The Kitchen Witch's Broom-Mates
1. Chapter 1
Chapter one
The cathedral stood on a hill just outside of town, towering over everything like a solemn sentinel. Amelie stepped out of the car, thanking the driver as he unloaded her things. As the cab pulled away, she grabbed her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and punched in her brother’s number.
As per usual, he answered on the first ring, but Amelie knew better than to expect a greeting. So, instead she launched right into what she had called him about.
“Hey Ro, did the new baker show up?”
“Yup.”
Her brother’s monotone grumpiness had her rolling her eyes as she snapped her fingers, activating the locomotion spell on her trunk, allowing it to float gently next to her as she made her way up the driveway.
“Isn’t she just so sweet?” Amelie gushed. Even her curmudgeon of a brother had to admit that much; it was impossible not to like the new girl.
“No. I mean, she’s fine, adequate.”
“Adequate?” Amelie felt the corner of her lip draw up in a sneer. She rarely made faces, but there were some things that only a sibling could pull from you.
“I hope you aren’t being rude to her,” Amelie scolded as she reached the gate to the main property. As if sensing her presence, the towering, gothic gates creaked open, slowly inward on their own.
“She is so nice,” Amelie continued, stepping over the threshold and officially onto the property.
“I thought she could bring some sunshine to the shop. Well, not sunshine.” Amelie shrugged as she made her way up the circular driveway to the massive front doors. “Since she’s a vampire and all, but you know what I mean. Balance out all your seriousness.”
“Amelie, please tell me you didn’t hire her based on her personality. We need someone who can get the work done efficiently, not someone who is always smiling. This is a hard job! Did you even check her references to see if she could bake?”
Amelie winced at the question. No… When she’d been called to fill the position at the cathedral, she’d only had less than 48 hours to find her bakery replacement. She would feel bad if Rowan hadn’t taught her everything she knew. She was confident that he could do the same for Sadie.
Probably…
“Stop worrying,” Amelie sidestepped the question. “She’ll be great. I can sense it. Just give her a chance to prove herself. You’ll love her once you get to know her.”
Rowan started to respond, but just then the front door swung open, and an elderly woman walked out, a welcoming smile on her face.
“You must be Amelie.” The woman’s hair was peppered with white and gray, and a pair of round spectacles sat atop her nose.
Amelie shoved her phone into her shoulder and extended her hand with a smile. “I am.”
Her brother’s voice continued on the phone, and while she didn’t quite catch exactly what he was saying, Amelie sensed his anxiousness to get off the phone. Pulling her cell back up to her ear, Amelie nodded apologetically to the woman.
“Sorry, Ro. I gotta go; I just got to the property.”
“It’s fine. I gotta go, Ames. I’ll text you later.”
Amelie grinned and hummed as Rowan hung up the phone, placing hers in the back pocket of her jeans.
“Sorry about that.” Amelie continued. “Family stuff, you know.”
The woman smiled kindly and shook her head.
“Of course.” Dusting her hands off on her apron, the woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a transportation stone.
“Now that you’re here, I have to get back to my post.”
Amelie’s smile dropped from her face as she realized that the woman was planning on leaving her all by herself immediately.
“Wait,” Amelie held up her hand just as the woman began to trace the runes on the stone with her thumb. Luckily, she paused, waiting for Amelie to continue.
“I um-” Amelie laughed nervously. “Can you show me the ropes first?”
A look of gentle understanding fell upon the old woman’s face as she reached out, patting Amelie on the shoulder.
“You are the Kitchen Witch of this sanctuary now.” The woman tilted her head slightly to the side. “There is nothing to show. It’s your job to establish what the day-to-day will look like.”
Amelie felt her eyes widen as the words sunk in.
“Your wards are Hestia, Regina, and Delia; all young, but powerful witches. Your job is to make sure that they eat, sleep, and do their duties to the town. How you choose to do so is entirely up to you.”
Amelie pursed her lips. She wanted to push further, get a better understanding of what she was supposed to do, but the woman was already tracing her thumb on the transportation stone.
And even if she did, she knew that the woman was right.
This was not her domain; she was the protectorate of another outpost, in another town, somewhere far away, and wouldn’t be able to show or tell her the things she needed to know.
As the woman disappeared in a cloud of mist, Amelie took a deep breath, eyes returning to the edifice towering before her.
The property had a certain life to it, Amelie could feel it thrumming below her feet through the worn stones, the ivy climbing the walls, and even the stained glass windows.
For centuries, this cathedral had been Pumpkin Hollow’s magical core, providing protection from the outside world, records of prophecy, and guardianship of those long gone.
She was simply one more in a long line of custodians.
Bracing herself as she realized the true magnitude of the position that had been bestowed upon her, Amelie swallowed hard. She snapped her fingers again, walking as confidently as she could into the narthex.
Doors closing behind her, seemingly of their own volition, Amelie paused just in the entryway before the nave. Closing her eyes, Amelie lifted a hand, allowing her magic to flow from her fingertips into the sanctuary, through the aisles and down the rows of pews.
She could sense the stale remnants of the previous caretaker’s magic, more strongly in certain areas than others, but when the previous kitchen witch had passed, her energy and life force had slowly begun to bleed out of the building.
An ancient building such as this one required the magic of a caretaker to remain standing and in working order, so as soon as news reached the High Priestess of the territory, she immediately reached out to Amelie to take over.
Her mother had been thrilled, of course. Being chosen as a caretaker was an incredible honor, but her brother, Rowan, had been less than excited. Amelie being called to fill the position of caretaker meant that she could no longer work with him at the bakery.
Walking in the direction of the kitchen, Amelie traced her finely manicured fingertips over the cold stone of the wall, breathing life back into the space.
Kitchen witches, or hearth witches, were sometimes underestimated, especially by mortals who didn’t have a genuine understanding of how hidden territories such as Pumpkin Hollow functioned.
Sure, Amelie couldn’t make plants grow in her wake like Lucia or channel the power of the sun to create storms of fire like her cousin Emery.
Still, without a Hearth Witch, magical buildings like this one and, in turn, the towns that survived around them would literally fall apart.
It was easy for Amelie to find her way to the kitchen as the closer she got, the more disheveled everything around her became.
However, under her touch, the cracks in the brick knitted themselves back up, and lights returned to the candles sitting in the sconces lining the walls.
Like a ground devoid of all water, the building drank in her magic, acclimating to her every move and vibration.
The closer she got to the kitchen, the more she felt her power pouring out and slithering its way into every corner of the cathedral.
As she turned the corner, her eyes fell upon the kitchen.
Or rather… what had once been the kitchen.
Unlike the rest of the cathedral, which had been slowly crumbling, the kitchen was completely desolate.
Truly, it was just the skeleton of a building that had been built hundreds and hundreds of years ago; not a single sign of life could be found anywhere.
It was a dead spot, an area completely devoid of all magic.
Amelie sighed and walked into the space. A Hearth Witch’s kitchen was her heart, her soul, and ultimately, when a witch passed on, their hearth burned out.
Stepping over bricks that had crumbled down from the ceiling, Amelie made her way to the back wall, across from the entrance to the room, and knelt down in front of the hearth.
She placed her hands on her chest and closed her eyes, focusing on accessing her core.
Her mother had taught her how to access her inner hearth when she turned 15, and over the ten years since, she had done it a couple of times to practice, but this was the first time she actually intended to do anything with it.
Rising and falling with her breath, Amelie felt the flickering flame tickle her palms as it slowly came forward until she held it in her hands.
“Hello, there,” Amelie whispered, smiling down at her flame before extending her arms into the hearth itself.
Ever so gently, Amelie placed the flame down in the center of the barren hearth, watching it dance for only a second before it was replaced by a roaring fire.
Feeling the warmth of her magic wash over her, Amelie’s breath hitched as she watched the space around her transform.
No longer was the hearth empty and barren. It was instead replaced by logs and a fire sitting inside a white marble fireplace. The walls were a gorgeous dark walnut wood, and above the fireplace itself sat Amelie’s portrait.