Familiarity Breeds Witchcraft (3 page)

At least Bronson didn’t judge.

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.

This time, Gemma remained the passive viewer, sitting off to one side without participating. Her avatar’s watchful waiting reminded her of her own time spent on the sidelines of local activities.

Gaming was usually a fun escape from reality. Now it was a little too on the nose for her to have as much fun as she usually did.

Enid dumped their leftover cabbages into the cauldron.

“Well, that’s all I got. Guess I should get ready for the real magic.” Enid dropped her controller, got to her feet, and stretched. “Sure you don’t want to join us tonight?” She looked out the window as she spoke, her voice noncommittal.

“I’m sure.” Gemma plugged in the controllers. They sang out with gratitude, resonating with her techno-witch senses. Everything only silenced when she shut of the game system as Bronson clomped up the stairs and settled onto the floor next to the sofa. Crossing the room, she patted his head. “Bronson and I will chill and watch some movies.”

“Just you and Bronson, huh?”

She ignored the tone of innuendo in her sister’s voice and went to boot up her computer.

Enid patted Bronson and headed down the stairs. “See you later, then.”

“Later.” Gemma brought up her messenger.
RideswithBronson: Hey! Movie time?

FeistyFox95 was already waiting for her. This wasn’t merely because Fox was always on the internet. They had a standing movie date for nights like these when they, solitary practitioners of two different kinds, didn’t celebrate the esbats. Instead, they spent the time together in their favorite way: on the computer.

The response pinged onto her screen a few seconds later.

FeistyFox95:
Sure. Which one? I’m up for anything.

Settling in, Gemma pulled up her queue and started listing off the options.

ENID LEFT FOR the esbat as the sun set. In the time since she’d gone to prepare for the evening’s outing, Gemma and FeistyFox95 had already watched a short movie—an indie flick that had been uploaded by one of their favorite TV show personalities.

When Fox received a message regarding her work, she temporarily went AFK—away from keyboard—to handle the issue, leaving Gemma awaiting her return.

She tried not to pine in Fox’s absence.

For a little while, she rested her chin on her knuckles, gazing at Fox’s icon in the chat app. Fox was beautiful in every way possible, from mohawk to piercings and her perfect lipstick. Most people as gorgeous as Fox—she was a model, for cauldron’s sake!—wouldn’t give Gemma the time of day, much less become her best friend.

Things were different on the internet. Gemma’s avatar was of Bronson’s baleful eyes when he was begging for a bite of bacon (one of the very few things that Bronson considered worthy of waking up for). Bronson was as adorable as Fox was beautiful.

In the digital world, Gemma and Fox were sort of equals.

She sighed and turned off the app so she wouldn’t be compelled to stare at Fox’s picture the whole time she was gone. Her tablet gave a cheery sing-song throb in her magical senses, as though to celebrate the rest on its processor.

Gemma distracted herself from Fox’s absence by watching from the attic as Enid stepped out the front gate and joined the stream of people heading toward the Leif farm. Among the group she saw Garrett Blank helping his oh-so-pregnant partner Rowan waddle along the street; he seemed right at home with all the witches, though he hadn’t known until just a few months earlier that they even existed, and she envied him his ability to adapt to his new situation.

It was easy to understand why Garrett had so quickly become an irreplaceable member of the coven, though. He was such a nice guy. Relentlessly supportive. Funny to boot.

If Rowan left Secret Hallow again, Gemma wouldn’t just be losing one of her real life best friends. She would lose Garrett, too. He’d already shown himself to be a cool person who liked to help out and she considered him an asset to the coven despite the fact he had no magical power.

She had to figure out a way to keep the little family in the village.

Gemma moved to sit next to the computer closest to the window and watched until the last of the group disappeared from sight. She continued to stare outside, chin in hand, as darkness fell over the street beyond the house. The breeze died out as the sun disappeared and the room began warming up as the waning moon rose.

As the brilliant sliver of silver light backlit the ruins of a castle on the nearby bluff, she shook off her doldrums and turned her attention to her equipment.

Just turning her gaze onto her various components made her mind fill with the sparkling joy of the technology that loved her.

The feeling was mutual.

Gemma could network this PC with her more powerful tower whenever she wanted so she could work while enjoying the fresh air at the open window. The temperature in the attic sometimes became too stifling for her to concentrate on the task at hand, like now. Problem was, she tended to stare out the window and waste time, as she’d just been doing. The world outside could be too much of a distraction, too.

Bronson often shared the long bench she’d placed before this workstation with her. Considering how difficult she found getting up to be once he’d pinned her down, maybe she
should
work from the window computer more. Being trapped at her work station might just encourage her to accomplish more than she had of late.