Chapter twoDestiny

As I meander on the maze of red paver walkways through the Green, I soak in the colorful pom-poms of burgundy, yellow, and white mums. The Old Men oak trees clutch their turned leaves, refusing to let go. By November, the iconic landmarks on Central Campus will resemble skeleton-like elders watching over all of us. I skip over the fallen acorns, recalling that eventful evening when the Sluagh swiped my legs, throwing me on my ass. That was the first night I saw amber magic shoot out of my hand and Archie kissed me in front of his fireplace.

I grin, remembering how stubborn I was. Yet the Scottish professor refused to let me go home, insisting I drive to his house and ice my butt and the back of my head. Until that night, my life had followed a different trajectory, the path of an Unremarkable—those who aren’t in the knowing of all things magical and supernatural. Then destiny made its play and won.

Despite the horrendous incidents I’ve experienced and witnessed since then, I’ll never go back. I relish the love and devotion of a wonderful man and the friendships of a devoted witch family. I fully accept my destiny as an ancestral witch and will do all I can to protect my community from the evil the portal in the mound has exposed us to. Of course, that requires me to continue my preparation for the arrival of the Tuatha Dé Danann and the unknown malevolent beings yet to find the aperture into our world.

When I arrive home at Leslie’s small Tudor house on Drummond Lane, I nudge the red side door with my hip and enter the mudroom. I kick off my sneakers and hang my fleece jacket on a hook, dropping my backpack and purse on the floor below. Mr. Yeats, Leslie’s chimera cat familiar, presents in his human persona wearing his standard three-piece gray suit and spectacles. He glares with his yellow and blue eyes and immediately pounces on me, gesturing to his clipboard with its accompanying agenda.

“Good evening, Ms. Crowther,” he says in a thick Irish brogue. “You have arrived much later than expected. Dinner will be late.”

“I appreciate your assistance,” I say. “But monitoring my every movement wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to help me stay organized this semester.”

Leslie ambles into her yellow kitchen with its outdated countertops and chides him. “At least allow Gwynedd time to catch a breath before you attack her with your schedule of her activities.”

“I’m doing as instructed,” he says, adjusting his spectacles. “Do not forget the conference with your mum this week as well. As a reminder, Mr. Wolfe is expected. I’ll be in the magic room if you need me.” He transforms into a chimera cat, half ginger and half black, and scuttles down the hallway.

I wipe my face. “I almost forgot. This could be traumatic for Tyler.”

My son has known about my conferencing with his grandparents in the Otherworld but hasn’t asked to talk with them. He’s still not sure he’s ready. Being thrusted into the world of magic scared the shit out of him. But I’m not going to lie. I’m happy to have him practice witchcraft beside me. He’s impressed me with his witch training, which he’ll need if Nuada’s Tuatha Dé family arrives.

“I wouldn’t worry about your son.” Leslie pushes her silver side bangs off her face, exposing her copper eyes and pallid, wrinkled skin. “He accepted his witch status with ease. Much better than you, I might add.”

“Let’s not dredge that up. You know, the way you went about it was far from honest. You put my life in danger…and Tyler’s.”

“I am deeply sorry for my past transgressions. But I won’t apologize for pushing you to fulfill your role in the coven.” She lays her knobby fingers on mine. “Without you and Tyler, we would have never harnessed the power to fight the Kenilworths and save our town. For that, I am grateful. And for bringing Agnes back to me. I’ve never been this happy in my life, and I owe it all to you.”

I smile, thinking of my hedge witch mentor, Agnes Pritchard. Should the Elder thank me or curse me for bringing them together now so late in her life? They say opposites attract. I pull out a frying pan and a quart sized pot to whip up a quick meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup.

“I’m going to cook us dinner, and when we’re done, I’ll take a serving of each to Archie.”

“Thank you, my dear. I’m so tired. This was a long Friday. It ended with a meeting with the two TAs. Spence and Skye are doing very well, but Spence needs guidance. He’s knowledgeable but can go on tangents during lectures. I never worry about Skye.” Leslie sets her spindly body onto a kitchen chair and rests her arms on the table.

“Why does that not surprise me?” I say, pouring the soup in and turning on the burner.

“I’ve spent some time researching the Welsh folklore, but nothing resembles the supernatural being in your vision. Did you have any luck with Dr. Duffy?”

I exhale as I butter the bread and place it in the frying pan. “No. I’ve not had a lot of time to spend on it with my studies. I have a capstone project to complete this year in order to graduate with my Master’s in Public Policy. Seamus has been so helpful, but I think it’s more important to finish scouring the remaining grimoires for a portal-closing spell. If we close the opening in the Celestial Gardens, we’ll eliminate that entry into our town. That should be the priority.”

“It would please our allies on the council as well. They pressure us monthly on the subject. Elijah says they’re extremely frustrated with the coven.”

Elijah Jackson, the gentle giant of a man, runs the Bearsden Shelter and serves on the city council. He has had a tough job calming the nerves of the council members who are in the knowing. A notification vibrates my phone on the kitchen table. Leslie reads the text.

“It’s Ronnie. You should reply to her.”

I flip our grilled cheese sandwiches and pick up my cell.

Ronnie: Don’t forget you’re going to my birthing class with me tomorrow!

I send a reply to my best friend, Veronica Baldwin.

Me: I won’t. The date is in my calendar. I’m looking forward to it.

Ronnie: Thank you so much for agreeing to go at the last minute.

Me: No problem. Not your fault Derek has to work.

Ronnie: Yeah. Jamal didn’t plan on getting appendicitis.

Me: It will be fun. It’s been what…almost thirty years since I attended one.

Ronnie: Ha! I’m sure the classes have changed! See you tomorrow.

Me: I’ll meet you there!

“Ronnie was reminding me about attending her birthing class with her tomorrow. Derek can’t go because one of his fitness trainers is in the hospital recovering from appendicitis. You can’t plan for things like that.”

“Indeed. Life presents unexpected challenges. All we can do is approach them head on.” She smiles widely. “I’m so excited about this baby. A new witch being born into the coven is always a day to celebrate.”

“Well, let’s remember that her child may be born without magical instincts. Derek acts as if he’d be happier if his offspring were devoid of magic.”

Derek Young, Ronnie’s partner, owns a fitness center. He’s a few years younger than her and is an Unremarkable, but he’s also in the knowing, having discovered our secret when he walked in on Ronnie, Tyler, and me when I was showing my son the powers of Archie’s family dirk. He supports her witchery but has reservations about raising a child to be a witch. It’s a dangerous path. Who can blame him?

“Witch or not, I am ecstatic for her,” Leslie says. “She deserves this blessing.”

“She certainly does. Her life was hard. I’m so happy she found Derek. He loves her very much.”

I set the soup and sandwiches on the table and sit down across from her. The aroma of melted cheese and butter prompts my stomach to growl.

“This smells wonderful. The perfect meal for a fall Friday dinner.” Leslie slurps a spoonful of soup. “Agnes will be sorry she missed this meal with us. I invited her, but she said she wasn’t up to the drive. I think she’s having too much fun cooking in her renovated kitchen.”

“Probably. You’ve been spending more and more time at her farm. Will you ever move in together?” It’s an invasive question, but I rent a room from her. If she moved out and sold the house, I’d be homeless again.

“We both enjoy our independence, but it has crossed my mind. I’ve suggested she move in here and sell the farm. It’s much too big a property to care for, and the land requires immense upkeep. But she will never give up her garden and her…plants.”

I laugh, because she’s referring to the marijuana she grows in her garden along with other herbs. A hedge witch needs a large garden. As for Agnes staying put, I’m relieved. When she moved in for that short time while her kitchen was being completed, it was a tad crowded in this tiny home. Far too small for three adults and a familiar. I finish the last bite of my sandwich and put my dishes in the sink.

“I better take Archie’s dinner to him,” I say. “He’s starved by now.”

“You can’t keep your man waiting. I will load the dishwasher. Tell him I hope he’s recovered enough to cover his classes on Monday.”

“He should feel much better by then. He’s icing his butt all weekend.” I place his dinner in a bag and head toward the door.

“Leslie, I want you to know I’m not angry anymore. Life’s too short to stew over what was meant to be.”

She lifts her chin. “Indeed.”