Hours later, I’m standing at the porch steps of my aunt’s house. Opening the door to my new home, I’m greeted by three familiar faces. “Welcome to Boysen House!” the ladies cheer.
I can’t help but smile as I roll my luggage through the foyer. I’ve been to this old Victorian-era home?complete with two stories, several beds and baths, and neighboring the forest?many times. But today’s the first day I’m here as a resident.
“Thanks, Auntie Lisbeth,” I reply as I walk through, presumably toward my room.
“Let me get your bags while you meet the girls.” My aunt, the only witchy relative I know, all but forcibly grabs my stuff and dashes off. Before I can protest, two women approach me.
“We’ve met before, but I’m Anika San Gupta.” The tall, dark-skinned woman wearing high heels shakes my hand. “Your resident green witch, for all your plant-based magic needs.” That explains the floral print dress.
“Loxley…Boysen,” I reply. “I’m…a historical…witch.” The words “for now” almost leave my mouth, but it’s times like these I’m actually thankful for having a speech impediment. A historical witch is someone attuned to studying magical history, but I’m not certain that’s what I’m cut out for.
I push my glasses up. It’s unclear which is more embarrassing, having slow speech or not knowing what type of witch I am. Auntie has told me many times not to feel ashamed that I don’t have a clear witchcraft focus, but tell that to my ego. While every younger coven retreat had witches doing all sorts of potions, spells, and runes, I could never muster the right magic.Sure, Auntie is a historical witch, but she loves her tomes; I can’t help but feel like my abilities are best used elsewhere. Now they just need to come to fruition.
Pretty embarrassing for a twenty-five-year-old who’s known he was a witch since he was little.
The other girl steps closer and shakes my hand. I’ve also seen her during previous visits, but I’ve never chatted with her. “Hi, Loxley! Taina Santana Martinez,” she says with a friendly smile. She’s also pretty, in a subtle way, and she appears to be about my age. If I were straight, I’d probably have a crush on her. “I’m the house divination witch.”
“Awesome.” The pair leads me to the living room, where a tray of tea awaits us. “I’d…love to…to scry.”
“Taina can teach you!” Anika remarks.
“What, you’re trying to get in on my territory as the resident psychic?” Taina frowns at me before cracking up two seconds later. “Kidding!”
We all laugh as we sit down. “Got me.”
“Don’t haze the poor boy,” Auntie says as she walks in. “There’s room for more than one psychic in this coven.”
“I…thought you needed one of…every kind…of witch.” I push up my glasses again, and Anika hands me a teacup and saucer.
“It maximizes the coven’s powers, but it’s not necessary.” Auntie takes the teapot and pours herself a cup. “Especially now that we can practice solo magic.”
That’s right, Auntie Lisbeth told me about geo arcanum, the rocks of power they all wield now. “How is the Union?”
“It’s fabulous, darling,” Anika says in her posh accent.
“You’re…part of it?” I ask, looking between the three. “The…wizards,” I say with discomfort. Everyone in the magical community knows about the sordid history between wizards and us marginalized witches.
“Hey, we’re friends now,” Auntie remarks.
“In fact, we’re heroes.” Taina preens, and I chuckle.
“I…wish to…join.” My words are stuck in my throat even more than usual, but the anxiety of the Union competency tests has me almost shaking. I stare at my hot drink and try not to sound so self-conscious. “My witchcraft is…” The words trail off while I sip my tea.
The ladies exchange concerned looks for a moment before Auntie says, “Well, that’s why you’re here!”
“To help you with your powers and figure out what you need,” Taina says. “I can divine you if you’d like.”
I nod with a smile.
“And you’re welcome here at Boysen House for as long as you need. You’re a Boysen after all.” Auntie smiles and puts down her cup. “The stars know my brother isn’t going to be teaching you witchy things.”
“No,” I say through a titter. After taking another long sip, I gaze at the living room. “You…are not five?”
“We’re actually down a witch,” Anika remarks. “Two if you count that traitor, Ashley.”
My smile falls. Auntie didn’t tell me the details, but one of their former coven members allegedly used blood magic on another witch and tried to kill people. It’s scandalous, but as someone with dysarthria, I need to choose wisely what questions to ask. This is clearly a taboo topic.
“We are…four?”
