Page 2 of They Were Broom-Mates

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.

Dressed in her favorite white, ruffled gown, Amelie stood with her ferret familiar, Truffle, perched across her shoulders. Turning around into the actual kitchen space, Amelie looked around in awe. The ceiling was coffered, each recessed rectangle containing a hand-painted flower or plant that, upon closer inspection, seemed to be ingredients that Amelie liked to use in her cooking. In the center, above a black marble countertop, hung a glass chandelier with eight candles flickering independently around the circumference.

All the cabinets were the same dark walnut as the walls, but above the counters, the walls were covered by a black-and-gold damask wallpaper. All the pots and pans hanging on the walls themselves were made of copper, just like her mother’s at home, and over the sink, a window whose upper half consisted of stained glass flowers overlooking the cemetery out back.

“I see you’ve made yourself right at home.”

Amelie turned with a start at the sound of the low, silky voice. She hadn’t heard anyone approach, but then again, she had been so caught up in her hearth’s creation that she wasn’t sure she had been paying close enough attention.

Across the way, standing in the entrance Amelie herself had walked through just minutes before, was a curvy, statuesque woman smiling softly at her, hands folded in front of her lap. Her long, black hair was pinned at the base of her neck, wavy bangs framing her face. Frankly, she was the most put-together person Amelie had ever seen. She wore a black ruffled dress that ended at her calves and buttoned up the front, all the way to the top of her throat; the sleeves were tight and ruffled at the wrists, and her shoes were a sort of black, heeled oxford.

However, her clothes, while impressive, were the least striking thing about her. Standing at around 6 feet tall, she made the doorway seem almost average-sized; her skin was an ashy grey color, and both her eyes were stark white.

Amelie’s hand flew to her mouth in surprise before she could stop herself.

“You’re the Town Seer.”

Appalled at her own rudeness, Amelie dropped her hand down to her side and opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could get a word out, the woman’s smile grew as she covered her own mouth with a giggle.

“I am.” The woman responded, taking a couple of steps into the kitchen toward Amelie. “There’s no need to apologize. I understand it can be startling the first time interacting with a Seer.”

Amelie felt her face heat up slightly as the woman walked right up to her, stopping a few steps away. Partly out of embarrassment, and partly due to how flustered the beautiful woman seemed to be making her.