Page 35 of Rewitched

“Calm? I’ve been about as calm as a cat getting in the bath. I feel insane.” Belle wiped her nose in a slightly feral fashion, eyes streaming from the force of the spell.

“Yes, a visit to Hecate House can have that effect on you on a good day.”

“Could someone not have collected me like this yesterday?” Belle asked, dusting down her jeans. With Belle remembering Morena’s threats of house hexes for incorrect attire, Bronwyn had just about granted her the time to summon her cloak and hat. “Just to avoid the little trip to hell and back?”

“We’re not a taxi service, Belle. And anyway, it’s—”

“Tradition. Right.”

Bronwyn scurried to her shelves, struggling under the weight of the grimoire, and reached on her tiny legs to wedge it back in between a set of glow-in-the-dark plastic fangs still in their packaging and a pop-up vampire which gave an electronic laugh as she approached.

A pointed cough came from the entryway. “Pardon me for breaking up the party.” Morena had transferred. She brushed down her tailored trousers after announcing herself, then stormed farther into the room with a flourish of her cloak and hands on her hips. “I trust you have a suitable explanation for your sudden disappearing act this morning, Bronwyn.” A vicious look was fired in Belle’s direction.

“Don’t you know that nothing keeps an audience on their toes quite like a disappearing act, sister? For my next trick, I shall be sawing Ms. Blackthorn in half within a wooden box.”

“I would take great pleasure in completing that task myself, sister.”

The Gowden sisters glared at each other, frozen in an unspoken staring contest. Reluctantly breaking eye contact, Bronwyn turned back to Belle.

“Please excuse us for one moment, dear. Step out, take a breather. I’d better fill Morena in on our lucky findings. I’m sure she’ll be as thrilled as we are that there’s a perfectly legitimate loophole for us to take a chance on.”

With a nod and an awkward smile at Morena, who, unsurprisingly, did not return the favour, Belle excused herself from the office, grateful to not have to play witness.

The door led back to the main atrium of Hecate House, with its twelve possible entries and the astounding ceiling that flickered with its canopy of magic. Bronwyn’s office lay behind the Gemini door. Two silhouetted witches wearing pointed hats were cast in bronze above—fitting, both for the star sign and for the two Gowden sisters. Belle leaned back against the door with her eyes closed. She could still see the bright flecks of the ceiling crackling behind her eyelids.

A mentor. This was exactly what she needed. She couldn’t believe her luck and sent her best vibes of thanks to whichever imaginative, ancient mystic had taken the time to jot down that offhand idea in the margins. Her magic might flourish now, with help from someone who knew what they were doing. Someone who knew better, who could show her the way that she was meant to go.

She almost toppled backwards as the door swung open without warning. Morena, radiating palpable fury, shoved past her without a backward glance. She crossed over the tiled moon and stars, cloak cascading behind her like a bird in flight, before disappearing through the eleventh door underneath a giant brass scorpion. Also rather fitting—sharp pincers, a sting in the tail.

Belle peered her head back around and saw Bronwyn staring straight into her fireplace. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, a fury of magic crackling across her knuckles. Belle cleared her throat, and the elder witch immediately released the angry tension, dropping her shoulders and smoothing her expression.

“Wonderful, wonderful! It’s all settled, Belle.”

Belle suspected that, in fact, nothing had been all settled or wonderful and that Bronwyn had merely refused to lose the argument.

“My sister has gone to share the developments and make necessary arrangements with those who need to know. So without further ado, we shall get to choosing you a suitable…well, a suitable suitor.”

Belle hesitated. “I really am sorry to have upset Morena so much. I don’t seem to have started out on a good note with her at all, and I’m not entirely sure why she—”

“Don’t take it personally, lovey,” Bronwyn interrupted. “There is no good note with my sister. Only flat ones, caterwauls and hideous violin noises.”

Belle dared to let the tiniest ounce of hope take seed in her mind, that maybe this could and would be resolved soon. All was not lost.

Bronwyn was refastening her cloak and adjusting her hat as though preparing to leave. Belle took it as an invitation to follow suit.

“The grimoire said we should refer to the Hecate House glossary for the archive. How do we find that?”

“Not ‘glossary,’ dear. Ossuary.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s where we keep the bones,” Bronwyn replied.

Belle choked. “Bones?”

“Yes, love. Bones. Of the coven members who’ve passed on,” she said airily, as though explaining where the bread was kept in the kitchen. Sensing Belle’s horror, she added, “Oh, don’t look so aghast, you ninny. Renting space in London doesn’t come cheap, as I’m sure you know all too well. The above-ground cemetery is well out of our budget, even as supernatural beings. Having the coven ossuary means we can give our wicche family a final resting place together within Hecate House, if they so choose. It’s not unusual for members to be cast out of their families, for friends to turn their backs when truths are revealed, for lovers to decide it’s all too much. This place becomes both their home and comfort when nothing else remains.”

“Home sweet Hecate House.”