead of leading me up the stairs, she led me further down to another door, one that looked old and in need of repair.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” a normal voice said. It sounded like Mildred, but if Mildred was actually the warm grandmotherly type.
Then it hit me that I could hear her voice before I’d even opened the door. That was creepy. Realizing Mocha wasn’t beside me, I swallowed past the lump in my throat as I pushed the door open.
I stopped for a few seconds, surprised. Instead of something terrifying, Mocha was sitting at the feet of an older lady, who had cotton candy hair and a warm smile. She was settled in a rocking chair, something that would have been in vogue thirty or forty years ago. Her eyes were the most striking, as silver as her hair. They didn’t seem human.
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