Page 5 of A Kiss from the Fae (Mistress of Magic #2)

Faye’s new half-faerie identity sat on her like a heavy robe. It was at once intense and weighty, but it was also velvety, luxurious, exciting. Some days, Faye felt the weight of her new power as if it were a terrible burden.

But, some days, her new power made her feel as if she was so queenly and magnificent – glorious , that was how it felt – that she could do anything. Achieve anything. Command an ocean of pleasure for herself.

‘Sweetheart! Ach Faye, I’m so glad to see yer face!

’ Annie ran to her, picked her up and twirled her around before Faye had the opportunity to react.

Faye held on to Annie and hugged her tight.

Annie had always been her best friend, since the first day of school when she’d taken Faye’s hand unobtrusively and guided her away from Bel McDougall, who had pointed and yelled, She’s a witch, she’s a witch .

Faye remembered the hollowness in her stomach, the shock at being singled out for something about herself she’d never known was different.

Faye had thanked the stars for Annie, who never tired of hand-clapping games, gathering wildflowers for Faye’s home-made press and making up stories in the dark when she slept at Faye’s house.

Annie, who did voices and accents, making up songs and spells as she and Faye traced careful circles and stars in the wet sand at Black Sands Beach and wished for the things that small girls wish for – treasures, riches and friends that last forever.

‘You look well,’ Faye commented with a smile.

Annie was in costume for her character in the show.

Faye knew Annie was playing a witch, but she couldn’t help laughing at the very low-cut black velvet dress Annie was wearing.

It was so different to her usual fashion-forward, asymmetric block-printed dresses, vintage jewellery and statement designer pieces.

‘Though I see the costume department seems to be stuck in medieval times.’ Faye was keeping things jolly, but she’d missed Annie so much – Annie was the only one that understood her.

Annie bear-hugged Faye as Faye fought back tears.

It was the first time she’d seen Annie since Faye had left for London, although they’d spoken on the phone and written in that time.

It was a relief that she didn’t have to tell Annie the whole strange story now in the middle of a TV set.

Sometimes, truth is stranger than fiction , she thought, her eyes resting on the Coven of Love set.

‘Well, you look good, anyway. London’s suiting you, innit .’ Faye extricated herself from Annie’s fierce embrace and repeated the London slang on purpose to cover her awkwardness. ‘Are you still staying with your ex? What’s her name again?’

A peachy flush spread to Annie’s cheeks. ‘Susie. Aye.’ Annie evaded Faye’s gaze.

‘What’s up with you?’ Faye asked, bemused. ‘Why are you blushing…?’ She frowned. Annie was never shy about anything. Then it dawned on her.

‘You’re back together, aren’t you? Susie, I remember her now. Susie! Your one great love. The one that got away. That Susie.’

‘Aye, that Susie,’ Annie said with a grin.

‘She offered her spare room, and I needed somewhere to stay without much warnin’.

I wasnae intendin’ for us to get back together, but I guess the spell worked, after all.

’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Soon as I arrived, we more or less fell into bed, and it’s been like that ever since. ’

‘You think it was the spell?’ Faye had cast a spell in the shop with Annie and Aisha. It had brought her two lovers: Finn Beatha and Rav Malik.

‘Aye. Think aboot it. I asked for a girl just like Susie. Fact is, I probably had her in mind when I asked for someone.’ Annie sighed happily. ‘Not exactly surprisin’ that she’s ma model for all other women.’

‘I guess not.’ Faye grinned. ‘I haven’t seen Susie for years.’

The woman with the bright red hair and dungarees who had ended the scene when Faye walked in tapped Annie on the shoulder.

‘Sorry to interrupt, but we’re starting again in five,’ she said before smiling at Faye. ‘Hi, are you a friend of Annie’s?’

‘Keely, this is the friend I was telling ye aboot. With the shop in Abercolme,’ Annie interjected. ‘Faye Morgan, this is Keely Milligan, the director of the show.’

‘Nice to meet you.’ Faye shook Keely’s hand.

‘Ah! The witch!’ Keely smiled. ‘What d’you think of our set?’

Faye tried to think of something complimentary to say. ‘It’s very…atmospheric,’ she managed.

‘She’s bein’ tactful.’ Annie laughed.

‘Annie’s told me all about you. She said you’d have some good ideas about how we could improve the show.

Representation of modern witches, regalia, equipment, that kind of thing.

I’m not convinced we’re really getting it right yet.

’ Keely had a penetrating gaze, and she gave Faye a long, appraising look.

‘Look at you, for instance. You look quite normal.’

‘Thanks.’ Faye was a little affronted, but Keely blundered on.

‘No, you know, I mean…how would I know you were a witch by looking at you? But then there are a few little touches, here and there.’ She pointed to Faye’s index finger where she wore Rav’s golden pentagram ring.

‘That ring. Understated but noticeable. And your hair, that’s very Celtic and beautiful. ’

Faye felt like a prize cow being assessed by a cattle auctioneer.

‘The point is, how do witches dress nowadays? What do they look like? I don’t know.’ Keely rattled on. ‘We’ve had some bad press about the first series. I’m trying to give it a bit of a revamp, but I need some subject specialists. Annie suggested you.’

‘Well, I doubt many witches are going about their days in a velvet evening gown, for a start,’ Faye replied bluntly.

‘You can’t assume witches look a particular way.

It’s like saying all vegetarians look the same.

And many witches don’t advertise what they do.

In the past, it was dangerous to be one. ’

Especially for some . Faye thought of her ancestor Grainne Morgan who had been tried as a witch by the Scottish inquisitors.

Unlike many killed as witches, Grainne actually was a wise and magical woman; most were average villagers that had inspired jealousy or lust. Any perceived wrongdoing on the part of another villager – or even a cow with the pox – could merit an accusation of witchcraft.

The Morgan women had always been the healers and helpers in their community.

They had summoned the wind for sailors; healed cuts, eased morning sickness, mopped feverish brows, repaired marriages and protected children with hag stone charms hung on plaited string.

And they had passed down the knowledge of the old ways to each other.

‘I suppose.’ Keely nodded. ‘The thing is, it all has to look dramatic. It has to be romantic, sexy, magical. That’s what people want.

That’s what they’re tuning in for. I’d just like it to have some kind of…

I don’t know. A modern relevance, I suppose.

Would you be able to help with that? Answer a few questions if I take you over to our wardrobe mistress? ’

‘Sure.’ Faye smiled. ‘I can help.’