Page 33 of Rewitched

Belle clutched at where her heart used to be, trailing behind Bronwyn, who remained entirely oblivious as she wandered through Lunar Books.

“Oh, but of course today is official coven business,” the sage witch continued, as she examined the pair of cat ears and bin bag cape that Belle had draped around a cardboard cut-out in the children’s section. “The fate of your magic and the like. Though remind me to share with you the neat little charm I have for permanently plumped cushions. Some of the armchairs in here do look a bit sad, and you’d really—”

With that, Belle threw an arm over Bronwyn’s shoulders and guided her with speed and precision towards the front door. She hastily untied her apron and threw it down onto the desk towards a baffled Monica as she passed. “That’s break for me, Mon. I’ll be back. Hold the fort.”

Belle ushered Bronwyn out of the shop, under the tinkle of the doorbell and around the corner onto a quiet cobbled street in an impressive matter of seconds.

“What is it, deary? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, and I have it on good authority that they’re largely at peace in this borough of London, at least until Halloween, and then there’s no stopping—”

“Bronwyn. Hi.” Belle stared at her sage witch, incredulous.

“Hello, Belle. It’s wonderful to see you again,” Bronwyn said gleefully, scrunching up her nose with a chuckle. “And this is all rather exciting, isn’t it? I don’t much consider myself a city slicker, but here I am, adventuring to the other end of London! Oh, poppet, you look dreadful. I bet you’ve been worrying yourself ill over all this EquiWitch business, haven’t you?”

“Something like that,” Belle muttered. “How about we go and find a cup of tea rather than standing out here in the cold?”

Belle guided Bronwyn the few streets down to Jitter Bug, the coffee shop below her and Ariadne’s flat. The girls were such consistent regulars that Mr. Ricci came straight over to deliver coffee without so much as a glance. It took him a moment to realise that Belle had taken the crimson leather booth not with Ariadne but with an old woman in what seemed to be a witch’s costume. He paused for a moment, his walrus moustache bristling in confusion.

“Thanks, Mr. Ricci. This is…This is my…”

“I’m Bronwyn, lovey. I’m Belle’s coven leader.”

He stayed motionless for a second. “ ’Course you are,” he grunted before tossing his dish-rag over his shoulder and heading back to the counter.

“Tea for me, please, my good sir. And crumpets, if you’ve got any. If not, I’ll conjure my own,” Bronwyn called after him.

Belle’s head fell into her hands. “Bronwyn, what are you doing here? I really wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon, let alone see you. Here. In the non-wicche realm. Asking for crumpets…”

“I have news. Good news. Or interesting news, at least.”

Before Belle could stop her, Bronwyn directed a stream of sparks from her palm to the silver metal tabletop, and an enormous book materialised between them, sending the sugar dispenser flying. Gasping in horror at the flagrant display of magic for all to see, Belle frantically grabbed two menus from a neighbouring table and flung them up around the book like a protective wall. Luckily, only a child tucking into a stack of blueberry pancakes seemed to have noticed, mouth agape mid-bite until his mother told him to stop staring.

“Bronwyn, please,” Belle reminded her desperately.

“Sorry, poppet,” she said with a dismissive chuckle. “Rune did warn me that you’re a non-wicche for all intents and purposes around these parts. The moment your trial came to an end, I started searching the grimoire like a madwoman. Dotty as a box of frogs, I was, hunting for something we can use to our advantage…”

With great difficulty, she eased open the thick cover of the book that took up most of the table and emitted a chalky cough of dust as the pages were turned.

“If one needs answers…Now, where the blasted heck did I…” she muttered to herself.

“But Bronwyn, I thought the EquiWitch rules were about as certain as it gets. They’ve been written into coven history for generations. Otherwise, what was the point in the trial at all?”

“Life is for loopholes, dear.” Bronwyn gave her a wink. “This thing has never steered me wrong, in all my years leading this coven, and I knew your predicament would be no different. When you get to be this old, lovey, you know that there is always another turn to take. It’s never a dead end.”

“Well, Morena wants to have me burnt at the stake.”

“Oh, pay her no mind.” Bronwyn batted away the subject of her sister. “She was born on the wrong side of the bed and has never since managed to find the right one. I’ll have her to answer to, but the divil to her. She doesn’t know what’s best for the future of the coven.”

Belle chewed nervously at a cuticle as Bronwyn examined the book with squinted eyes, licking a finger now and then to pass through the pages at speed.

“Is this the coven’s first grimoire?” Belle asked curiously.

Bronwyn nodded. “The original. High sages have added to it and contributed their wisdom to Selcouth lore since the day it was first created.”

“Have you and Morena added things to it?”

“Of course. We’re not just a pair of pretty faces. Morena certainly isn’t.”

“So you can just change the rules of magic? If it can be edited and added to over the years, I mean.”