He straightens his vest. “I appreciate the confidence you have in me.”
“I do, Mr. Yeats. You have proven yourself. You’re not nearly as irritating as you used to be.”
He smiles as he fluffs his bowtie, but the corners of his mouth fall flat.
Thursday evening, I rush from my late class to my metallic-blue Prius, zipping up my hoodie as I go. The air is chilly despite the bright sunshine that brought warm temps earlier in the day. But the sky is clear. Stars twinkle across the indigo canvas above as the crescent moon lights their display.
I zip along Manor Road to Agnes’s farmhouse where the Fellowship is having their meeting. As I pull up, my high beams illuminate the new white siding and black shutters. The exterior of the hedge witch’s home has a fresh appearance after the completed renovations—an amazing transformation from its prior state. The dingy clapboard was rotting away.
I park and discover Archie waiting for me on her newly painted front porch, an exterior sconce spotlighting his gorgeous face. When I reach the top step, he kisses me. I inhale the scent of his woodsy cologne and a calm sets in.
“Mmm. I miss the aroma of your aftershave. You trimmed your goatee, too.”
“For later, my love,” he says, winking. “I worried you wouldn’t make it on time. Everyone is here. Elijah and Jessica Devine just walked into the meeting. It will be interesting to hear what she has to say.”
“Nothing great, I’m sure. The allies on the council have lost their patience. If it weren’t for Elijah, she wouldn’t have waited this long to address us.”
We enter the foyer to find Agnes lecturing the young witches about removing their shoes. Her salt and pepper hair cuts across her pale, wrinkled face, casting shadows in the glow of the brand-new light fixture overhead. I look around appreciatively—the coven and our Unremarkable friends converted her outdated home into a modern showcase. Who would think the hedge witch would give a shit?
“I shouldn’t have to remind you every fucking time. You take off your fucking shoes at the door. Don’t you see the shoe rack?”
Skye bends over to untie her sneakers. “Sorry, Agnes. It’s hard to get used to. You never cared before.”
“We forgot,” Spence says. “So, shoot us with a magic bolt.”
She scowls at him as she rubs her back. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I took mine off the first time I entered.” Tanner points to his feet. “But that’s because I did most of the refinishing on the floors. I care about my work.”
Spence moves his lips silently, playfully mocking his partner. “You’re just trying to stay on her good side. It’s not like I didn’t help. I did a lot of painting.”
“Well, I’ll give you that,” the hedge witch says, rolling her pale-gray eyes.
Tyler glares at her. “We all did, Agnes. You should be more appreciative of the labor we put in. Hi, Mom. Hi, Archie.”
“Hello, dear. How are you, Zoe?”
The hedge witch snickers. “I like you, Tyler. You have spunk, like your mom. The rest of you, come on. Get a move on. The mayor is waiting.”
“Hi, Gwyn,” Zoe says, her big brown eyes shining. “I’m doing great. I got a job working at the town museum. They were excited to get someone with a Celtic Studies background, since the area has so much Welsh and Scottish influence.”
Archie interjects. “That’s wonderful. Who says a degree in Celtic Studies is worthless?”
Spence and Skye raise their hands, smirking.
Everyone laughs, but Archie scowls in their direction, unamused. We all remove our sneakers and place them on the rack. Chatter from the living room trickles into the foyer.
“Hurry up,” Agnes says. “I don’t want this meeting lasting longer than it needs to. I need my shut-eye.”
She corrals us into her beautiful space for entertaining, which bears touches of both old and new. Not wanting to throw out all the furniture she collected over the years, we put a fresh coat of paint on most of the pieces. We find seats on her refurbished wooden kitchen chairs next to the new sofa and loveseat Leslie bought for her.
I scan the room. Elijah leans on the fireplace where he’s talking with Mayor Devine. He towers over her average height figure. Shane arranges pillows behind Ronnie’s back on the sofa while Agnes and Leslie settle into the loveseat perpendicular to them. The young witches lounge on the floor, squeezing in wherever they can. Zoe leans back against Tyler and grins at me. Not much can put a frown on her cheerful face—always the optimist.
Trinity Johnson, our coven leader and Director of A Family for All—the local LGBTQ support group—pushes up from a kitchen chair and quells the prattle to start the meeting. A woman in her 60s, she has a powerful presence, and not only because she stands at nearly six feet in height. Wrinkles form in the velvety brown skin on her forehead.
“Hi, everyone. We have plans to finalize for next week’s Samhain-Halloween open house. Ronnie, what a fantastic idea you had to engage the community. The more often we invite Unremarkables to our celebrations, the more they will embrace the Fellowship’s existence. Who knows when our secret may surface unintentionally? Creating closer connections with them will help us prepare for that possibility.”
“Thanks,” Ronnie says. “Halloween is a fun time for the town. Better to spend it creating solid relationships with Unremarkables than with the Otherworld.”
Trinity nods, her jade-green eyes gleaming. “But first, Mayor Jessica Devine would like to address the coven with her concerns.”
Elijah faces us, the ceiling light shining on his warm brown skin. “Before the mayor speaks, I want to remind everyone how supportive she has been. She has kept our secret under wraps, except for Corey Jones and Jeremiah Jackson, of course. But she is concerned about the lack of progress in closing the portal in the mound.” He motions to Jessica and sits next to Shane on the sofa.
“I commend the efforts you have made thus far, and I recognize you have forfeited much of your leisure time in your search. However, I can speak for Jeremiah and Corey as well as myself, when I say the threat of other beings invading our town through that portal frightens us. I am grateful you were forthcoming with the information surrounding the…what was it called?”
“A Dearg Due,” Elijah replies. “A vampire-like ghoul.”
Her already pallid face goes almost white. “Yes. It killed so many young men in our town. You must do more to eliminate creatures from slipping through the opening in the future. The recent kidnapping of that woman’s baby. Should we worry another creature has crossed over? Or perhaps the Seelie Fae children took him?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “When I asked them about it, they appeared surprised. The police suggest it’s the crime ring from PA.”
“We understand your concerns,” Leslie says. “The Bearsden Coven formed years ago with the sole intention of helping this community, and we continue to abide by our original intent. But we must also acknowledge we may not discover a portal-closing spell in the immediate future. Should beings cross over, we will defend the community from their malicious intents.”
The mayor wipes her face with a trembling hand. “That’s not comforting when people’s lives are at risk.”
My witch family is silent, a few coughs and clearing of throats the only sounds in the room. What does she expect from the coven? We’re doing our best. Elijah stands and approaches Jessica.
