Familiarity Breeds Witchcraft Read online

  “I like having you here,” Gemma said, and it was true. Aside from Enid, Rowan was her best real life friend: the one person whose presence only ever filled her with joy more than anxiety.

  A lot of that was probably because Rowan was the one person who knew better than to meddle in Gemma’s nonexistent love life.

  The meddling had reached critical mass in Secret Hallow lately. Intentions were good, but being trapped in a hurricane of good intentions was still a hurricane.

  Gemma’s attic was the eye at the center of the storm. An Ethernet cable-draped place of calm. As long as Rowan preserved that calm, she was welcome to hang out under a constant stream of Bronson’s drool.

  Gemma turned back to her computer and began typing. “It is very quiet in here, isn’t it?” She hadn’t often considered just how quiet the attic could be, even with the low drone of the computers and distant sounds of the villagers going about their day-to-day business on the street below. At times Secret Hallow could sound very loud for a place so small and…well, secret. “Probably won’t be getting much quiet when the little one finally makes an appearance, huh?” She glanced over and nodded toward Rowan’s belly.

  Rowan groaned again, rubbing the back of her hand across her sweat-damp forehead. “No kidding. Getting rest at all right now is almost impossible since the baby either kicks me awake or leans against my bladder so I need to pee for the millionth time. Oh, pumpkins, do I miss sleep…something I won’t be getting for a while.” As if in response to her complaints, the great mound of her stomach twitched. Bronson flopped his head over to ensure maximum slobber-spread over the baby’s squirming form. “The wee witchling seems to be in tune with my feelings. Whenever I get worked up, she kicks.”

  “Revenge for getting all tensed up?” Gemma asked mischievously. A fiber optic cable slithered from under her desk and twined adoringly around her ankle. Gemma leaned down to stroke its connector with a knuckle.

  “I like to think she’s encouraging me to relax as only she can,” Rowan said. “I’m probably naïve.”

  It was ridiculous to consider what that would be like: having a human being inside of her, so dependent on her. It was one thing having her attic filled with computers pining for her whenever she was away. There was now a power cable inching its way out of the floorboards to seek contact with her, animated by her magic, and it gave Gemma a tug of warmth to know that it would be far from the last component seeking her love.

  But even if the computers didn’t like it, they didn’t mind when she left. Gemma would never be able to leave a baby if she got pregnant.

  Gemma considered whether she might ever change that part of her life. While she sometimes thought she should try to get out more often and become more involved in the coven, she never regretted the amount of sleep she managed.

  As much as she liked kids, she felt much too selfish to have one of her own. She didn’t envy Rowan her impending motherhood.

  After all, Gemma would get to play around with kids all day, and then return them to their parents at night. It was the best of both worlds.

  “Were you at the gathering last night?” Rowan asked. “I saw Enid trying to raise the Ash Academy, but I only stuck around long enough for a piece of Nana’s pie.” Rowan’s patience for ebullient social gatherings was rapidly waning as the prodding inquiries about her pregnancy increased.

  The questions were even worse than the ones directed toward Gemma. Like, “Are you still pregnant?” (No, Rowan had just swallowed a pumpkin, she would joke.) “When is that baby coming?” (She’s scheduled for seven-thirty on Thursday, was her response to that one.) Or even, “What’s taking so long?” (To which Rowan sarcastically apologized because it was clearly her fault for withholding the newest witchling from the coven.)

  Amusingly snide responses aside, Rowan was clearly getting sick of it. She’d gotten a lot of practice hexing people lately. She had even cursed a mustache onto old Iris Westerly for a couple of days. As hilarious as that had been, it was like asking to be excluded from the annual pie bake off next year.

  “I didn’t stick around long at the Ash Academy either.” Gemma shook her head with a sigh. An Ethernet cable that had draped itself over her shoulder gave her cheek a comforting rub. “Enid told me the spell didn’t really work again.”

  “Yeah.” Both Rowan and Bronson sighed together. She scratched the spot right behind his ears that he liked. “At this point, I’m not sure we can ever bring that old building up to scratch.” Rowan met Gemma’s gaze with a concerned one of her own. “Have you considered other options for the school? My little one will need a place to learn. I’d rather not have to take her somewhere else for that to happen.”

  “I don’t know if we have many other options,” Gemma said. The village was positioned between cliff and beach on steep real estate, which meant there wasn’t a lot of open space—almost none of it without some kind of magical problem.

  “I’ve been looking at listings in another town.” Rowan looked guilty. “Listings for houses, that is. Does that make me a traitor?”

  Gemma laughed to herself at the thought of Rowan as a traitor. She might have flaws just like everyone else, but tended to be loyal to a fault. “Depends on why you’re looking.”

  “Like I said…I want to be sure this one gets a good education.” Rowan shifted again, causing Bronson to lift his head off her belly. A large spot of drool stained the oversized shirt she wore. “In another coven’s town there might be more opportunities to learn all the magic that could be hard to pick up here right now.”

  Gemma nodded, more to herself than in response to Rowan.

  Secret Hallow lagged behind other coven towns due to the inability to maintain a secure place for their younger members to test out their strengths. The more informal ways everyone learned really suited the spirit of the town, but Emilia Ash had built her old school for a reason: strong witchcraft could be dangerous when used by the untrained.

  Rowan was a powerful witch, and any witchling she produced would need a proper education.

  “No,” Gemma said aloud after mulling for a minute. “You’re not a traitor. But if you give me time, I think we can make something work here.”

  “I hope you’re right. I mean, I’m not the only one bringing a child into our world. All the kids need to be taught. Moving my family away won’t solve the bigger problem.”

  Knowing Rowan to be right, Gemma bit her lip, her emotions churning. She hadn’t been super worried about the school before because the problem hadn’t seemed too immediate. The village contained very few small children for the moment, Orianna’s daughter Fern being one of the youngest, but she knew other young couples would be starting families in the not-too-distant future.

  They needed some place to teach the next generation before everyone drifted away and the coven died out.

  “What if…” She paused to get her thoughts in order. “Maybe we’re looking at this situation the wrong way. The use of magic might not be the best option for us in this case.” The A/V connector against her wrist twitched, as though offended by the implication.

  “What do you mean?” Rowan asked. She got up onto one elbow, wincing. “Ooh…bad idea.” She lay back again. “What I wouldn’t give to feel comfortable for just a few minutes!”

  Gemma gave Rowan an understanding smile. “We can’t tap into our magic to rebuild the school. We’ve tried and failed too many times for me to believe we could ever be successful. So what if we approach this in a more straightforward way? Raise money, tear down the old buildings, then build a new structure by hand.” She had been trying to avoid that very thing for months. It was expensive, difficult, and would require finding contractors who knew about witches.

  “Oh!” Rowan thought for a few minutes. “That just might work. Why didn’t we come up with the idea before?”

  “You’ve got other things on your mind.”

  The two women laughed.

  The smile dropping from her lips, Gemma went on to
say, “And because the amount of work the project would take is daunting?”

  “Depends on your definition of work, I guess. Throwing magic at a place over and over and over again isn’t the easiest way to do things.” Rowan nodded. “I like your idea. How ‘bout you get Enid to bring it up for discussion at the esbat?”

  Gemma nodded agreement.

  It was only several minutes later that she realized Rowan had assumed that Gemma wouldn’t be at the esbat to bring it up herself.

  She was right, of course. Gemma hadn’t been to an esbat in

  weeks, and even though she had yet to decide if she’d go to this one, that she would change her patterns was unlikely.

  What did it say about her that people now assumed she was going to remain distant from the coven in such a way? That even Rowan, loving best friend, believed Gemma was a solitary force unto herself?

  Bronson sensed her thoughtful mood. He plodded over and flopped on top of her lap. Gemma shut her eyes, buried her face in his fur, and inhaled his stinky dog-smell.

  At least Bronson didn’t judge.

  Chapter 3

  THAT AFTERNOON, MAGIC filled the air.

  Enid’s hands glowed brightest of all, but it was far from the only sparkling, magical light in the clearing. Bands of light connected Enid and Gemma to each other and the earth.

  Each of them carried a large basket as they trudged through a never-ending field of snow toward the towering mountains looming in the distance.

  Gemma’s breath caught at the awe-inspiring evidence of Enid’s power. She hadn’t realized her sister’s strength had reached a point where she could create such a spectacle while also restoring them both to full strength. The light continued to swirl around them for quite some time as they trudged through the brilliant late afternoon sunlight. She feared saying something might break the spell, which was why she waited until Enid finished before speaking.

  “We should head for the next village, right? Gotta surrender our cabbages for gold. With this endless winter, I’m sure we’ll make a good amount. People need to eat.”

  “I dunno, the forum says that the conversion rate for cabbages is down,” Enid said, scrolling through a page on her phone, which rested on her thigh. “We can do better with emeralds.”

  “We don’t have emeralds. We’ve spent all weekend mining cabbages for experience points.”

  “We could dump the cabbages and go back to mining.” Enid moved her controller joystick until her on-screen avatar ran alongside Gemma’s. Both their baskets bounced against their backs as they hurried to reach the next save point.

  “No way, I’m done grinding,” Gemma said. “I’ve leveled my charisma high enough, I think… These cabbages are totally getting offloaded on the first shopkeeper we see.”

  They sat shoulder-to-shoulder on Gemma’s slouchy couch in the attic. Playing together had improved so much since Enid bought the large high-definition TV to go along with their game consoles. The images weren’t yet photo quality, but gave off an air of beauty and realism that added to the gaming experience. Pretty much the main difference between the game and life was how the snow swirled about the characters and whitened the digital landscape while perpetual autumn filled the air of the real world around them.

  Secret Hallow always lingered in autumn. It was part of the magical charm of the village. There were never more than faint hints of other seasons from the outside world, and it never snowed in such a way.

  “Isn’t the amount of seasonal change in this game funny?” Gemma asked, gesturing at the screen. She couldn’t move her arm too far without disturbing the RAM that had somehow wiggled onto the couch to cuddle with her. “I can’t believe how much snow fell since we started.”

  “Better in the virtual world than out here.” Enid hit pause and took a break to adjust her striped stockings. Both the Ash sisters liked to wear what might be considered quirky clothing to some people, but Enid tended to like colors more than Gemma did. “I like that I don’t have to layer my clothes the way they do. Ruins the aesthetic.”

  Gemma shrugged as she examined her avatar, clad in multiple layers of heavy woven cloth, with several furs draped over the top of everything else. The costume did a great job of utterly anonymizing the unrealistically curvaceous figure of her avatar.

  She’d never lived outside of Secret Hallow so she’d never worried about shoveling snow or driving on ice-slick roads, but she suspected she’d hate living in such an environment and had to agree that dressing in so many heavy layers like their game avatars didn’t look appealing.

  On the other hand, she also hadn’t lived through the sweltering heat of summer while wearing super-thin clothing, either. To be fair, she realized she’d probably hate that just as much.

  Spending so much time in her tech-filled attic had given her at least a taste of being overheated to an uncomfortable temperature.

  “What about another bake sale?” Enid’s question interrupted Gemma’s thoughts.

  They resumed the game and walked until the characters arrived at the edge of a small village. Since they weren’t playing an online game the others walking around weren’t avatars, but more along the lines of set dressing.

  “Bake sale?” said Gemma. She toggled her avatar to ask a question of the shopkeeper. The controller hummed in her hands. Even the peripherals for interfacing with her game station liked it when Gemma gave them attention, and it made her video game system happy to be played.

  Enid nudged her with an elbow to the ribs. “You know, as your fundraiser. For the school. Cauldrons! Where’s your mind? You’re more distracted than usual.”

  Of course. She’d discussed with Enid the idea of raising money to reconstruct the Ash Academy in the mundane way since the coven’s spells hadn’t been working.

  Gemma decided not to bring up that this wouldn’t be her fundraiser. The entire town needed the school. Education benefited everyone—even the coven elders. “We’d need an awful lot of pies to earn enough. I can’t imagine anyone in town would be interested in buying a bunch of baked goods when they can make their own.”

  “Maybe we could try variations on a theme? Pie cook-off, brownie cook-off…”

  Gemma would be lying if she didn’t admit the thought of all the desserts didn’t make her drool. The residents of Secret Hallow were universally good at baking sweets, though Nana and Iris were the undisputed champions with pies.

  As much as she loved the idea of being buried in flaky crusts and gooey fillings, the idea didn’t seem practical. Mundane contractors were expensive, and they typically didn’t barter for things that Secret Hallow had in abundance, like pumpkins, goats, and enchantments. “I don’t know that even a series would be enough, based on past experience.”

  “Yeah.” Enid sighed and tossed aside her controller. She laid her head against the back of the sofa and rubbed her closed eyes for several moments before perking up again. “I’m sure we’ll think of something. There’ll be lots of brainstorming at the esbat tonight.” She sent Gemma a questioning look. “You coming to share your power?”

  Gemma huffed a quiet, disbelieving noise before directing her character to sell her extra vegetables to the town’s shop, while Enid’s character sat off to one side and watched with a smug expression reminiscent of her real-life counterpart. Their communal gold increased a bit, though maybe not quite enough for the special staff Enid wanted, but they must at least be close to the mark.

  If only earning money in the real world were as easy. Gemma would have harvested cabbages all day and all night to bring her vision of the new Ash Academy to fruition.

  “You know you’re welcome at the esbat,” Enid said. “Everyone misses you.” Esbats were rituals that the entire coven performed on the full moons. They were more parties than magical castings, though. Lots of socializing, lots of drinking, and lots of nosy nellies prodding Gemma for information about her love life.

  “Sure they do.” She looked away from her sister’s considering glance. “
But you know they only want me there so they can bug me about settling down or whatever. Rowan’s pregnancy has got them worked into a froth. They want all us single ladies to settle down and pop out new witchlings, and they would never leave me in peace.”

  “How would you know? You haven’t been in a long while.”

  Non-attendance seemed easier than dodging intrusive questions like flaming arrows. She would get grumpy and end up snapping at someone who didn’t deserve it—or hexing a mustache onto Iris Westerly the way that Rowan had.

  Grumpy Gemma might look to be a negative person to anyone who didn’t know her well, but she really was positive compared to others, she was just slightly more private than the majority of Secret Hallow. Most members of the coven chose not to be the one to ruin the fun vibe the group created when they got together. They tolerated the too-engaged community atmosphere with aplomb that Gemma simply couldn’t feign.

  Enid picked up her controller again. “Hold on. I’ll make potions.”

  “In the game or real life?” Relief at not having to argue with her sister cheered her.

  They both chuckled.

  As a stone witch who specialized in non-dirt earth, Enid wasn’t really the potion type. Gemma thought her sister’s concoctions would have been interesting if she had tried, though. Knowing an earth witch, they would likely turn out very heavy and clunky. She couldn’t imagine they’d be smooth enough to pass unnoticed if they were used on an unsuspecting person.

  Of course, a true witch didn’t attempt to cast magic on someone unaware of the intention, a subject who hadn’t agreed to be involved in a spell.

  Enid’s character moved to the on-screen cauldron set within a huge stone fireplace and started to throw various items into the bubbling brew. The large cast-iron vessel emitted golden swirls and the air around their avatars turned a vivid shade of lilac. Numbers appeared overhead as the practice increased her experience level.