Page 2 of Big Witch Energy

“Is there such a thing as a minor felony?” Alice wondered aloud. “If it’s a question of lighters, Riley, I think Willard keeps one under the register. Also, why does Willard have so many candles in a shop full of flammable items?”

“He thinks it adds ambience,” Caroline told her. “Even if they’re unlit most of the time.”

“Come on, I think it will be good for us, practicing a basic magical skill under duress,” Riley implored. “It’s not like the more hostile ghosts give us ‘try again’ chances while we’re working with them, and that’s with skills that we’re actually pretty good at.”

“Does ‘haven’t gotten us seriously injured yet’ qualify as ‘pretty good’?” Alice asked.

“You are grumpy when you’re asked to stay up past midnight,” Riley marveled.

“I get up at five thirty every morning to open the store,” Alice countered.

Caroline frowned. “But you don’t open until eleven.”

“Yes, but my grandparents call the landline at six thirty, and if I’m not there, they pitch a fit that can be heard all the way from Boca Raton,” Alice sighed. “It’s easier just to get up early, even if it means keeping old-lady hours.”

“We have got to get you a new job, sweetie,” Caroline told her.

“Maybe Willard is hiring,” Alice snorted. “Meanwhile, we’ve spent more time talking about me than it probably would have taken to light the candles with magical means or otherwise.”

“I already did one!” Riley said, doing a happy little dance as she gestured to the flickering flame of a nearby hurricane lamp. Her cap of dark-blond Denton hair bounced around her elfin face as she enjoyed her moment of victory. Magic had come to them all late in life, and to Riley, every successful spell that did not result in loss of limb or eyebrow was a moment to be savored. “I did what Aunt Nora’s books said, pictured the bright light of the candle, and I could feel it growing in my chest, like the flame started near my heart! And boom, fire! Well, not boom. Fortunately, there was no boom, but still, I have made fire! With magic!”

“While we were talking? That’s cheating!” Alice gasped, just a little too loudly.

“Could we not yell while committing the minor felony?” Caroline asked, glancing toward the front windows of the shop. It was supremely unhelpful that the stained glass kept her from being able to see people approaching from the outside. But she could hear something, scratching noises from the far corner of the room, near a particularly creepy display of ventriloquism dummies. It was like her brain couldn’t quite catch up to the noise, but she suspected the horrors of unsecured puppets had something to do with that.

“Still not sure that’s a thing,” Riley said, still smirking. “And just think of how many candles we could light if we did it together.”

“We could burn down the entire shop, which is a big felony,” Caroline noted.

“That’s a good point,” Riley admitted, chewing her lip. “But you still want to try it, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, clearly, I do,” Caroline shot back, laughing despite herself. She joined hands with Riley and Alice, her coven, the sisters she chose, even if the magic had chosen for her first. The familiar sizzle of that unearthly force zipped up her arm, straight to her heart. It made it so much easier for Caroline to imagine the warm glow of a flame building inside of her, wanting to burn, wanting to be. They giggled together, nervous about trying one of the more practical areas of magic that seemed to elude them, for some reason. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth growing, just as Riley described. It spread to the air around them and when Caroline opened her eyes, the room was bathed in golden light from dozens of flames—in lanterns, in candles, even a little Marilyn-Monroe-in-the-fluted-white-dress votive whose taste level Caroline found seriously lacking.

“Look at that!” Caroline laughed, clapping her hands over her mouth. Alice rolled her eyes, but she was laughing too.

“You have to admit, that’s pretty cool,” Riley said, her gray eyes glowing in triumph.

Caroline heard it again, the scratching that wasn’t quite scratching. It did sound like whispering, and not particularly happy whispering. It sounded irritable, like the mutterings of someone who didn’t think they’d be heard.

“It is very cool, and we don’t appear to be in danger of committing arson, so let’s get down to business, shall we?” Alice suggested brightly. She placed her hand on the nearest display counter.

The whispering got louder.

“OK, everybody else hears that, right?” Riley said quietly, glancing around the now well-lit room.

“Sounds like my grandmother after a couple of martinis,” Alice said, tugging at her ear gently like she was trying to pop it.

“I’ll have you know that I have never been drunk a day in my life!” a cranky voice rasped to their right.

Caroline should have known better. One of the weirder parts of Caroline’s new magical gifts was being able to detect which objects were attached to a ghost. Or vice versa, really. While several items in the antique shop gave her nerves a small ping, the four cake stands—elevated cake plates with clear domes meant to display baked goods—to her left were sending psychic shivers down her spine. It just happened to be the counter where Alice was resting her hand.

As Willard had promised, each stand contained a wax replica blueberry pie air freshener. Caroline was very grateful the smell was contained under glass. The cake stands weren’t the prettiest thing in the shop—but they exuded a certain power. These glass pieces—the largest fancy handblown glass, the others cheaper pressed pieces—were significant, especially to Sally Fairlight, who appeared behind them, looking very annoyed. And Alice’s hand was resting right on top of the largest cake stand in the center of the counter. Of course, Alice’s expert eye would be attracted to the good one—the favorite in Sally’s collection, based on her reaction.

“Don’t touch that!” Sally’s ghost yanked the glass stand back, out of Alice’s hands. Sally had been a “forceful” woman in life. She certainly hadn’t gotten weaker after death. The lid tumbled off its plinth in the struggle, rolling on its rounded side. A wave of synthetic fruit smell struck Caroline in the face, knocking her back a step.

Sally’s translucent fingers wrapped around the round glass knob on top of the cake stand, pulling it back. A wax pie had fallen into the lid in the struggle. Its weirdly fragile wax shell broke, and the unnatural berry filling oozed out. The ghost peered down at the mess. And then she grinned as if she’d just granted a gift and an idea all at once.

“Oh, no,” Riley whispered.

---