Chapter Two
I know what you’re thinking: does this witch hate herself?
I dragged myself out of bed at the crack of dawn, uncaring of the noise that echoed through the Reverie household, because Mum was already at work and my sister, Rani, was away at MAC studying magical bookkeeping.
On my way out, I grabbed one of the croissants I’d made early in the week – not charmed or enchanted, yet, and made my way to Main Street.
The street ran through the centre of Maple Falls and was marked by a tall clock tower.
Every secret magical town has a portal – a way of travelling to and from without needing to reveal ourselves to the mortal world. Maple Falls’ was the clock tower.
Later today, Main Street would be bustling with activity.
The bake sale was the annual fundraising event for the Fallen Leaves Festival, which would be happening next month.
The festival marked the moment when the leaves of the Firewood Forest that surrounded the town would turn a brilliant gold, before shedding and welcoming the winter.
It was a night full of warm drinks, fun stalls and the best doorstep-thick apple-pie slices charmed by Ivy to keep everyone warm well into the night.
For the fall bake sale, the clock tower had been wrapped in purple wisteria enchanted to remain fresh by Flora’s Flowers, a shop run by faerie triplets.
Bunting was strung up between lamp posts, and stalls lined either side of the street that were slowly being filled with various goods.
Spotting Ivy, I beelined to the stall where my boss stood.
‘Morning, sunshine,’ Ivy said when she saw me, her voice filled with a little too much cheer for this early in the morning. Her star-shaped glasses were a cool purple colour, her cheekbones glittered with iridescent purple highlighter that made the burnished brown of her skin glow.
‘Morning, Ivy,’ I parroted back, trying to infuse my voice with the same enthusiasm but failing miserably.
Most of the time, we matched each other’s energy perfectly.
But when you’ve had maybe four hours of sleep, and you feel like the inside of your head is made more of cotton than brain, cheeriness is a difficult emotion to emulate.
If Ivy noticed my change in demeanour, she didn’t let on. She was too distracted by ensuring everything from the bakery was in the right place.
‘Tell me where you need me,’ I offered, catching her flighty gaze.
Ivy gave me a grateful look and with a flick of her wrist, she made a box of doughnuts from her stall levitate towards me.
The show of effortless, spell-less magic almost made me jealous.
Unlike my mum and sister, my magic proficiency started and ended with my kitchen magic.
Anything more complicated usually ended in disaster for me.
‘Take these doughnuts to that stall there. Remember, the custard doughnuts are enchanted with a spell intended to soothe any pressing worries, and the lemon-jam ones are for those who want to add a little brightness to their day.’
‘Understood,’ I said, eyeing the doughnut box that was now nestled in my hands.
‘Good.’ Ivy grinned and then reached out to give my shoulder a squeeze. ‘And don’t think I forgot, assistant-of-mine! I’ll make sure to get an accurate count of how many people buy your dreamweaver shortbread.’
In the wave of disappointment following my spectacular failure last night, I had entirely forgotten that one of my creations would be shared with Maple Falls residents today. Ivy’s enthusiasm warmed something inside me, and, for the first time since the night before, I felt a little excited.
I made my way to the stall and placed the box down, before muttering a spell under my breath.
‘Align, arrange and set in order, fill this doughnut case from edge to corner.’
One by one, the doughnuts slid perfectly into place in the case.
When the last one found its spot, I felt the tension in my shoulders loosen.
An organizational spell like that was meant to be easy, taught to witches at a young age.
It wasn’t like the more complicated spells – summoning or healing – or anything that required enchanting or charming someone.
But still it was difficult not to feel that gnawing worry that I was going to cast the spell wrong, especially after last night.
The morning slipped by as Ivy and I finished setting up the stall, spoke about ideas for next week’s menu and what bakes I was cooking up in my culinary magic classes.
Before I knew it, it was time for the bake sale to officially start, and the townsfolk were eager as ever to show their enthusiasm. Soon, I was attending to a line that winded all the way down Main Street.
As the morning went on, my sour mood lifted and I lost myself in the easy repetition of selling the doughnuts, taking money and making small talk. I even served Inspector Vale, who I was pleased to see appeared none the wiser about my late-night excursion.
It was hitting noon, and the line in front of our stall had finally dwindled, when I felt someone familiar sidle up beside me.
‘So, nothing’s changed?’ Raven asked, looking at me warily.
‘Yes, Raven,’ I said patiently, keeping my voice levelled as I replenished our stock. ‘I woke up this morning just like I went to bed last night: still soulmate-less.’
‘But your charmed bakes always work,’ she countered, holding a coffee cup from our local café, Charmed Chief Inspector Hawthorne took over the detective agency; and they had kids and fell more in love with each other every day.
I knew, because I got to witness it first-hand every time I went over to see Raven.
‘She definitely will,’ Raven agreed, before continuing on. ‘But like I was saying, we can’t afford to be getting into any trouble before I leave.’
That ache in my chest blossomed again. Raven leaving was another reminder of just how lonely I was going to be next year.
Soulmate-less, best-friend-less. I was already semi-sister-less given that Rani was at MAC most of the year.
So, when Raven leaves, it’ll just be me and my mother, for the first time.
‘You look constipated,’ Raven said, half laughing, half worried.
‘Only emotionally,’ I attempted to joke, but it didn’t get past my best friend.
But before she could press, a delicate cough had me whipping back around to the front of the stall, pasting a grin on my face when I turned to face the waiting customer. ‘Granny Fable! Welcome! Can I get you a doughnut for your worries or for a brighter day?’
Granny Fable was part-owner of the local apothecary, Fable & Frost – she ran the shop with her best friend, an elderly pixie named Frost. Everyone called her Granny, and no one entirely knew why.
Maybe because she was an old lady who always wore a fluffy cardigan and had powdery white skin, the lightest blue eyes and white faerie wings that she never kept strapped to her back like some of the more recent fashions.
Something about her screamed comfort, warmth and grandmother.
No one would ever suspect her of being the town’s most nefarious gossip.
‘A brighter day, my dear,’ Granny Fable said, her hand resting on the bejewelled cane she had taken to walking with. She turned to a girl beside her that I didn’t recognize.