Page 39

“Yep. I’ll always be me.”

“That’s my girl.”

Alice hesitated. “It’s also kind of permanent.”

“Oh?”

“I used a spell to do it, and well . . .” Alice paused. “It’s not exactly a dye job.”

Beatrice laughed as she patted Alice’s shoulders. “You’ll get better. Come. I have the tea ready.”

She led Alice through her home. An eclectic mishmash of furniture and items with no central theme were scattered throughout her living room. In her cozy kitchen, green vines hung from baskets. An assortment of herbs grew in small pots in a window above the sink. There were a few glass vials and baking utensils haphazardly placed on the kitchen counter.

They pulled out their chairs and sat at the square table. A mint-colored teapot sat in the middle of the table with two matching cups.

Beatrice snapped her fingers. The teapot rose to fill each cup before floating back to its original position. “So, tell me all about your plans for school.”

Alice picked up the cup. She held it aloft with both hands, her elbows on the table. She took a sip; its refreshing liquid warmed her throat. “I’m going to focus on my apothecary skills. I want to be a witch who brews potions and makes people feel good.”

“Oh,” Beatrice said as she took a sip. She focused on Alice. “What does your mother think?”

“She doesn’t want me to. She said I should be something else, a kitchen witch or a green herbal witch like her. I’m sorry, but cottagecore isn’t exactly my aesthetic.” Alice pointed to her black, mesh sleeves. “I want to be an apothecary witch.”

Beatrice took another sip and set her cup on the table. She placed her hand on Alice’s elbow. “You are you and not anyone else. You get to define who you are—not your mom, not me, not anyone. If your passion is in apothecary, then go be an apothecary witch.”

Alice nodded and took a sip.

“I think I might know why your mom was so apprehensive about you wanting to focus on apothecary,” Beatrice said as she rose from the table. “I think it’s time you learned your family secrets.”

“Secrets?”

Beatrice exited the kitchen. Alice turned to follow her with her eyes. She disappeared back into the living room and onward down the hall to her bedroom. Alice took another sip from her cup and placed it onto the table.

A moment passed.

Beatrice returned carrying a large hat box. She placed it on the table. She removed the lid and pulled out a black witch’s hat with an oversized brim. A leather band with a brass buckle wrapped around the tall point. The tip was bent over with age.

“If you’re going to tell me I’m a witch, I’m already aware,” Alice said with a slight chuckle.

“Funny,” Beatrice replied. “But this is more than a witch’s hat. This is our family legacy. It’s why your mother doesn’t want you to be an apothecary witch. I was going to wait to show you, but now is as good of a time as any.”

“Does the hat have special powers?” Alice asked.

“It’s not the hat, but what’s inside,” Beatrice answered. She stuck her hand into the hat. “There is a secret pocket inside. The pocket contains one of the most valuable, sought after spells in the world.” She pulled out a weathered scroll and handed it to Alice.

“What does it do?” Alice asked as she unfurled it. She read the spell, memorizing the ingredients. “The Lovers’ Kiss?”

“No one knows,” Beatrice said. “It’s rumored to have the power to grant great strength, give you whatever your heart desires, or even bring someone back from the dead.”

Alice tore her eyes away from the spell. Every ingredient and method vanished from her mind. “I- I completely forgot what I read.”

“You must maintain eye contact, or you forget. It’s the reason there is only one.”

“Have you ever tried to make it?”

“Once, with your grandfather, God rest his soul,” Beatrice said. She bowed her head and placed her hands over her heart. She paused for a moment before lifting her head back up. “We tried, but nothing happened. They said it only works after an expression of love.”

“By love, do you mean . . .?” Alice’s words trailed off.