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I startled, my cheeks burning as I quietly studied the three witches for a sign of mockery.
“If that’s some immature dig on Jade, you’ll have to try harder.” Tabitha’s shoulders straightened as she came to my defense.
She eyed the witches dangerously as they gaped at us with surprise.
“No, of course that’s not what we meant,” Elaine assured us quietly, empathy burning in her gaze. She reached out to brush my hand but then changed her mind, folding it in her lap. “Honestly, we’re impressed by the show of magick such a feat must have cost you. Few witches manifest two affinities. Certainly not spirit magick.”
“We’re just curious and perhaps a bit envious,” Genevieve cut in, her accent growing more pronounced as she drank. “We’d love a chance to cast with you and learn the spell you used to awaken half the cemetery.”
Tabitha snorted derisively.
What little goodwill I felt for her a moment ago dwindled just as swiftly as it came.
“I think Liliane wanted to show Tabitha and I around Salem tomorrow,” I said breezily, not committing to anything until I felt more in control of my swirling emotions.
A yell sounded from across the sand dunes, saving me from further discussion on the matter. My lips quirked as the crowd of witches gathered around my great aunt with raucous laughter. The older witch waved to us, gesturing for us to follow them into the house.
“Looks like Liliane’s calling us in,” I said.
“No doubt for her infamous hot toddies.” Sara’s lips twitched. “Be careful, she’s a lush and doctors them up with enough alcohol to make you lose yourself and act as ridiculous as she does.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Tabitha replied coolly.
When the others cleaned up the table, I walked in the opposite direction of the overcrowded house, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll meet y’all up there.”
Without waiting for a response, I headed over to a small rocky path where I breathed in the cold, salty air. The moment of calm helped relax my frazzled magick, and I unleashed it slightly to examine the beauty around me.
In my veins, I could feel the ebb and flow of the tides moving steadily in time with my heartbeats before crashing into a torrent of white spray. Moss and seaweed covered the coarse sand with shards of sea glass glistening under the moonlight. I lifted my head to listen to the sound of gulls and chirping beetles, my eyes shutting against the power of the waning moon above me.
Maybe this trip didn’t have to be the penance Grandmother meant it to be.
Maybe this was my chance to discover who I was without my sisters or my Coven.
It sent a shiver of fear through me, realizing that soon, my life would no longer be my own. Grandmother would sink her talons into me, forcing me back into High-Priestess-in-training sessions, thus hurtling me down the path I had once desired but now dreaded.
But hundreds of miles away from her overbearing presence, I could relearn the woman I used to be before I let everyone down. Starting with the cemetery exorcism tomorrow night.
As I rejoined the Coven, any lingering misgivings floated away with the wind.
8
The next morning, as Tabitha and I walked down Essex Street, our eyes widened in awe. Hundreds of tourists bustled in and out of the packed shops filled with a medley of witchy establishments, most dressed in black hats and striped tights, along with other elaborate costumes. It was not unlike New Orleans during All Hallows’ Eve, but somehow, I knew this level of excitement for witchcraft was a year-round experience.
“Do they know the truth about y’all?” I whispered to Aunt Liliane, who marched Tabitha and I through a crowd of mortals lined up for a tour of the Witch House.
Pride beamed in her eyes as she watched her town prospering. “What? That we’re witches? Of course, dear. At least, they know we consider ourselves witches. But do they truly believe in magick or supernatural forces? Doubtful. We have our own protective spells, so whatever happens in Salem, stays in Salem. Besides, mortals can be easily persuaded. Their minds are somalleable.”
Tabitha and I shared a look before we followed behind Liliane’s warpath.
She tapped her umbrella against a streetlight pole that lingered too long on green. “Tourists come here seeking their own kind of magick or at least confirmation that there’s more to their lives than the boring humdrum. We give them a taste of our world without putting ourselves in danger of breaking any laws.”?
We crossed the street, and I saw the shop I had been looking for all morning. Alyssum Apothecary’sdusky green awning stretched out over the sidewalk, the elaborately designed window display filled with colorful fauna and flora interspersed with glass bottles of tinctures and other mystical concoctions.
Other than the vivid memories of my parents playing with my sisters and I on the beach, my memory of the apothecary teeming with innovative and delightful spellwork had always filled me with unbridled excitement. My earth magick practically burst from my chest as I sensed the eclectic hoard of herbs and ingredients within the brownstone building.
Tabitha, only half listening to our conversation, broke away from Liliane to inspect the frosted window that peered into the shop. “Are the tinctures real?”?
Her voice was soft, so the humans wouldn’t overhear. Not that it seemed to matter, according to Liliane.
