Page 22 of Witchy Chick

Someone knocked on the door, a series of thuds that had me heading to the entryway instead of the kitchen.

I opened the door, and there on the porch was Scilla Miller, looking nervous in her dyed dark hair. “Hi!” she said brightly, waving like we weren’t two feet apart. Her glance fell onto the alligator book, and her face went five times paler. “Oh. That’s… Where did you get that?” Her eyes met mine, all pretend cheer drained out of her.

“It was in the library. It’s such an awkward size. Why do people make square books? They never fit anywhere. Can I help you?”

She blinked a few times and regained her smile. “You just found it. In the library. Where else would you find a book?” She laughed, but there was a thread of hysteria to it.

“Do you want to come in? I can make us some decaffeinated green tea.”

She stared at me for a blink then stepped inside, looking around like she’d never seen it before. “Okay. Thank you. If I’m not bothering you too much.”

“It’s no trouble. I was getting a headache from reading through my phone, anyway. The kitchen’s this way, but of course you know that.”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve never been inside before.”

I glanced at her. “Oh. That seems strange.”

Her smile was apologetic. Everything about her was apologetic. “Well, the house doesn’t like me.”

“The house doesn’t like you?” I glanced at the dark molding on my right. The wood was lovely, but hardly had the ability to like or dislike people, right?

She shrugged her narrow shoulders and kept looking around, wary, like the house might bite her.

“It’s a great house,” I said, feeling weird, almost like I needed to reassure the old thing.

“Of course it is! It’s the best! I just didn’t think I’d ever see it welcome a family in so warmly. It’s very selective.”

I stared at her. She really thought the house wouldn’t let her in? Right. Magic. She bought the entire package. Why not have a magical house that could like or dislike people? “Anyway, maybe you can explain some things to me while we’re waiting for the tea to steep. You don’t mind coming to the kitchen, do you? Otherwise, we can go to the parlor, but I haven’t cleaned in there yet. Everything is so dusty.”

She shook her head violently. “Oh, no! The kitchen is great! Perfect, really. The kitchen is always the heart of a home.”

I nodded like that made sense, and it did, but now it seemed she was referring to some kind of literal sense. Like you could kill a house if you took out its kitchen heart.

Once we got there, I felt slightly self-conscious about the pink stove, but I wasn’t trying to be perfect anymore. Which was why I wasn’t wearing makeup. She was going to think I was always a mess. Which, to be fair, I basically was these days.

“So, what brings you to Hoar House?” I asked, putting a kettle on the stove. At least it was gas. I hated trying to cook on coils.

“Oh. I thought maybe we should talk about Donny and Sage.”

I nodded and sat down, gesturing her to sit across from me. “That’s a great idea. What about them?”

She hesitated then blurted, “I don’t think you should’ve hurt her. It’s easy to tip over from dark to evil, and the answer isn’t violence.”

I stared at her, shocked that she’d say it like that, like I’d hit my children. “Wow. Are you going to call child protection services on me?”

She raised her hands. “No, of course not. I’m just trying to help you understand. You don’t seem to know what to do with her and her gifts. If you’re a healer, you wouldn’t know about dark magic or evil. And I understand wanting to teach someone really strong lessons, but violence isn’t the answer. What you did to her when you hit her was much worse than what she did to Donny.”

I blinked at her and leaned back. She actually thought I’d hit my own daughter. Instead, it had been much weirder. What a perfect segue into madness. “I didn’t hit my daughter. I gave her his pain, drop for drop. She’s experiencing empathy, not violence, except for the violence she inflicted on him. I wouldn’t have intentionally done that, but it was instinctive. All of this is very new to me.” I gestured at the book I’d put on the table.

She gave it a quick glance. “You’re new to magic?”

“The manifestation of energy through emotions, yes. I’m not comfortable with the term magic. It makes it sound so silly. And what my daughter did to your brother was not silly.”

She stared at me for a long time, finally saying, “You’re new to magic?”

I almost rolled my eyes, but I didn’t know her well enough for that. Clearly, she was going to use that term, so I might as well get comfortable with it. “Yes. It seems like the weirdness started with the house. Do you think it triggered something? Although, Sage was throwing around garbage cans with her energy before we moved to Hoar House.” I was almost sure that was what had happened, as ridiculous as it seemed.

“The house? No. It couldn’t give you magic if you didn’t already have it.”