Twice Bitten (Love, Lust & Magic #1)

Griff

Campus was abuzz with homecoming activities as hurriedly made his way to class.

A group of girls—several of which prompted a double-take from because of their uncanny resemblance to Pruitt’s ex—barraged him with flyers and stickers. “Don’t forget to cast your vote by five o’clock today! Ada for homecoming queen!”

“I already voted,” sighed as a stack of promotional flyers was shoved into his arms.

Late my first week of classes? I am literally the worst, he thought to himself as he dumped the Ada for Homecoming Queen posters into the nearest outdoor recycling bin. Bee-lining around other homecoming week solicitors, made his way inside the next building and tiptoed down the hallway into class.

Peering through the double doors of Professor Quinn’s lecture hall, he could see that class had already started. The lights were off, a projector screen displaying a highlight reel of Shakespeare film and theater adaptations. It was the perfect time to sneak in. Score!

pulled the door ajar and slid into the back of the room. As he softly guided it closed, he pressed his back against the wall. He let out a sigh of relief as he realized no one had noticed him. Unfortunately, the back three rows were already filled with sleeping students, making it near impossible for him to find a spot there.

Please don’t let Professor Silver Fox notice me. Please don’t let ? —

Almost as though he could hear what was thinking, Professor Quinn stood up and turned his attention to the student sneaking into the fourth row from the exit. Damn it , thought to himself as he took a seat.

Quinn smiled and turned back to the screen as took a deep breath. After getting himself situated, his eyes searched the room. Not only was Ada missing, but so was Uriah. frowned at the second realization.

That’s what I get for putting my faith in the bad boy , thought to himself as he shook his head.

Instead of brooding, turned his attention to the projector screen, which showed an interpretation of Paris placing flowers at Juliet’s grave in a portrayal of Romeo & Juliet.

It’s not like I meant to be some kind of prophetic descendant of dark magic. In fact, I was doing the most human thing possible—nothing witchy. Just trying to find a connection… or two.

watched as the on-screen Romeo—hellbent on taking his own life at Juliet’s tomb—confronted the waiting Paris. Vampire, werewolf, witch, or human—I guess love triangles never work. Well, actually, I guess my personal situation would be more like love, uh, throuples? Maybe a triad? In any event, Odessa is the original example of that. And now she is such a vindictive bitch.

“Wilt thou provoke me?” the on-screen Romeo asked, interrupting ’s train of thought. ’s eyes glazed over as he watched Romeo strike down Paris. He nervously tapped a pen on the arm of his chair.

And why the hell does Romeo have to go on some kind of murderous rampage because he doesn’t get what he wants? He’s so selfish. Paris was just looking out for—oh, okay. Yeah. ’s train of thought changed as the on-screen story progressed. At least Romeo allows Paris to be buried next to Juliet, I guess. Mortal maiming aside, he at least is considerate of everyone’s feelings, unlike someone I know. And…

As clutched the pen in his hand and crushed it, the projector exploded.

“Shit!” shouted Professor Quinn as he jumped to his feet. Noticing the eyes of the entire class on him, he let out a nervous laugh. “I meant to say—uh, well, no . Shit was really the right word.”

Quinn fanned the remnants of the projector with a paper folder as a small cloud of black smoke poured from it. “You know what, guys? Happy homecoming. We’ll pick up where we left off on Monday. Famous adaptations of Shakespeare can wait. Go do your little college kid thing and stay safe.”

What the—did I just do that? looked around to see if anyone else happened to be channeling their hidden supernatural abilities into a physical explosion. The surrounding students were literally out the door before he could even consider another suspect. Well, doesn’t look like anyone else did.

felt bad as he watched Quinn mess with the piece of equipment to discover what was wrong. He pulled his backpack over his shoulders and nervously walked down to the front of the room.

“Hey, Professor Quinn,” said as he bit his lip. “Uh, I mean, Quinn .”

“Hey, ,” said the professor as he gave up on the machine and unplugged it. “Enjoy the show?”

“Do you know what happened?” asked innocently.

“Uh,” Quinn hesitated as he looked down and saw that the sleeves of his white button-up were now covered in black smoke marks. “I don’t, no. I’m guessing this old thing was all that fit into the humanities budget this year. And the worst part is I teach Intro to Occult Studies at two and I don’t often carry with me an extra outfit.”

“Oh,” mumbled .

“I don’t suppose you know what happened, ?”

“I-it just was out of nowhere, I guess,” was all could muster.

“ Huh ,” Quinn huffed as he looked up and down. “Guess so.”

“So, occult studies, huh?”

“Yeah. I started teaching it when…” Already unbuttoning his shirt, the professor stopped mid-sentence when he realized what he was doing might be deemed inappropriate. “Sorry, is it okay if I just…?”

A coy nodded.

Quinn gave a half-hearted smile as he pulled his shirt completely off. Although expected him to be wearing something underneath, his professor instead was in the buff from his chiseled hip bones and up. felt embarrassed for checking him out, but couldn’t help but notice a demarcation on Professor Quinn’s tanned, muscular frame that made him speak up.

“Don’t suppose that has anything to do with occult studies?” he tried to crack a joke.

“Oh, what?” Quinn asked as he looked down. “You mean my chest tattoo? Ha, I consider it more of a bad way to handle a midlife crisis, but it holds a special meaning to me.”

It was almost as though could close his eyes and pinpoint the same symbol—something resembling a feathered wing—in Pruitt’s book on witchcraft the night before. It looked nothing like the design of his own necklace, however.

“ Thank god ,” Quinn remarked as he pulled a wrinkled shirt out of his bag and quickly put it on.

“Very nice back up,” said with a smile.

After studying ’s reaction, a confused Quinn looked down. The white t-shirt he had thrown on—seemingly a size smaller than a teacher would wear but potentially perfect for a cocky muscle jock—had Ada for Homecoming Queen embossed in pink cursive lettering on the front of it.

Now flush in the face, Quinn scratched his head. “Uh, those girls on the Mystic Green handed it to me on my way in. Although this is not an official endorsement, I do appreciate the compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” said .

The two shared a smile.

“So, what is it you wanted to chat about? Don’t tell me you came down to apologize for the mid-class spontaneous explosion.”

Oh, crap. tried to search for a cover. “Actually, um, funny you should mention your next class. I was curious about adding it to my schedule next semester.”

“You’re interested in that kind of stuff, huh?” Quinn asked as he packed up his bag.

More than you know . “I mean, maybe. It just kind of seemed like?—”

“An easy elective?” Quinn interrupted. “Don’t be afraid to say what literally every student in the history of Mystic Hollow University already has. It’s cool, .”

“Well,” began a sentence he was unsure how to finish. He liked that Quinn was providing him a quick cover for investigating what was undoubtedly a result of his magic, but he didn’t want to lie. “Actually, I feel like recently —very recently, in fact— that whole field has kind of piqued my interest.”

“That so?” Quinn asked as he attempted to stretch out his new shirt.

“Yeah,” replied .

“Funny enough, that’s what the students who sign up and actually end up passing also say,” Quinn said with a smile. “Guess there’s hope for you yet.”

“Guess so.” shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Here,” Quinn fumbled through his bag once more before pulling out a business card. “If you’d like to chat about signing up, or this class, or the play I’m going to get you and Uriah Black to try out for, reach out. Or for anything else, really.”

“Thanks,” said as he reached for the card. The two brushed hands briefly.

“Ah, sorry,” Quinn jerked his arm back.

“You’re fine,” said . Cute. “I’ll have a better look in the course catalog and definitely check out the class.”

At first, Quinn seemed to be stuck in thought. “Oh, the class?” he asked. “Yeah. I-I think some end up taking it for pure enjoyment, while others might use it as an opportunity to learn more about—I don’t know—some unknown driving force in their life. To answer the questions they couldn’t figure out themselves, if you will.”

Interesting. Also, story of my life. “Sounds like a unique syllabus,” joked aloud.

“I’d love to chat more about it now, but I’m gonna have to hurry home quick if I don’t want to be nipping out the rest of the day,” Quinn said as he lifted his arms in his shirt and his chest pushed against the fabrics holding it together. “I hope you can understand.”

“Of course,” said as he tucked the business card into his pocket.

“See you at the football game, maybe?”

“Huh?”

“Tonight’s big game. Aren’t you and your friends going?”

“Oh,” said thoughtfully. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Well, I will not say you struck me as a football fan, , but considering about ninety-five percent of the student population will be there tonight, I figured it was a fair assumption.”

“Yeah. Fair assumption is right,” said with a smile. “I’ll let you know if football permanently changes my life on Monday. Thanks, Professor Qui—uh, Quinn.”

The professor waved. “Take care, .”

You don’t suppose he’s in on all of this supernatural stuff, too? thought to himself as he headed up the steps that led out of the classroom, through the hallway, and back outside. I feel like whatever magic abilities that have been passed down to me should give me a little help with sorting out the good guys versus the bad ones. “Maybe that’s in the next software update,” finished his thought aloud with a chuckle.

As made his way to his next class, it surprised him to receive a phone call from Pruitt.

“Hey,” greeted his caller.

“How’s your day going?” Pruitt asked.

“Someone calling me just because they’re interested in my day? Pinch me,” responded. As his pace slowed, he chose a small bench nestled between two buildings to stop at. The sun was now shining and it appeared as though there was going to be great weather for the evening.

“Hey now, don’t go making me out to be some basic vanilla boyfriend,” said Pruitt.

Boyfriend? thought to himself. He could only assume Pruitt was kicking himself on the other end of the line for that Freudian slip.

“I mean, not that I’m your—bu-but not that I don’t want to be! You know what I mean. Damn,” Pruitt laughed nervously.

“I do. And I like it,” replied . “I’m just between classes right now, killing some time, but things are good. Darcy had someone over last night and I think I may have walked in on him in the middle of something. Can’t tell if that’s suspicious or not.”

“Oh?” asked Pruitt. “Suspicious because he doesn’t seem like the most social of people? I mean, uh, he seems like a nice guy.”

A smile on his lips, rolled over the subject. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just about to have a team huddle before we break to get ready for the game tonight,” answered Pruitt. “So my schedule before picking you up looks a little like, oh, working on finding the winning play for tonight, researching ancient witches and how to stop them, checking in on a certain magical guy I’ve been talking to, and taking a shower. You know, the norm.”

wanted to gush over Pruitt’s cutesy description of him, but he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering back to last night’s drama. “And Uriah? I-I mean, have you spoken to him?”

Pruitt was silent at first. “Uh, not yet, but I’m planning on calling him. I’m sure he’s busy—you know, doing his own intel thing.”

“Really?” asked .

“He’s a wild card is all I can say, G, but I know his heart is in the right place,” said Pruitt. The freshman could tell this was a sore subject for even Pruitt right now.

“Can I ask you a question about something from last night?” inquired .

“If you’re asking about that thing I did in the kitchen, I ? —”

“No!” Although Pruitt was miles away, couldn’t help but blush. “N-not that. No questions there.”

“Okay, good,” Pruitt replied with a laugh.

“I was just curious about Witch’s Brew,” said as he pursed his lips. “You guys had said something about the owner hexing you?”

“Oh, yeah. There’s an older woman there. Think she runs the bar and the attached little magic shop. What about her?”

’s mind raced back to Quinn’s comments after class. He remembered the words of those Odessa possessed at the bar. At that moment, even the weight of his necklace felt heavy. Could she tell me anything about who I am? About what I can do?

“Oh, nothing,” replied innocently. “I was just curious if she might know anything about my powers, my crazy great-great-great-someone who wants to kill me, about you.”

He could tell by the momentary silence that Pruitt didn’t like the idea. “Look, even though I think campus is the safest place for you right now, I’m not here to tell you what to do. But just be careful. It’s clear someone knew we were there last night and I—well, I don’t want anything happening to you.”

Aw , thought to himself. “Well, ditto. And that’s why I want to learn as much as I can about my little magical secret.”

“Just be safe, okay?” Pruitt asked.

“Of course. On a final note, I wanted to say I’m excited about this sports gathering tonight.”

“Oh, yeah?” asked Pruitt. “It should be a good time. I’m more excited for the game to be over, but that’s just me.”

“Well, just know that I, along with hundreds of straight bro football fanatics, will be rooting for you from the sidelines.”

“That’s comforting… I think,” said Pruitt. “Text me later? From there, we can figure out when I’m picking you up for the game.”

“Will do. Goodbye, Pruitt.”

“Goodbye, in,” added Pruitt before hanging up.

It’s totally stupid to feel butterflies in your stomach whenever a guy you like uses your full name, right? That’s what I thought , mused as he got up and made his way to his next class.

As reached a turn on the sidewalk that led him out of sight, he missed Quinn poking his head around the nearest building corner to the bench. “ Magical secret, huh? ” he asked aloud before pulling down the homecoming shirt that was now riding up his stomach.

“ By order of Mystic Hollow Police Department: Witch’s Brew Pub is closed ,” read aloud from a sign placed on the front door of the bar. “I suppose a paranormal bar brawl will do that.”

But walking all the way here just for that? I don’t think so.

followed the length of the building looking for signs of life. All he found was an absurd amount of yellow police tape. By the time he reached the alley-facing side of the bar, he stopped and sighed. “Damn. That’s it, huh?”

After waiting a few minutes in hopes of the fates responding to his obvious frustration, shrugged his shoulders and decided to head back to the dorm. As he made his way from the alley to the sidewalk, a gust of wind blew open a pair of cellar doors that led to another part of the building. These doors were not marked by police, but instead had a sign that read Apothecary Entrance.

could even see lights on. And it smells overwhelmingly like sage and incense, which—and I hate to stereotype—seems like I’m on to something.

Before he could work through the situation logically, felt his feet carrying him down the steps and through the door.

“H-hello?”

The room he found himself in was nothing like the tavern setting he had navigated during the vampire attack at the concert. Instead, it resembled what you might expect a business named Witch’s Brew to look like. “Whoa, so this is a straight-up magic shop.”

As he turned to the doors closing behind him, was surprised to see that his presence was already detected.

“ Straight up , indeed,” said the short old woman who now stood in front of what appeared to be ’s only exit. “And do you intend to cause a ruckus? You smell just like the werewolf who likes to trash the upstairs with his little vampire friends.”

“I do ?” took a whiff of himself. He assumed that a night at Pruitt’s might make him test positive for supernatural scents. “Well, I’m not a werewolf or a vampire.”

The woman—who might describe as a comically cute grandma, and who Uriah and Pruitt might recognize as their begrudging bartender earlier in the week—approached him and took a whiff of her own. “Hm, curious. Then I suppose you’re just a witch with terrible judgment. I’ll be in the back if you need me. A whole mess to clean up by myself.”

It surprised at how quickly the lady read his situation. “Uh, wait. Ma’am?”

“Hmph,” the woman replied as she pointed to a small name tag on her robes that read Old Mother Madge . “Yes?”

“Old Mother Madge, sorry. It’s just that you—well, you called me a witch,” began .

“And?”

“I thought there weren’t any more witches.”

Old Mother Madge walked around and up to the store’s cash register. Moving behind the set of countertops, she bent over and pulled out a familiar-looking book. “That’s only in the version I sell non-witches.”

“Hey! That’s the one I was reading.”

“Told you I smelled werewolf on you. Sold the same one to him.”

“Listen,” said as he approached the counter. “I’m, uh, a newbie to this stuff, as in just found out last night when I went to the Five Fangs concert you hosted upstairs—right around the time everyone started vamping out and chasing me.”

“Eh?” the woman pulled out a pair of spectacles and propped them on her nose. “No signs until now?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure,” hesitated. His lips opened to share more, but he couldn’t find the right words.

“Let me guess. You always thought you had some kind of sixth sense. Intuition, reading people, guessing the lottery.”

“Yes to all of that. I mean, except the lottery thing. But, uh, since you mentioned it, what are my chances?”

With the exception of the perturbed look on her face, Old Mother Madge ignored his inquiry. “Let’s see here then.” The woman hummed as she pulled up a web browser on the computer next to her register. She licked her thumb as though to flip the pages of a book and began typing away. “A witch with newly discovered powers, check. Suspicious scent of werewolf—and maybe even vampire, check. Oh, and here. Attacked by paranormal beings assumed either possessed or ravenous.”

Interesting, thought to himself.

The woman hit the enter key as though she were feeding an advanced algorithm in an online search engine. “Oh, and how could I forget?” She frantically typed away. “Located in Mystic Hollow, Massachusetts.”

The computer dinged instantly.

“What is it that you’re using, anyway?” he asked.

“Online magical generator. Advanced users only.”

rolled his eyes. “Well, what’s it say?”

Old Mother Madge jotted down a few notes from her on-screen results. “Let’s see. Well, I could’ve told you this myself based on how bad business is, but there are very few witches in Mystic Hollow—and for good reason. At least tell me you’re familiar with the origins of magic?”

“Uh, five original witches, right?”

“Hmph, not bad,” said Old Mother Madge. “While the roots of each bloodline run deep in Mystic Hollow, none of the Original Witches—at least to my knowledge—are still in the region. None—except for?—”

“Odessa?”

Old Mother Madge jumped up and down excitedly. “Oh, I just knew that hex went to good use.”

“Huh?”

“Odessa is well known in these parts. Those with a magic tongue know of her two playboy lovers, too. I don’t think they realized they’ve been called back here for a reason—and under the guise of silly college students, no doubt.”

shifted his weight. “Called back for?”

Old Mother Madge raised a finger as though to reveal something profound, but instead frowned and pulled her lips tight. She again disappeared underneath the counter. “Let me just bag you up a copy of this book. I suppose I’ve never had to deal with double-dipping in discounts, but given that you’re both a witch and a college student, I’ll even let you have it at twenty percent off.”

“Old Mother Madge, with all due respect, I need to know,” pushed back. “You see, I have reason to believe I’m from the same magic line as Odessa.”

The sound of the short and stout woman digging through wrapping paper and bags suddenly stopped.

“Descendant, hm?” Old Mother Madge popped up with a surprised look on her face. “I suppose that would explain why you’ve got on her necklace.”

I knew I should’ve hid this under my—wait! ’s hand reached for the piece of jewelry she was describing, but it was already tucked underneath both his shirt and sweatshirt. “ Wow. I’m just going to stop asking how people know things and cut to the nodding my head ‘yes’ part.”

“You’re the only college student in this town who deserves the abridged version then, I suppose,” the shopkeeper said with a long sigh. “Odessa is dead, yes, but she’s not gone. They say that the Original Witches never truly can die. In that sense, she must be biding her time in some cold cave or dark crypt below the city.”

“She’s buried here?”

“That’s what the book says. Well, approximately. What is your name, anyway, boy?”

“I-it’s .”

“ what?”

“ Kyler. Uh, in.”

“Really? Two last names?” Old Mother Madge adjusted her glasses as she studied his features. “Never the matter. Witches don’t have real last names, anyway. The point is that Odessa—unlike the other Original Witches—became spiteful when she learned that her power pool would be shared with her own blood. She thought for sure she had succeeded in drowning the last of her offspring—picked that little tidbit up on Witchipedia—but that clearly wasn’t the case.”

“Witchi-huh?”

The elder witch ignored his ask. “In any event, that’s when the real trouble started. Out of fear of being usurped by the other Original Witches—maybe even out of loneliness, too—she created two plagues to roam the earth: the First Vampire and your new friend?—”

“The First Werewolf.”

“Ah ha!” Old Mother Madge nodded. “But that wasn’t enough because in her eyes they, too, betrayed her. They left her—for one another. As punishment, she wiped their memories—leaving them to roam the earth alone and spread their disease. I thought for certain she must keep them around for when her time comes again, but perhaps—with you now in the equation—they serve a greater purpose.”

Holy shit, thought to himself. So, that’s what I’ve got myself into.

“If you look up the history of this town, there was an earthquake here in the eighteenth century. It killed everyone here, and the town had to be resettled,” continued Old Mother Madge. “It’s believed that the same quake buried her somewhere deep beneath the city.”

“Whoa,” was all that could muster as he processed everything.

“Her history of jealousy and her yearning for power make it clear why she’s now out to get you, I suppose. That necklace was hers over three hundred years ago. She’ll be wanting it back. I would, too. It’s quite important to her.”

“Really?” asked, pulling the pendant out and holding it in his hand.

“Most of my colleagues don’t buy into the fact that totems such as jewelry have direct control over one’s powers, but I tend to disagree.”

“So, there’s magic in this old thing?”

The shopkeeper held out her hand. “May I?”

nodded, pulling the chain over his head and placing the necklace in her palm.

“The original families of magic that survived Odessa’s sabotage detailed a unique tradition amongst generations,” the woman began, pulling out the book she had bagged up for and paging through it. “They spoke of some kind of magical totem or personal item that would be passed down to the greatest magic user in every generation. If you look here, you’ll see that something happened with each transition.”

followed the shopkeeper’s index finger as she pushed the book in front of him. An illustration showcased what appeared to be a beautiful mother and her young daughter. The mother’s fingers appeared to exude small, squiggly lines that represented some kind of energy—and on one of them, a ring. Below this depiction, a second, smaller drawing provided a more detailed view of the mother’s jewelry: a large red ruby gemstone on a gold ring.

“Witches never lose their powers,” added Old Mother Madge, moving her finger to the bottom of the page and to another set of drawings. “But to Odessa’s point, there is an understanding that a witch’s power may change—perhaps weaken—when the totem is passed down to the next in line.”

could see what Old Mother Madge meant. The black and white drawing here showed the same mother and daughter, but there were differences. The mother was seated now, and her hair—depicted as dark and flowing in the first illustration—was now only outlined, suggesting it had turned a bright white, and was not as full. Her daughter wore a new necklace now, and while it bore a striking resemblance to the ring showcased above, the pendant at its center was made up of a dozen smaller rubies surrounded by emerald, silver, and gold.

“So, what? Although I’m not one to mess with family heirlooms—considering I didn’t think I had any—it just looks like the young witch found a really talented goldsmith. That, and that mom lost her hook-up with the colorist at the salon.”

Old Mother Madge muttered something under her breath, but couldn’t make it out. “You are na?ve to the customs because they hardly exist anymore, so I cannot blame you. The heirloom transfer from one witch to another was once a rite of passage for the most gifted. It changes both the witches involved and the totem. It is, in a sense, giving the new witch total control over the original magic that runs through his or her family tree—all the magic that ever has been and ever will be part of their bloodline. This is exactly what Odessa intended to prevent.”

let out a gulp as he was handed back his necklace. “Uh, so, what do I do?”

Old Mother Madge smiled, her tiny hands pointing to a sign taped to her cash register. “ Magic advice, fifteen dollars ,” said as he read it aloud. She nodded.

Pulling several crumpled up bills from his pocket, placed them on the counter. Old Mother Madge carefully counted thirteen dollars before again pointing to the sign. This time, her finger tapped against the small text written below what had already read aloud.

“ This special offer cannot be combined with any discounts or coupons ,” read dryly. He pulled out a debit card and handed it over. “Can you just put it on the same bill as my book?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks. So, all of that being said, what is it that you think I should do to stop Odessa?”

“Thank you, ,” said Old Mother Madge before completing the transaction, bagging up his book, and pushing it across the counter to him. “Here’s what you do. I would kiss your vampire and werewolf friends goodbye, pack your bags, and take the next bus out of town.”

The woman turned around as though she were headed through a curtain with a sign above it with the lettering Employees Only .

“Wait, what!?” exclaimed .

“ What? ” the woman turned around. “You wanted my advice.”

“I was hoping for something a bit more, uh, magical—and maybe something with a happy ending,” a defeated replied.

“Do you accept that you’re a witch?”

wasn’t sure what to say. “Um, sure. I do.”

“You’re not convincing enough.”

“Please,” came again. “If I have to become a witch to protect the people I care about from getting hurt, then yes. If it’s truly my destiny, I accept it.”

Old Mother Madge seemed to be considering his plea.

“Also, those guys you were talking about—the werewolf and the vampire? They want to stop her, too. They’re not the ones responsible for what happened last night. From what we saw, we were the only supernatural patrons that weren’t possessed. I ended up on your back patio last night and was about to become vampire food when they rescued me. Then finally, at the last minute, I started levitating and some kind of light just shot out of my necklace and seemed to completely stop the mind control.”

“Curious. The First Witch responsible for all this, hm?” Old Mother Madge put her hands on her hips. “And no changes to your necklace?”

“No.”

“Then the power transfer isn’t complete. Have you told your familiars about your necklace?”

“My familiars?” racked his brain. “Like what, a cat?”

“Why?” Old Mother Madge’s eyes opened wide. “Have you seen one?”

“Actually, a big fat orange tabby was following me the other day just around here and?—”

“Oh, no, no. Prospero is my familiar. Good boy. Great at keeping the mice out, not so great with anything to do with magic.”

The cat I ran into the first night here belongs to her? “What a small town,” exclaimed.

“In your case, your coven’s familiar— or familiars —are the very creation of Odessa,” she continued. “The vampire and the werewolf.”

My two biggest crushes are my magical familiars? asked himself before replying. “You mean Uriah and Pruitt?”

The witch nodded.

“They know everything I just told you.”

“And can you trust them, ?”

“I can. Why?”

“Without her necklace and without you, Odessa is weak. Uriah and Pruitt—like in most familiar-witch dynamics, with the exception of me and my lazy cat—are also part of her power source. Yours, too. Without any of those three things, she can’t fully physically manifest herself because her magic is spread too thin. She would need help.”

“Help from who?”

With the shake of her head, Old Mother Madge shrugged. “My first guess would be the vampire and werewolf as they were her familiars to begin with, but?—”

“I said I trust them.”

“Do you?”

“I do,” said sternly, though even he questioned if his heart was playing too big of a role in his decision-making.

“Then perhaps another witch here in the mortal realm is helping her. Has Odessa spoken to you?”

“You mean like called me?”

“Well, I meant more like got into your head, or maybe she spoke to you through those vampires last night. I don’t know if they have great cell phone reception down below.”

had a flashback to his dream. Odessa’s flowing white hair gave him the chills even now. He opened his eyes and came back to reality. “Uh, if nightmares count. But she hasn’t given me any clues.”

“Dreams, hm? How prophetic. Uh, pass me that pen?”

pulled one from a small cup closest to his side of the register and passed it across the counter.

Old Mother Madge grabbed for a notepad, scribbling as she spoke. “Odessa’s options are these: use magic on earth to possess a host to kill you, use magic on earth so she may retrieve her pendant to kill you, or some combination of the two to ultimately kill the greatest source of her power so that she can absorb it for herself.” Old Mother Madge tapped the service bell on the counter for special effect before adding three more words. “That’s also you.”

“And how do I get her to stop? To leave me alone?”

“If you’re in time, all you need to do is destroy her magical connection with earth. If this is a witch, their connection to her must be severed.”

“Okay, fair enough. And how do I do that? I mean, find out who she’s controlling?”

“Where’s your grimoire?”

“My what? ”

“Magic book I believe is what the kids are calling it today. It should’ve come with your pendant.”

“You mean there’s a bundled set?” shrugged. “My adopted mother gave this to me when I was young. She told me it was the only thing my original family left for me. Said they were dead.”

“Hm,” Old Mother Madge pondered aloud. “I have a feeling you’ll find it yet still. For the time being, it looks like you’ll need a couple one-off pages to hold onto until it’s time to fill in your own. And don’t worry, I won’t charge for these because they’re beginner magic, really.”

Three worn, oversized pages of papyrus floated to the countertop from different areas of the shop. Once again, was perplexed. “Hold on, did you just use telekinesis to do that?”

“Telekinesis, magic… Call it what you will. You can do it, too, yes?”

“I-I guess, but I don’t know how to trigger it.”

“Interesting,” said Old Mother Madge. “Beginner witches are told to channel things with their emotions. I recommend using this technique, but what has helped me the most is to have complete confidence in every action I desire. Try it.”

The pages floated in the air again, spinning in a perfect circle above their heads. watched in awe. “Wow, I-I’m doing that.”

“Wasn’t that hard, was it?” the elder witch said with a smile before snapping her fingers. “Now, cut it out.” The pages fell to the counter between them, covering a small posted sign that read All Magic Use Inside Witch’s Brew Strictly Forbidden .

“Now, look,” the shopkeeper pointed at the first page. The heading read To Break a Witch’s Bond . “You are a beginner, but this one will work if you say the right things at the right time.”

“The right time?”

“Odessa’s connection to this earth must be someone close to you. Someone that perhaps you don’t know is a witch. Repeat the lines here,” Old Mother Madge said, pointing at the spell, “and follow the little guide below for what required items, if any. For example, with this one, all you need to do is hold the witch’s possession in your hand. In this case, as we are referring to Odessa, hold onto the necklace.”

Old Mother Madge flipped to the next worn out page. “To Induct a Legacy Witch,” she read aloud. “Something every witch should have in their armament. This is part of what you saw in the drawings in your book and is how the original families continue that tradition today.”

“Requirements,” read aloud as his finger traced the words on the page. “The blood of the witches, both old and new, mixed together on the totem due… Kind of sing-songy, am I right? So, I gotta get her to bleed on my necklace, and then I have to bleed, too?”

Madge nodded. “Some of these, they’re very literal. This is a simple household spell, but it might be just what you need if you encounter Odessa again. Get the blood and say the chant.”

“All right. I can maybe do that. And what’s this one?”

reached to pull away the second page so he could get to the third, but the shopkeeper stopped him. “I just want to preface this last one with a word of wisdom passed down from witch to witch since the beginning of magic. Familiars, as you know them, also come from magic. And what do we know of magic?”

raised a brow. “Um, it’s genetic?”

Old Mother Madge shook her head. “Well, perhaps, but that’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Dangerous?”

Old Mother Madge shrugged. “Closer.”

“Good? Evil? Uncontrollable?”

“, magic is neither good nor evil. It depends upon the person—or creature—wielding it. You are right about one thing, though. I was taught at a very young age that no matter how strong or gifted you may be, that ultimately magic was not made to be controlled or regulated. It is, at its core, wild. So, yes, uncontrollable is right. For this reason, every witch needs to have a failsafe. This page has three of them.”

watched anxiously as Old Mother Madge peeled away the second page to reveal the third.

“Oh, wow. No way, Old Mother Madge,” replied, visibly upset after reading it. “I don’t mean to disrespect you or your knowledge—in fact, I’m extremely grateful for everything—but I don’t think I’m interested in these. Besides, familiars can’t hurt their own witch, can they?”

“By magic code, it is forbidden. You are correct there. But all of these—they’re just a precaution, . Magic, as we said, is uncontrollable in its raw form. Just like with the others, you must say these words in order for it to be so. The more advanced your magic is, you may not even have to say them. Just thinking them will do the trick.”

“All right,” said, swallowing hard. “I-I’ll keep these in mind.”

“Good,” Old Mother Madge said, her voice unwavering. She rolled the three pages up and slid them into a protective cylinder before placing it into ’s shopping bag. “This should preserve them until you’ve got your grimoire.”

“So, does that mean she can possess them—uh, Pruitt and Uriah?”

Old Mother Madge looked as though she were about to speak—her mouth open—but she stopped. All she did was nod yes.

“Okay. And what about me? Can she possess me, too?”

“Good question,” Old Mother Madge asked. She browsed through her handwritten notes, then moved back to her computer. With a few clicks of her mouse, she sighed. “Now, no. You’ll want to keep the necklace on, though. If it comes off and something bad happens, I would advise you to consult with your familiars about the third spell on that last page you so dislike.”

“Do you know anything else, um, about my familiars? Is it common to have two?”

“I don’t subscribe to prophecies, but there’s been many written about your lineage. You’re the only witch I’ve ever personally known to have two familiars, but it’s said there was another,” said Old Mother Madge as she typed away again. “They, along with their two familiars, fought an Original Witch and sent them to the Great Afterlife. Something, something, magical Triad .”

“ Triad , huh?” asked.

“Wish I could tell you more, but I quite literally can’t.”

“Why? Because you don’t believe in it?”

She shook her head.

“Because I have to pay another fifteen bucks?”

“No,” grunted Old Mother Madge as she pointed to her computer screen. “It’s behind a paywall. You try to be a small business owner and pay for every subscription service.”

A perplexed blinked. “Uh, all right. Maybe one day.”

“Maybe,” Old Mother Madge said with a smile. “Anything else I can help you with today?”

shifted his feet. “Pruitt and Uriah—they told me something about you. Something about not being able to smell that you were a witch, but that they could smell me.”

“Cloaking spell. Advanced magic. Protects you from pretty much everything except witches, I’m afraid, so it might not come in handy for Odessa. However, very handy when a mob of vampires is chasing you through my establishment. Interested? I’ll have to place an order.”

“I am, but maybe after I stop the whole evil ancestor trying to kill me thing,” replied . “I’ll come back in when I know more.”

“Well, before you leave, then,” began Old Mother Madge, moving around the counter and over to a nearby shelf. “You won’t want to miss out on the special I’m running on these handcrafted beauties. What with my income chopped in half until the police department gives me the okay to reopen—and a bunch of vampires running around doing who knows what—I found this fitting for more reasons than one. Small enough to hide in a boot or even a shoe for safe keeping. You just never know.”

As Old Mother Madge pulled out a basket full of custom wooden stakes and displayed it on the countertop, hesitated before deciding what to do next.