Chapter Four Lyra
I was getting tired of being the one everyone made excuses for.
After the Charms meeting, where we weren’t able to come up with any solution for the darkness that now shrouded Briarhaven, I needed a moment to myself.
Stepping outside to my wee garden, I took a deep breath, and then another, allowing the soft scents of damp earth and herbs to soothe me.
Aside from the kitchen, my garden was my happy space, a place where I could work in peace—where nobody was judging me.
Between the Charms, the watchful eyes of Briarhaven, and my YouTube channel, I had very few spaces in my life that weren’t open to outside scrutiny.
It had been a few weeks since my birthday.
And somehow, my magick hadn’t managed to manifest. At least not that any of us could see.
We’d tried it all: levitation, freezing, transmutation, healing, and so on.
But nothing had worked. It was like my magick was stuck, buried deep inside me, and somehow unable to stretch its wings to fly.
I felt it. I knew it was there. My magick hummed beneath my skin, but no matter how many times I reached for it, I couldn’t quite manage to use it in a spell.
Broca assured me, over and over, that some witches were late bloomers when it came to their powers.
I was just frustrated, and frankly, a bit gutted.
I’d been so excited for my birthday, and ready to step into my new powers, and now, with the Charms unable to hold off the next iteration of our curse, I felt more like a failure than ever before.
Maybe it was true. Maybe I was just a pretty face, as much as the thought made my stomach turn, but at the moment, I wasn’t bringing much else to the table. Certainly not any magickal powers that could actually help Briarhaven, that was for certain.
Sighing, I bent to examine my garden in the dim light of the lantern hung outside the back door and pulled back, blinking in confusion.
All the weeds were gone, the brambles neatly trimmed back, and a neat pile of cucumbers had been pulled and stacked for me.
“What on earth?” I murmured, tilting my head in confusion. Picking up one of the cucumbers, I examined the end. It had been evenly sliced, not torn from the root, and cut with precision.
If it’s not harvested to your satisfaction, I, of course, can do so differently.
I dropped the cucumber and shrieked as a ball of lavender sparkles fluttered in front of my face. Warding my face with my hands, I ducked as the back door swung open.
“What’s the problem, Sparklefarts?”
“Glitterbug! Glitterbug!” I shrieked, racing to the back door where Nova stood, gaping at me.
“What’s a glitterbug?” Nova asked, grabbing my arm.
“I don’t knooooow,” I wailed, not a huge fan of bugs, or really anything that flew at my face unannounced.
I wasn’t told you would be so dramatic.
I blinked as the glitterbug slowed its movements and came to rest on a fence post.
“You’re not a bug,” I said, stating the obvious, as Nova and I gaped at the new arrival standing on our fence, small sword raised in the air.
“She also comes with weapons,” Nova observed.
It seems your basic observational skills are working. The creature rolled her eyes, and I started, realizing that I was hearing her voice in my head.
“Can you hear her?” I turned to Nova, whose eyes widened. Slowly she shook her head.
“She’s absolutely enchanting,” I breathed, now that I’d had time to adjust to the new arrival.
She was essentially a lavender-colored mouse, with sparkly fur, and on her back were the most gloriously intricate golden wings.
They looked like lace come to life, butterfly wings encased in gold, and she shook them out as she padded across the top rail of the fence toward us, sheathing her sword.
“Hello, gorgeous,” I whispered, holding out my palm.
She lifted her head and then took my invitation, fluttering over to land in my palm. I gave Nova a look like I was dying inside from the cuteness of it all, as she stood and saluted me with a paw to her forehead.
“What are you, sweet thing?” I asked. I was certain I’d never before seen such a creature equally as enchanting as she was fierce.
I’m a fluttermouse. Her voice was soft, like gentle wind chimes in a spring breeze.
“I can hear her,” I said, turning to look at Nova. “She says she’s a fluttermouse.”
“And she’s armed. Even better.” Nova nodded her approval.
“Do you want to come in and meet the family?” I asked her, dying for Broca to take a look and tell me if this was what I thought it was. Hope bloomed and I blinked down at the wee gorgeous fluttermouse, my heart hammering.
Had my familiar finally arrived? I’d been aching for one, but unlike when Blue was ready for Sloane right on her birthday, I hadn’t been gifted a familiar.
Broca had informed me that sometimes it took time for the magickal world to find the right fit, and that the right one found you at just the right time.
But thus far, not a single magickal creature had approached me.
Until now, that is.
Aye, it’s important that I meet your people.
A smile tugged the corners of my lips as the wee fluttermouse nodded.
I gave Nova a look—Can you believe how cute she is?
—and then stepped back inside, where Sloane was busy slicing off thin scraps of cheese for Blue to chase around the room and Broca had settled back into her lounge chair, ready to gossip about the Charms meeting.
“Look! Look who I found in the garden!” I said, all but bouncing in my heels, and held out my hands so Broca and Sloane could see. Blue launched himself from the counter, but Sloane was quick and plucked him from the air before he could dive-bomb me and the new arrival.
But I want to see.
Shock filled me as I glanced over at Blue.
“Was that Blue? Did I just hear him too?” The voice had been very different from the fluttermouse’s, and wonder made me a touch giddy. Was my magick finally coming in?
“I’m not sure. Blue, tell Lyra a joke.”
What do witches put on their bagels?
Blue looked at me expectantly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.
“I have no idea? Lox?”
Scream cheese.
Blue chuffed out his little laughing sound, and I couldn’t help it, I laughed too.
He’s quite proud of himself, isn’t he?
I looked down to see the fluttermouse peering up at Blue, but with an indulgent expression on her face. It was true. I could hear both of their distinct voices in my head now. Excitement washed through me, making me just a touch dizzy, and I dragged in a deep breath to calm myself.
“Do you have a name? What should I call you? I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Lyra.” I held the fluttermouse up to my face so she could look into my eyes. “And this is Nova, Sloane, Blue, and Broca.”
Pleased to meet you. I’m Ruth.
The fluttermouse stood in my palm and gave a little curtsy.
“Oh, her name’s Ruth. That’s a grand name, isn’t it? You’re just gorgeous, aren’t you?” I couldn’t take my eyes off her shimmering wings. They looked incredibly delicate, like thin gold threads spun together, an intricate spiderweb of lace, and I couldn’t imagine how they’d hold her weight.
Thank you. So are you, it seems. We match, don’t we?
Ruth twirled in my palm, and I realized she was comparing her fur to the unique color of my eyes. For some reason, having a matching familiar made something click inside me. Like finding a missing piece of a puzzle.
“Are you… are you mine?” I whispered, barely able to contain my excitement.
Aye, lass. I’m yours. And it’s glad I am to finally be with you.
“She’s mine,” I said, bouncing up and down in glee and then gasped when Ruth went flying from my hand. She caught herself and took flight, and Blue squirmed out of Sloane’s arms, meeting the fluttermouse midair.
“Blue, careful…” I lunged forward, but no warning was needed.
Blue sniffed Ruth and then gave her a delicate “boop” with his nose before the two took off in a fun game of chase.
Ruth flew like a butterfly, darting in all directions, while Blue waddled after her like wobbly pigeon just learning to fly.
I just stood, hand at my heart, in awe of the both of them as they wheeled in circles around the living room.
“A fluttermouse,” I breathed, turning in excitement to Broca. “I’ve never even heard of such a thing.”
Iris flapped her wings from above, and Ruth raised her sword.
Is she…?
“Och, that’s Iris. Broca’s familiar. She’s fine.” I gave Broca a look, and Broca waved a finger in Iris’s direction.
“She’ll not harm the wee one, I promise.”
“Her coloring is gorgeous,” Nova said, sketch pad already in hand. “Those wings…”
“Look how she sparkles,” I gasped as Ruth flew beneath the beam of light from a lamp and both her wings and fur glimmered in the light. “Do you see? She sparkles.”
“A sparkly gift for Sparklefarts.” Nova smirked.
Ruth darted across the room and bopped Nova on the forehead with one wee paw, and I gasped.
“Ruth!”
She’s being quite rude.
“She’s just joking. I promise. It’s fine.”
“Okay, okay.” Nova held her hands up gently, her tone soothing, as she kept her eyes trained on the tiny assassin fluttering in front of her. “I’m sorry. I’ll retire that nickname. I like your attitude, Ruth. Small but fierce.”
“It appears you shouldn’t underestimate her,” I said, my heart warming.
Ruth flitted back, landing on my shoulder, and nestled into the crook at my neck.
Reaching up, I stroked a finger over her silky fur and smiled.
Her weight was light, barely noticeable, and yet her small body hummed with energy.
“This is quite a welcome arrival. It supports the research I’ve been doing on your magick, Lyra. Did you know that fluttermice come from the Hebrides and are born from a very specific sect of witches?” Broca’s lips twitched when my eyes widened.
“Does that mean—”
“Aye, lass. Ruth’s arrival supports my suspicions. I know what your magick is.”
“You do?” I bounced and then caught Ruth as she tumbled from my neck with a squeak. “Oh my goddess. Ruth. I’m sorry. Sorry! I am not used to having you there.”