Chapter 21 #2
They lingered while the stars came out, each witch drifting into their own quiet meditation, visualizing their own specific intentions.
After the circle was sent upward into the universe, Magda sat at the edge of the clearing, Wally snuggled in her lap, staring up at the sky.
She couldn’t help thinking of one scientist back in New York who smelled like rosemary and reason.
The morning after the ritual, daylight wrapped the mountain in indigo shadows and soft, warm air. The witches drifted back toward their normal moods, but less stressed and glowing from the magic. They moved like women who finally had permission to breathe.
Inside, the mansion felt almost comatose. The walls didn’t hum, lanterns were dimmed to amber, and the hearth in the main room extinguished without anyone touching it. For once, the house seemed content.
So did the witches. The only emotions were warmth, peace, and the rare kind of quiet that only arrived after a powerful ritual. Especially since they knew this time was their sacred sabbatical from responsibility.
Joell padded toward the stairs, already flipping open her laptop. “All right,” she declared, “I’m going to write my hero into a corner and then force him to emotionally grow his way out.”
Crowe met her on the stairs, his arms braced on the banister. “That’s oddly specific.”
Joell smirked. “Romance isn’t for sissies.”
Lioness swept toward her studio, trailing fabric swatches and purpose. “My lovers are about to reunite under a blood moon and argue about destiny. Wish me combustible chemistry.”
Brianna carried a stack of journals toward her room. “Time-travel lovers separated by near death. Again. Because apparently, I’m consistent.”
Rayna collapsed onto the main sofa, tossing her sword onto the rug. “I’m writing the smuttiest fight scene imaginable,” she said. “Lots of violence, lots of kissing, and absolutely no waiting for Payne to text me. I’m very evolved now.”
Sahara held up her tablet. “I’m writing cozy witch lit. No chaos, no disasters, no emotional train-wrecks.”
Everyone stared.
Sahara rolled her eyes. “Fine. Minimal emotional roller coasters.”
Wally hopped into Magda’s arms, purring like a malfunctioning motorboat. Magda scratched between his ears. “I promised myself I’d write today,” she whispered, “but I’m stuck between writing a romantic breakthrough and documenting the chemistry behind Potion #5.”
Wally blinked slowly, encouragingly, like a furry therapist who got paid in snacks.
Magda sighed. “You’re right. Writing first, while the motivation lasts. Science later.”
She curled up in the parlor’s loveseat near the window, notebook open, pen ready. The mountain view stretched endlessly, a ripple of blues and greens fading into woods. Peaceful. Inspiring. Exactly what she needed.
She wrote one sentence. Then crossed it out. Then wrote another. Crossed that out too.
She blew out a frustrated breath. “Ugh. Why is it easier to blow up a greenhouse than write a love scene?”
Her phone buzzed.
One message from Chad to the whole group.
Magda blinked. Chad never texted during their sabbatical unless it was absolutely necessary or mildly catastrophic. She opened it.
All good here. There is absolutely nothing wrong. Do not worry. Everyone is safe.
Still, if you have a moment this week, I may need some very tiny, minor witch assistance. Not urgent. Not dangerous. Probably fine.
Enjoy Tennessee!
Magda stared.
Rayna peeked around the corner into the lounge. “He typed ‘not dangerous.’ That means something caught fire.”
“Or escaped,” Brianna added from the next room.
Lioness called from the hallway, “Or multiplied!”
Sahara and the rest of the witches found their way into the front room, frowning at the wording. “He separated ‘tiny’ from ‘minor.’ Suspicious. Very suspicious.”
Magda reread the message, pulse picking up. “Should we call him?”
“No,” Joell said firmly. “This is our week off. PMDD law is clear.”
Brianna burst out laughing. “That’s why they’ve broken our ‘law’ twice since I’ve been with you.”
“That last one was on me.” Joell sighed. “But honestly, some of those hunky kidnapped models were on our book covers! How could we not help them?”
Rayna nodded. “Usually, we relax, we hydrate, we write smut, and we don’t answer the phone unless the world is ending.”
Brianna sipped her coffee. “And if the world were ending, he’d send a second text in all caps.”
The mansion hummed in agreement.
Wally climbed onto Magda’s lap, planted a wheat stalk there, and flopped dramatically. She took that to mean, ‘Do not get up. Do not worry. Do not ruin the vibe.’
Magda stroked his fur. “Okay. One week of peace. Then we’ll go home and see what disaster he’s hiding behind polite punctuation.”
Outside, the mountain breeze whispered through the pines. Inside, the witches settled into their various creative corners, pages turning, keys clacking, imagination stirring.
Magda opened her notebook again. This time, she wrote a single sentence. He smelled like rosemary and reason.
And she didn’t cross it out.
Almost a week later, the mansion thudded back onto Long Island soil with the self-satisfied grunt of a giant settling into its favorite chair. The witches drifted into the foyer like dreamy, loose-limbed, glowing women returning from a weeklong spa sabbatical.
Crystal stretched. “Home sweet barely-regulated magical infrastructure.”
Rayna cracked her neck. “And no got killed, kidnapped, or possessed this quarter. I’m counting that as a win.”
Wally hopped through the doorway in a slow wobble, still half-asleep. Magda scooped him up, smoothing his fur. “You can nap as soon as we check the greenhouse, little man.”
The front door opened, and Chad entered. He cleared his throat. “Library. Now.” He only used the academic doom-voice when the news was dire. The witches exchanged looks, then filed into the library.
Chad stood at the head of the long table. He looked exhausted, rumpled, and vaguely traumatized. “Well,” he said, “we have a situation.”
Rayna dropped into her chair immediately. “Thank the Goddess. I was worried we wouldn’t.”
Joell crossed her arms. “Report.”
Chad inhaled deeply. “It’s Sebastian. He’s… not doing well.”
Magda’s eyes widened. “Not doing well, how?”
“He’s been crying.” Chad winced. “A lot. Since you left for Tennessee. He told the University he had the flu and called in sick for the entire week.”
Crystal frowned. “Is he actually sick?”
“No.” Chad rubbed his forehead. “He’s emotionally compromised to an alarming degree. Yesterday, he cried at a commercial for dish soap.”
Brianna perked up. “Which one? The one with the ducklings?”
“Yes,” Chad said hollowly. “But still…”
Magda’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Oh, I know,” Chad said. “But he’s been brewing love-adjacent concoctions with you for a while. Tiny amplifiers, attraction microdoses, Variation #5…” He waved a hand. “The man’s emotional field is basically a romantic tuning fork.”
Sahara snorted. “Clocked over the head by affection.”
“Exactly,” Chad said. “He tried to grade papers and burst into tears over a metaphor about moss.”
“Moss is very resilient,” Magda whispered.
“It wasn’t that resilient,” Chad muttered. “And he’s been charting his symptoms. In graphs. There’s a line plot labeled ‘yearning amplitude’. I didn’t even know yearning could have amplitude.”
Joell groaned. “Magda, sweetie. You made the man quantify longing.”
Chad held up a finger. “Which is why I called you in here. We need a counterspell. A cooling effect. Something grounding. A—”
“A chill pill?” Rayna suggested.
Chad sagged in relief. “Yes. That. All of you may need to contribute, but Magda and Sebastian have to make it together. He only responds well to her.”
Magda froze. “Me?”
“His assistant brought soup,” Chad said. “He cried into it. I tried motivational speaking. He cried because I referenced the weather. He doesn’t even like musicals, and he cried at the lyrics of Tomorrow from Annie.”
Lioness blinked. “He doesn’t like musicals?”
“No,” Chad said flatly. “But the point is, he’s too emotionally unstable for anyone else to help. You two brewed the problem together; you two have to fix it together.”
Sahara nodded thoughtfully. “So, we need something cooling. Mint. Eucalyptus. Cold iron for grounding and protection.”
Rayna rubbed her hands together. “An emotional palate cleanser.”
Magda swallowed. “And Sebastian and I co-lead?”
“Yes,” Chad said. “Preferably before he starts writing ballads about moss.”
Rayna stood, clapping her hands once. “All right, witches. Love Potion #6 starts now. Or is it #7? Screw it. Let’s fix Magda’s broken scientist before he floods Long Island with sentimental runoff.”
Wally hopped onto the table, made a soft “mrrrp,” and presented Magda with a mint leaf he’d stolen from somewhere.
“Yes. Mint, cooling.” Joell smirked. “Even Wally knows his stuff.”
Magda exhaled slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
The mansion’s lanterns flickered in a long-suffering way that suggested it expected them to solve every magical mess they created—and it wasn’t wrong.