Page 6 of They Were Broom-Mates

It was circular in shape, and stretching out from the center were seven ley lines. Amelie followed them in each direction simultaneously until they reached the edges of the property. She could tell that they continued farther on, but the end of the property line seemingly demarcated the bounds of her newfound abilities.

“Can you feel them too?” Hestia bounced excitedly as Amelie opened her eyes.

“A bit, yeah.” Amelie looked down at her hand. “Though my reach seems to stop at the property line itself.”

“Oh!” Hestia skipped up to the blonde and took her hands in her own, causing Amelie’s face to flush again as she wondered if all her wards were this comfortable with so little personal space. “You’re connected to the house like I’m connected to the ley lines!”

“Exactly,” Regina spoke up again. Amelie glanced over in the other woman’s direction, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about how close Hestia was, especially given how close the pair of them had been to… something happening just moments before the Illusion Witch’s arrival. However, when she met Regina’s gaze, instead she saw a relaxed, happy expression on the other witch’s face.

Regina had leaned against one of the shelves, arms crossed loosely over her chest, and seemed perfectly content to watch the pair of them bond.

“Yours and Hestia’s abilities are very closely tied to physical places, unlike mine and Delia’s. The cathedral just happens to be the best place for us to do our respective jobs.”

Amelie turned back to Hestia, looking down at their hands. Seemingly understanding, Hestia giggled and released her grip, taking a step back out of Amelie’s personal space.

“Delia spends a lot of her time in the crypts.” Hestia tilted her head, a pout appearing on her lips. “We’ve tried to get her to spend more time with us, but she’s been pretty resistant to our efforts so far.”

Amelie glanced over to Regina. “How long has she been here?”

“Five years.” Regina smiled sadly. “I had hoped that she would come around sooner, but she seemed to have an active distaste for the previous Kitchen Witch. Preferring instead to remain primarily outside the central building.”

Amelie nodded. “Maybe I should pay her a visit today… introduce myself.”

“I think that would be wise.” Regina continued, walking over to stand next to Hestia. “Who knows? Perhaps you will have better luck with her than we have.”

Glancing out the window and into the gardens, Amelie wondered briefly what sort of tea someone who spent most of their time in a cemetery would like.

Chapter three

Darjeeling tea in hand, Amelie made her way out the kitchen side door and into the cemetery grounds. The difference between the front and back yards was stark and immediate. While the front yard was lush and full of a wide variety of greenery, flowers, and trees, the cemetery was gray and seemingly devoid of life.

Though as Amelie looked closer, she noticed that the trees and bushes lining the pathways weren’t dead so much as they were muted. And interspersed between the cobblestones and wrought iron fences were purplish gray Catharanthus roseus flowers.

Originally, Amelie had thought that she couldn’t feel Delia’s presence at all, but after doing a little more searching around the cathedral, she came upon a decidedly cold spot. After visiting this spot in person, she confirmed that the area was indeed the cemetery witch’s personal quarters. Not wanting to snoop too much, she had quickly made her way to the kitchen to whip up a pot of tea and passively continued searching the grounds for Delia’s aura as it steeped.

Partially hidden among the chilly, grayish aura of the dead, Amelie finally pinpointed a tempered gray cold spot, sitting in the crypt on the East end of the cemetery grounds. It was subtle enough that Amelie couldn’t fault herself for missing it at first glance, but now that she knew what she was looking for… it was easy enough to follow.

The crypt towered above the rest of the grounds, carved from granite. Unlike the cathedral itself, the mausoleum didn’t seem to be affected by Amelie’s hearth. It was still standing, sure, but it looked far more worn down and decrepit than any other structure on the grounds.

Pausing at the entrance, Amelie swallowed, feeling a bone chilling cold seep from the inside of the crypt, causing her to shiver. However, determined and armed with warm tea, Amelie shook the unsettled feeling from her head and crossed the threshold.

“Delia?” Amelie tried, her voice echoing off the solid walls of the mausoleum.

At first there was no answer, only the cold quiet of the dead. But then, to Amelie’s right, she saw movement from the corner of her eye.

“The new Hearth Witch, I presume?” A low voice replied and as Amelie turned to face the owner, she knew it was Delia from the color and temperature of her aura.

The Cemetery Witch was short, much shorter than Amelie had anticipated actually, not standing any taller than 5’4” at the most. Her figure was thin and waifish, and her skin was pale. Her hair, cut to just below her chin and parted down the middle was white and directly between her brows was a small, black, four pointed star.

“Amelie.” Amelie took a step to the side and placed the teapot down on a granite slab before reaching out a hand for Delia to shake.

Delia looked her up and down for a moment, but ultimately stepped forward and extendedher hand. It wasn’t until Amelie had clasped their hands together that she noticed the orb weaver crawling up the back of Delia’s wrist.

With a gasp, Amelie screeched and stumbled back, knocking directly into the pot of tea and sending it shattering to the floor.

“Oh god! I am so sorry!” Amelie got to work immediately, picking up the pieces, kicking herself for being so clumsy. When she looked back up, Delia was just standing there, watching her as the spider crawled across her knuckles.

“Never seen a familiar before?” Delia asked dryly, combat boots shifting on the tiles.