12. Ever So Charming
Ever So Charming
SPARROW BLACKBURNE
Inside the bookstore, Sparrow Blackburne attempted to regain her composure. She asked the younger witch to point her in the direction of the shop’s restroom and hurried away. Once safely out of sight, Sparrow leaned against the closed door and took several steadying deep breaths.
“Why did I say that?” she whispered into the empty restroom. “What in the goddess’s name was I thinking?”
She squeezed her eyes closed. One hand settled over her rapidly beating heart as she tried to calm herself.
Something about the pretty little witch had made her more assertive than usual.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true—Sparrow exerted the same assertiveness at work, especially with unruly library patrons and rude people.
But why would this cotton candy witch cause her to channel that same energy? Was it the way those hazel eyes turned a little bit darker when Sparrow gave her a command? Or the way those bubblegum pink lips puckered as she rushed to complete the task as assigned?
Her head hit the wooden door with a thud as she looked to the sky, the moon, for answers.
Even here, in the restrooms, fresh flowers bloomed under Fern’s care, giving the space a soft, sweet scent that immediately reminded Sparrow of the lavender-haired witch waiting for her on the other side of this door.
The whole time that they had been setting up the decorations at the front of the store, she had struggled to keep her focus on the job at hand.
Instead, Sparrow found herself constantly drawn back to the flowing purple waves of Fern’s hair and the soft green of her cozy knitted sweater.
The cool tones suited her nicely, bringing out the warmth in her eyes and the pink in her cheeks.
“Get it together, Blackburne,” she hissed, meeting her own eyes in the mirror.
It seemed as though the recent dreams involving the pretty young witch had affected Sparrow more than she realized.
She wondered if there was more to it than coincidence—something that dream witches did not believe in, as a general rule.
Things rarely happened on accident, a truth that she had seen proven time and again over her life of dream scrying and tarot reading.
Ever since her premonition about Fern falling from the ladder, Sparrow had found the witch appearing in her dreams. Again and again, like a sign from the goddess, or an angel number repeated wherever she looked.
Was there something more at play here than just their small-town dynamics? She shook her head.
“Feeling better?” asked Fern as she approached.
The younger witch sat in a high-backed leather chair, sipping ice water from a thermal tumbler.
The flush to her cheeks had lightened some, more of a soft blush than the flamed cheeks of someone deeply embarrassed.
Perhaps Sparrow was not the only one feeling a little off kilter from their time together, she realized.
“Yes. The candles?” Sparrow asked.
“Over here,” replied the younger witch, hopping from her seat to show her a stack of three large cardboard boxes. “We’ve got string to suspend them and battery-powered candles, too.”
She nodded. The sleeve of Fern’s cardigan brushed against her arm as she leaned down to inspect the supplies for their next project. A shiver worked its way up her spine. “How are you still wearing that sweater in this heat?”
“What?” squeaked Fern, glancing down.
Then, to Sparrow’s absolute horror, the pretty purple-haired witch unbuttoned the cardigan and peeled it off her shoulders, draping it over a nearby chair.
Underneath, she wore a lace-trimmed tank top with a pastel floral pattern.
Pink and purple flowers, green leaves, bursts of yellow at the center.
Textured, like it had been hand-stitched into the fabric.
Alarm bells sounded in her head as Sparrow turned swiftly toward the front of the store.
At the same moment, she caught sight of a deep orange sweater and bright ginger hair—Lark and Bramble stepped through the front doors, setting off the little bell.
Oh, thank the goddess, Sparrow thought, relieved.
“We’re back!” sang her twin in a bright, cheery voice. “Sorry for the delay! We had a bit of a photoshoot at the pumpkin patch. Couldn’t resist!”
“You can hardly blame her. This fur? In the early morning light?” Bramble said with all the air of a model.
The chill fall wind came in with them, and Fern quickly put her cardigan back on. Sparrow frowned. But the strange tension between the two of them had snapped the moment that Lark had skipped back into the bookstore, so she supposed that would be the end of it.
Instead, her sister decided to make everything a thousand times worse.
“So Fern, tell me,” said Lark loudly, pretending to be helping Sparrow unbox the candles. “Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner?”
The pretty young witch blushed furiously, opening and closing her mouth several times without managing to answer.
“Only me for a partner, I’m afraid,” Bramble chimed in helpfully.
“Really? Such a lovely witch and no beau to speak of?” continued Lark, eyeing Fern.
“N-no,” answered Fern, her voice a bit shaky.
“When was the last time you went out on a date, dear?” asked Lark in a cheeky smile.
“Oh, goddess, I can’t remember,” began the purple-haired witch, closing her eyes.
Beside her, her familiar spoke up again. “It has been two years and three months since my little witchling went on a date.”
“Bramble!” Fern hissed.
“Have you somehow had a date without my knowledge, dear girl?” he quipped back.
Her sigh of exasperation nearly made Sparrow laugh. Their dynamic felt so similar to that of her and Lark, it was almost comical. A thought struck her then: could those two be up to something? Her eyes narrowed on her sister’s sparkling green eyes.
“That’s unacceptable! We shall need to remedy that post-haste,” insisted Lark, the smile in her voice entirely evident. “Say, what is your type? Do you date men, or women, or both?”
“That’s quite enough,” Sparrow glared at her sister, knowing how meddlesome she could be.
“She dates mostly women, though it’s more about the emotional connection than their gender,” supplied Bramble helpfully, his smile full of mirth.
Fern buried her face in her palms, her ears turning a particularly bright shade of pink that seemed to have traveled up from her cheeks. The poor little witch looked absolutely mortified. Yes, thought Sparrow with a new-found certainty. Those two are definitely up to something.
“But how will I help her if I don’t know even the basic, most crucial information?” whined Lark. “Surely sweet Fern wouldn’t mind answering just a few more harmless little questions.”
This time, it was Sparrow who sighed with exasperation. “Please do not feel obligated to play along, little witch.”
“It’s nearly October! The most magical time of the year,” interrupted Bramble with a sly smile. “Wouldn’t you like to go on cozy autumn dates, drinking apple cider and cuddling on a hayride?”
One hazel eye peeked out from between her fingers, then the other. “That does sound lovely.”
“Have you ever been to the Pumpkin Festival with a significant other, Fern dear?” Lark asked.
“No,” whispered the purple-haired witch, shaking her head.
“We should find you a date!” continued Lark. “Oh, darling, there’s nothing more magical than riding the Ferris wheel after all the twinkling lights come on, sharing a kiss at the top with the whole town spread out below you.”
Sparrow glanced back and forth between the grinning cat and her extremely happy sister, realizing at last what it was that they were playing at.
She closed her eyes and willed herself not to react.
The sneaky, sly little schemers had most certainly planned this and hoped that she would ask out Fern Appleton.
Sure enough, Lark winked at her. Those green eyes glimmered with mischief as she inclined her head toward the pretty young witch, raising one eyebrow suggestively.
“And what do you look for in a partner, dearest?” asked Lark next.
“I…well, I suppose…,” murmured Fern, glancing away from them all. “Someone who is kind, thoughtful, and confident. I’m obviously not very confident in myself, so I find it especially attractive.”
“Anything else?” Her sister exchanged another glance with the talking cat as she spoke.
Fern seemed to really think this over before answering. “I would like to be with someone who makes me feel beautiful. Adored. I don’t know how to search for that, though.”
“As you should, my darling!” Lark cooed sweetly. “So, you prefer someone confident and attentive, then?”
“Taller than her, too,” added Bramble with a chuckle.
Lark tapped her finger to her chin as if thinking very hard. “Gee, I wonder where we would find someone fitting that description? Have you had your eye on anyone in particular recently?”
Despite herself, Sparrow found herself waiting with bated breath for the purple-haired witch to answer.
While Lark and Bramble were being absolutely zero percent subtle, it seemed that the younger witch had not caught on to their plot just yet.
Would she answer honestly? Had she been hoping that someone would ask her out? Her thoughts swirled.
“Oh, no, not really,” mumbled Fern nervously.
Her familiar cleared his throat ever-so-politely. “But if someone were to ask her to the Pumpkin Festival next weekend, she would most certainly be available.”
“How wonderful! Shall we make a list of potential dates?” Lark grinned as she spoke.
Something squeezed at Sparrow’s heart at those words. Something a little like—jealousy? The idea of her pretty little witch in the arms of some other witch, dancing under the full moon in that yellow dress, felt unacceptable. Wrong. She hesitated.
“Don’t go to any trouble on my behalf, please, Miss Blackburne,” Fern replied, holding up both hands placatingly.
“Nonsense! I know several eligible young witches who ought to be well-suited for you,” replied Lark in her sweetest tone. “Why, there’s Ember Ellington, who was in our grade at school. She works nights at the post office, sorting the mail for the delivery witch.”
“Or Briony Croft, the elementary school teacher,” Bramble added.
“Oh, yes!” Lark clapped her hands in delight. “She is ever so pretty and ever so charming.”
“What about that handsome young fellow, Bellamy Moonacre?” asked the cat, glancing at Fern.
“He is rather attractive and tall,” agreed Lark with a smile.
Sparrow nearly choked at the mention of the male witch a year younger than herself and Lark, with hardly any personality to speak of. The thought of sweet, adorable Fern dating someone like Bellamy was entirely laughable. She would be bored to tears with someone like that—wouldn’t she?
Sparrow tried to picture them together in her mind. The dark-haired witch with his square jaw and his bland personality sitting across the dinner table from bright, joyful, effervescent Fern Appleton. Her soft smile and her hazel eyes focused on him as he told her about his day. She snorted.
“Do you have a suggestion, sister dearest?” Lark flashed her a wicked little grin. “Someone who could sweep our darling little Fern right off her feet and woo her sweetly?”
The temptation to snap at her meddlesome twin roared to life, but one nervous glance from the pretty purple-haired witch beside her quelled it.
Sparrow swallowed hard, trying desperately to come up with something to say.
All eyes were on her as she ran a hand through her dark hair, from her temple down the back of her head.
“They wouldn’t be well-suited to her,” managed Sparrow at last.
“You think not? Well, perhaps we ought to do a reading, instead!” quipped Lark with a saucy wink at her twin.
“Please do not subject her to your matchmaking schemes, sister,” she tried again.
“A tarot reading?” asked Bramble excitedly. “Why, it has been ages! Let’s do it.”
A pretty pink and green deck appeared out of thin air into Lark’s hands and she shuffled them effortlessly. Fern appeared thoroughly conflicted—like she might want the answers the dream witch could provide, but despised being the center of attention.
Her cheeks turned that delicate shade of pink again, spreading up her face and ears, and Sparrow hesitated.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, her voice brooking no argument.
“Whyever not, dearest?” asked Lark in that sugary -sweet tone she only used when she knew exactly what was actually happening.
Bramble flicked his fluffy black-and-white tail. “Do you have a better idea?”
Her eyes flicked to the purple-haired witch, who sat frozen. “Would you…would you go to the Pumpkin Festival with me, Little Witch?”
“Ah, how lovely!” Lark squealed, clapping her hands in pure delight.
“Well, well, well,” said the familiar from where he sat beside his witch. “By the goddess, what a surprise.”
Only Fern remained silent, staring wide-eyed at Sparrow as if she couldn’t quite process the words that had been spoken. She blinked rapidly, then shook her head as if to clear it. Sparrow tried not to cringe as the silence stretched out between them.
“I-I’m sorry, I think I heard you incorrectly,” Fern said at last.
“You did not. I would like for you to accompany me to the Pumpkin Festival next weekend, Fern Appleton,” Sparrow managed to keep her voice steady, though her heart raced.
“Me? You want to go with me?” asked the pretty young witch, clearly in disbelief.
“Very much so,” she spoke softly, holding Fern’s gaze.
Cheers erupted from Bramble and Lark, both of whom looked entirely too pleased with themselves for Sparrow’s liking. Still, she held her breath as she waited for the witch to answer her.
“Yes,” breathed Fern, her voice so quiet Sparrow nearly missed it.
With that, her blue eyes darted away from the purple-haired witch. She refused to meet the eyes of her twin or the familiar and quickly realized it would be hard to accomplish any of this project without speaking to any of them. Oh, goddess, what have I done? She wondered.
Instead, Sparrow bolted out the front of the bookstore, muttering something about second coffee to power them through the rest of the day.