#4
At the sound of Morgan’s voice, I shake my head, dislodging the anxiety-producing thoughts and offering her a smile. “Yeah. Just distracted.” I turn off my tablet and secure it in the drawer of the side table. “I forgot I still need to make a dessert for the solstice ceremony tonight.”
If she can tell I’m deflecting, she doesn’t call me on it. “Want help?”
“Nah, I’ve got it. You have fun.” I wave on my way out of the room and take a deep, settling breath. At least I’ll be with the coven tonight. Mom will be there.
I’m sure she’ll have thoughts about Cal’s offer.
* * *
My grandmother’s backyard is full of witches by the time we arrive for the summer solstice ceremony.
The coven’s numbers are higher than they’ve been in months, with all the college-age witches back in town for the summer. I pause at the corner of the house, taking in the familiar faces that I’ve known all my life. Holding space in my heart for the ones no longer here.
Mr. Blaise passed away a couple years ago, just shy of his ninetieth birthday. Now, Ellen Watson provides a steadying arm for his widow.
My high school girlfriend and covenmate, Veronica, never moved back after college. She stayed in a small town in New York, rarely returning to Salem for more than a weekend to see her family.
The one that hurts the most, though, the absence that weighs heaviest on my heart, is Dad. It’s hard to believe next month will mark eight years since we lost him. Eight years since the Witch Hunters attacked and burned down our home with him still inside.
Seeing Dad in the hospital. Hooked up to tubes and wires. The fire didn’t hurt him—it can’t hurt an Elemental—but the head injury was too severe for him to recover. Not even Morgan’s Blood Magic was enough to keep him with us.
A warm hand slides across my waist to settle at my hip. “You good?” There’s concern in Morgan’s blue eyes, worry in the crease of her brow.
I tip my head against her shoulder and breathe in the familiar eucalyptus-scented body wash that we share. “Yeah. Just missing the people who aren’t here.”
Morgan presses a kiss to my forehead in silent understanding and reassurance.
After another fortifying breath, I continue forward.
At the tables set up near the deck, we diverge.
Morgan slips away to place the brownies we brought with the rest of the after-ceremony food, while I head towards the central table where candles are set up to honor the three Sister Goddesses who gifted witches our power.
On the left, a candle for the Eldest Sister, who created Caster Witches.
On the right, a candle for the Youngest Sister, who gave Blood Witches like Morgan their gifts.
And in the center, the brightest candle burns for the Middle Sister, who created Elementals.
I let my fingers dance through the flame, aware of all the bits of magic each coven member added to the fire as an offering.
Though the Sisters were banished by Their Mother long ago, no longer permitted to interact with the witches they created, it’s soothing to honor Them in this small way.
“There’s my girl.”
Mom’s voice fills me with warmth, and when I turn to face her, she wraps me in a hug, squeezing so tight it’s hard to breathe.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, squeezing back and then carefully extricating myself.
I hold her at arm’s length, taking her in.
She stopped dyeing her hair last year, letting the gray at her temples come in naturally.
The silver sparkles in the early evening sun, and it strikes me how much she’s aged in the last eight years.
How alone she’s been since Dad died and I went off to college—then moved in with Morgan instead of coming home.
“Has Lady Ariana decided on her replacement yet?” I ask, referencing my grandmother and high priestess of our coven. Dad was supposed to take over, and it took Lady Ariana until last year to announce that she would evaluate coven members to determine her new successor.
Mom starts to shake her head, but she cuts herself off. “Well, I guess, technically, she tried to make her decision. Lady Ariana asked if I’d step into the role.”
Looping my arm through Mom’s, I lead her away from the offering candles as other coven members arrive. “You turned her down? Why?”
“I don’t want to step into your father’s shoes. It’s not my place to take the role that should have been his.” She clears her throat, eyes glistening. “Besides, the next coven leader should be someone who grew up here. Someone whose magic was guided by your grandmother.”
There are plenty of witches here who fit that description.
Nearly all of them, in fact. Only a handful of people’s partners came from outside the coven, including Sarah Gillow, who was from a southern coven before she met her wife, Rachel, and chose to join our coven instead of taking Rachel home with her.
“You’d make a fine high priestess,” Mom says, her voice gentle yet heavy with emotion. “When you’re ready. If you want the role.”
“I don’t know…” I worry the bit of tourmaline dangling from the chain around my neck, a gift from my old boss, Lauren, from when I worked at the Fly By Night Cauldron. The stone settles some of the nerves swirling around my stomach. “Cal came to visit last night. He… sorta offered me a job.”
A flash of worry darkens Mom’s eyes. “To join the Council?”
“Not exactly.” I explain everything Cal told me about the planned Archer Walsh Academy and his request that I help select the first students.
That Morgan and I could serve as faculty since we discovered the ability to combine Clan magics.
“I want to do something to help,” I admit once the explanations are finished, “but I don’t want to uproot my entire life for this.
I don’t want to turn what happened to me into my whole life. ”
“I get that.”
“But…”
Mom smiles at me. “No ‘buts.’ I think your dad would be proud of you.”
“For not going?”
“For giving it serious thought,” Mom says, tucking some of my wayward brunette hair back behind my ear.
“But, more importantly, for creating something so incredible out of something so hard. What you and Morgan discovered all those years ago, it made so much else possible. It’s why we’re safe now.
It laid the foundation for the potion that gave Sarah, and so many other witches, their magic back.
Whether you teach at the academy or not, you’ve made such a tremendous mark on our community. ”
I worry at my lower lip, letting her words sink in. “You… You wouldn’t be mad if I left? If Morgan and I disappeared to this hidden Scottish island for a couple years?”
“Of course not. I’d miss you, but you’re an adult.
I want you to go after the things that give you purpose.
The things that would make you happy.” Mom smiles, and the air swirls pleased currents between us.
The ground rumbles its approval, adding weight to the truth of her words. “So long as it’s what you want.”
Warmth spreads through me. “I’ll keep that in mind. The logistics, though…” I groan. “I don’t want to sell my house. And what about Jack and Colby? I wouldn’t want to fly them overseas.”
A new voice cuts in. “Girl, you are surrounded by a coven of witches who love you.” Ellen Watson saunters over and rolls her eyes at me. “There are plenty of people willing to house sit and keep your cats company while you’re gone.”
I glare at my covenmate, though I can’t keep the smile off my lips. “Were you eavesdropping?”
Ellen shrugs. “It’s not my fault you didn’t bother to seclude your conversation. You know the air is a gossipy element.”
“Uh huh.” I bite back the urge to stick my tongue out at her. I may be twenty-five, but Ellen always brings out the teasing, angsty teen in me. “And I’m sure you didn’t do anything to encourage the wind to whisper in your ear.”
A tremor works through the earth, calling us to attention.
We turn to face our high priestess, Lady Ariana.
My relationship with her has become so much warmer since the final battle with the Witch Hunters.
Something in her shifted, like she gave herself permission to be more than just my high priestess, but my grandma, too.
“Come on,” Mom says, shooing Ellen and me toward the ring of witches forming around Lady Ariana. “It’s time to welcome in the new season.”
In more ways than one, I think as I make a direct line for Morgan, holding her hand in mine as we join the coven’s circle and greet the summer.
* * *
“What do you mean, laid off ?”
The hard chair beneath me is making my ass go numb as the temperature in the office dips colder with each incredulous beat of my heart. This is not how I expected to spend my Monday morning.
Across from me, sitting behind a wide wooden desk, the HR manager maintains a placid expression. “This is not a reflection on the quality of your work, Miss Walsh. With the shifting AI landscape?—”
“You’d rather let a computer steal from existing artists than pay actual humans to create something new,” I finish for him with a glare.
He isn’t moved by my assertions, though he does shiver as the air continues to chill. “It’s just not financially feasible in this market to maintain your position.”
“Will clients know they’re paying top dollar for AI knock-offs?” I force myself to release the air before it’s cold enough to see our exhales as puffs of white inside the office.
The HR manager, whose name I never bothered to learn and certainly won’t bother to figure out now, merely folds his hands on top of the desk. “That’s not my department.”
“Of course it’s not. I’m surprised you didn’t have a chatbot deliver this news for you.”
“We can give you up to a month to finish your current projects, and then you’ll get six weeks of severance pay,” he continues, ignoring my jab. He slides a thin manilla folder across the table. “It’s all laid out in here.”
I don’t bother opening it. “Do I still get the severance pay if I leave now?” It’s not ideal, but I can’t stomach the thought of creating anything else for these people to feed into whatever AI program they’ve invested in.
Finally, I think I’ve shaken something loose with this guy. He blinks at me a few times, head cocked to the side. The effect is owlish. “Technically, yes, but?—”
“Great. I’ll pack up my desk and be gone before lunch.”
* * *
By the time I’m loading my car with a box of trinkets and snacks from my desk, a lightness has settled around my shoulders.
I wouldn’t have chosen to get laid off today, but now that it’s happened, my future feels suddenly clear.
AI might be edging into corporate culture, but the novelists I work with believe in the importance of human -created art. There will always be a market for what I do.
Besides, drawing hot queers making out is way more fun than crafting yet another corporate logo or putting together a rebrand to take a company from navy blue to slate gray.
And then there’s Cal’s offer…
Instead of going home early, I head for Morgan’s favorite Thai place and pick up our usual order. Red curry for her and Pad Thai for me. After a quick check of our shared calendar to confirm where she’s working this afternoon, I had into downtown Salem to meet her at the bookstore.
Bells chime above me as I step through the door, and I’m greeted by Morgan’s surprised smile.
She’s busy ringing out a customer—which gives me flashbacks to my own days working retail—so I raise the bag of takeout in salute before slipping into the stacks to browse the store’s impressive romance collection.
After a few minutes, the bells chime, signaling the departure of the customer, and Morgan is at my side a literal second later thanks to her Blood Magic.
“This is a surprise,” she says, reaching for my free hand. “You don’t usually get a chance to sneak away for lunch.”
With a quick glance to make sure we’re alone in the store, I lean in for a kiss. “Do you have time for a quick lunch break? I brought your favorite.”
Morgan inhales deep, a smile spreading across her features. “Red curry? No mushrooms?” When I nod, she shimmies her shoulders with delight. “Let me see if River is done with their break. One sec.”
She slips away, and a flutter of nerves settles in my stomach.
I’m ninety-nine percent sure Morgan will be happy with the unexpected direction my morning has taken, but that lingering one percent worries that she’ll panic.
She won’t be angry , but she might worry, and I don’t want to be the cause of her distress.
Before I can spiral too much, River, the nonbinary forty-something who owns the bookstore, settles behind the register. Morgan waves to me from the Staff Only door, and I head toward her with our lunch heavy in my hands.
“So,” Morgan prompts as we sit down. “What has your heart beating so fast? Did something happen?”
I pull our food from the paper bag before responding. The steamy, spicy goodness spreads through the air between us. “You know how I was hesitant about Cal’s offer because I didn’t want to disrupt things with my job?”
“That was one of the reasons. Yeah.” Morgan raises her eyebrows at me as she pops the top off her curry.
“Well, that’s not a problem anymore.” I mirror her, opening my container of Pad Thai and squeezing the wedge of lemon over the top. “Because I… kinda, sorta… got laid off. Effective immediately.”
“You— Oh.” Morgan reaches for my hand, her touch warm and soothing. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”
“Fine, I think. Maybe even a little excited.” I stir the pocket of crushed peanuts into the noodles, chicken, and veggies. “I don’t know if I’ll enjoy the whole teaching thing, but… I think I want to try. Do you still want to go to Scotland?”
The grin that lights up her face is brighter than any fire. “I’d love to.” Morgan pulls me to my feet, cups my face in her hands, and kisses me. Slow. Thorough. Claiming. My blood sings with her love and her excitement and her passion.
I may not know everything that happens next, but as long as we’re together, I trust that we can figure it out.