Chapter 2
every day magic
Callie’s morning started softly. She’d gotten to work a little early, reviewed notes from a previous staff meeting, then, with her little notebook at her side, set about her day. She’d started logging her spells.
Little ones. Light charms, protection bubbles the size of a coffee cup. The sugar-preservation sigil made her homemade cookies last 3 days longer. She had drawn a small smiley face sun in the margin and labeled it: “kitchen witch: level 2.”
She grinned. Jess would roll her eyes at her self-promotion. Callie snickered and scratched out the digit, “technically, three,” she wrote, then quickly closed the book as Janice breezed by with a cart loaded with returns.
“Morning,” Callie called, and Janice veered toward the main desk. “Just checking,” she grinned, “Any mysterious overnight visitors you’d like to gossip about?”
Callie shook her head, laughing, “Not today.”
Marta’s head popped out from the staff room, “Yet.”
Callie groaned and went back to her computer. She opened a tab and typed, ‘modern witchy fashion,’ then, 'casual sorceress streetwear.’ She smirked and added, ‘witchcore but hot.’
The results were a mix of flowing sleeves, corsets, and leather. A pair of lace-up boots caught Callie’s eye, but then the price, “Oooff, no,” Still, they were sexy. Callie continued to scroll slowly, biting her lip.
“Costume research?” came Marta’s voice, too close and from behind.
Callie startled, slamming her laptop nearly shut with a guilty wince, “It’s…for my reading program. You know, Halloween…eventually. Planning ahead.”
Marta gave her a look. “Sure. If that reading program involves thigh-high boots and spell-slinger cleavage.”
Callie blushed, “I’m exploring a theme.”
Marta, venerable mother and grandmother to a brood, leaned against Callie’s desk, arms crossed over her matronly chest, “You know, a certain someone might be very interested in seeing you in something like that.”
Callie blinked, “Who?” She sounded owl-like.
Marta raised her eyebrows, “Do I really need to say it?”
Callie shook her head, looking down. “Nope. Got it. Thanks.” She didn’t close the tabs. Not yet.
Marta lingered, tilting her head, “What shoe size do you wear, by the way?”
Callie looked up to see Marta staring at the screen, “Seven and a half? Why?”
“I’ve got a couple of pairs you might like,” Marta said, glancing around in case they were overheard. That concerned Callie as the HR director was the most unfiltered of the entire staff. She took a breath and steeled herself.
“As I’m built for naughty elf-chic, they would hit you mid-shapely thigh. I’d go with some…” Marta paused, thinking, “Got any sequin panties?”
“Mart-” Callie shrieked, then hung her head as it was also a Janice-summoning call. She wasn’t wrong.
“What’d I miss?” Janice asked, breathlessly appearing at Marta’s side. She looked at Callie’s screen, “Oh…how…” She looked disappointed, “bourgeois.”
“Rookie,” Marta clucked her tongue, then elbowed Callie away from her screen. She scrolled then typed in something, only to get a restricted site warning. With another couple of keystrokes, the image on the screen got all their attention.
“Now, we’re talkin',” Janice agreed, leaning way too close, “that’s the look. Latex all the way up to paradise.” She stepped back, tapping her chin, “Panty choice though.”
“You guys,” Callie wheezed, her lips twitching. They realized she was waiting for their input.
“Red silk,” Marta offered, still considering, “with a matching bra. Make it a shelf style.”
Janice’s glance at Callie’s chest wasn’t subtle, “Oh yeah. Classy. It fits your librarian vibe.”
“Thank you. That’s very sweet of you to say.” Callie smiled, hoping the moment might be over. It wasn’t.
“Shaving or waxing?” Janice asked so innocently, and Callie answered without thinking.
“Varies…I’m tidy.” She looked up from the desk, praying for a customer.
“I’ve got a wax guy,” Janice offered cheerfully. “He’s so attentive to detail. I’ll go for six months, then go in looking like a Pomeranian in a wind tunnel. He gets all up everywhere. Like a spa day, with screaming.”
Callie had already rolled back in her chair and disappeared under the reception desk.
Jess’s day began quietly.
She stood in the driveway, mug in one hand, a stray hockey stick in the other, watching Cam’s carpool pull away.
She’d walked out with him, still warm from an earlier home workout, the cool air hitting her damp skin. Cam had barely looked at her, but the other boys in the SUV had.
“God, Mom, I’m never gonna hear the end of this.” He chuckled to soften any awkwardness, but Jess had barely heard him. She was busy waving at one of the moms behind the wheel, who gave her a thumbs up and a grin before pulling away.
Earlier that morning, she'd worked through a yoga routine, then, as Cam got ready for practice, she’d run through a series of short acceleration bursts through the living room and the kitchen, dodging furniture with practiced strides. Nothing fancy, just leaps, pivots, and reversals in yoga pants and a crop top that had seen better days. She’d been flushed and sweaty by the time Cam came downstairs. She grinned, stretching her arms above her head.
“Oh, Kari is here,” she smiled, hearing the horn from their driveway, “I’ll come out with you to say hi.” Cam pulled up short, then dug in his bag and threw a towel at her, “Uh, sure. You’re all sweaty.”
Blotting her forehead, Jess draped the towel over her shoulders and opened the storm door. Cam followed, rolling his eyes, anticipating, knowing his mom had no idea as four gawking teen faces filled the windows of the extended SUV.
Back in the house, as Jess passed the mirror by the console table, she stopped at her reflection. Her hair was wild, in need of a hair tie, but she tugged on the towel that covered her chest, then pulled it down between her breasts, something she had always done with Zach to tease him. He would always stop and stare, his brow would arch.
A vague warmth coiled low in her belly. Not desire exactly, not even need. But she’d found herself touching herself more lately. Briefly. As though answering a call she didn’t remember making.
Jess hadn’t made the connection. Not yet.
Still, it felt good to move. To remember what her body could still do. She wondered if anyone would still want her like this. Still seen and someone strong. Someone desirable.
Now, in the kitchen, Jess looked out the window at the backyard, the fence, the garden, and the fire pit. She set her mug down and picked up a steak knife from the drying rack, just a basic one, and began to roll it across her knuckles.
It didn’t sing like the old ones had, but the motion remembered her even if she wished to forget it.
The balance was off. The grip was plastic and too thick. It clattered into the sink after only two passes. Jess scowled and picked it up again, slower this time. Intentional.
Not for violence but for focus.
This time it went better, as did the next attempt. Just as Jess began to feel the rhythm, she noticed the silence. What would Callie say if she knew how many lives I’ve ended with blades like this?
And what would Carson say?
She set the knife down. Done. “That’s not who you are anymore,” she muttered, but the echo in her head disagreed.
Focus, she thought, then amplified…enhanced focus. She blew out a long breath, feeling the air scrape her lungs like it was trying to remind her she had a body.
Lucky to be alive, sure. But lately, it felt like being alive was the part someone was about to challenge.