Page 3 of These Charms Won't Fade
I pull back and study Gem, and though her smile is small, it’s genuine. Gemma was the first non-witch to receive official Council approval to learn about Elementals, Casters, and Blood Witches, thanks in part to her help in defeating the Witch Hunters.
Since then, she’s even counseled a few of the witches who initially lost their magic in the Hunter attacks, too. Gemma is well-respected within the Council, and I hate to think everything she’s done for us is keeping her from finding the lasting relationship she’s said she wants.
The timer goes off for the garlic bread, and together, we finish setting the table. Now that we’re down two of the anticipated members of our dinner party, there’s way too much food. Maybe I can pawn off some of it with the Lesko boys at the coven meeting tomorrow. Those two are eating their parents out of house and home.
With a flick of my fingers, I light the candles at the center of the table, the fire eager to answer my call. It took a long time to fully make peace with the element again after losing my home—and my father—in a house fire (not to mention a former classmate trying to burn me at the stake shortly after that) but after lots of therapy, I’m glad to know fire as a friend again.
The three witches at the table give thanks to the Sister Goddesses who created our Clans, and then we dig in. Conversation flows seamlessly between work and plans for the solstice tomorrow and reminiscing about the shared people in our pasts.
Gemma still regularly sees my old boss from the Fly By Night Cauldron, since Lauren is the high priestess for the Wiccan coven Gemma belongs to here in Salem. Which means Gemmaalsoregularly sees Ryan Archer, the former Council-member who lost his magic and his memories in the battle against the Witch Hunters. Ryan and Lauren are married now, with four-year-old twins, who Gemma babysits on occasion.
“Any signs that the girls might have inherited Archer’s magic?” I ask, shooting a worried glance at Cal. He knew Archer before any of us, having worked with him on the Council before the two of them came to Salem. When Archer sacrificed his memories, Cal lost a close friend and mentor, a bittersweet grief he’s said has been hard to shake.
“Not that I can tell,” Gemma admits, nudging the few remaining pieces of ziti around her plate. “I mean, with Blood Witches and Elementals there’d be obvious signs. Kids spinning up mini tornados when they don’t get their way or healing from scraped knees in seconds. I don’t really know what to look for in the girls. Could they brew potions without proper training?”
Cal shakes his head. “I don’t think so. At least, not this young. It’s possible, though, that what they learn about herbs from Lauren might be enough for them to stumble upon their magic when they’re older. If they have any.”
“What would the Council do if theydidshow signs of magic?” Morgan asks. “Archer didn’t account for kids in his instructions, did he?”
“He didn’t, no. We’ve been in a bit of a holding pattern. Unless the girls show signs of magic, the Council has decided not to intervene or get close enough to test them. And if they do show those signs… we might have to tell Ryan, despite his original wishes. Even if he doesn’t want his own magic back, he needs to know what’s going on with his children. We could provide the girls with mentors if that’s what he wants.”
I offer him a gentle smile. “I know at least one person who would be excellent for the job.”
A flush warms Cal’s cheeks, but he doesn’t meet my eye. Instead, he wraps his hands around the ice water he switched to after his first glass of wine, rubbing little circles in the condensation.
“Cal?” I prompt, a sense of unease on the air. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just— I actually have some Council business I need to talk to you about.” He takes a long swallow of water before setting the cup back on the table. “It’s a little related to Ryan. And… your dad.”
The mention of my dead father sends a jolt of surprise and grief down my spine. It’s been nearly a decade now, but the instinctual gut-punch has never gone away. Morgan’s hand settles over mine a moment later, her Blood Magic spreading through my body to soothe the hurt before it can fully bloom.
“What about them?” I ask once I’m certain I can keep my voice steady.
Cal studies us, his eyes resting on the place where Morgan’s hand covers mine. “Ever since you two discovered the power of mixing our Clans’ different magics, the Council has been studying the phenomenon. We’ve made some progress, most notably the restoration spell that returned the magic the Hunters stole from us.”
I nod, remembering the day my cousin Zoë called to say she and the rest of the west coast coven had regained their magic.
Cal continues. “There have also been agricultural improvements and advances in healing. The3 Sistersapp I’ve been developing is nearly complete, too. Once that’s done, witches will have a secure online space where we can communicate without worrying that we’ll be found out.”
Gemma raises her hand. “Will I get access to that app? Cause that sounds seriously cool.”
Morgan stifles a laugh when Cal shakes his head. “Sorry, Gem. No can do.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you about anything scandalous that ends up posted on there,” I promise.
Cal ignores me, continuing the speech he came here to deliver. “Anyway… The Elders think we could domoreif we carved out dedicated space for magical research. They’ve decided to open an international boarding school, one where the best and brightest from each Clan can apply for year-long residencies. Each class will have all the support and resources they need to explore new ways to combine our magic.”
“That all sounds great,” I say, unable to keep the hesitation out of my voice, “but what does that have to do with my dad?”
“We’d like your permission to name it after him. And Ryan.”
“Oh.” A surge of emotion swells in my chest. I squeeze Morgan’s hand, which is still wrapped tightly around mine, grounding myself in her presence.
“We’d like to call it theArcher Walsh International Academy of Witches.” Cal holds my gaze as a tear slips past my lashes. “And we’d like you and Morgan to join us as faculty.”
* * *
Fingers brush against my hip,and Morgan buries her face into my hair. Our bed dips as she shifts even closer. “I can hear you overthinking, love.” She presses a kiss against my bare shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”
