Page 3 of Extraordinary Quests for Amateur Witches

Thankfully, after a few more minutes of small talk, the waiter returned with their orders. With his bowl of miso pork ramen in front of him, Kieran was able to at least refocus on that instead of Ash’s forced smiles and overly sunny questioning.

Something was off. It had been off for a while, Kieran knew, but this was the most pronounced it had ever been.

Maybe he’s just nervous about what he wants to talk about, Kieran thought. It could be something positive.

As Kieran neared the end of his ramen, Ash broke the silence. “I forgot to ask—how’s everything in the apartment?”

Kieran deflated. If Ash kept stalling, Kieran would have to lie down and stare at a wall for a few hours.

“Great,” Kieran said, voice coming out a bit more cutting than he intended.

His fingers tightened around his chopsticks, and he averted his eyes.

“It’s great. I get to spend my days watching my sister and my best friend be madly in love with each other while you and I haven’t so much as talked in a month.

Nothing makes a house a home like burning jealousy, right? ”

Ash’s fake smile finally faltered. Kieran hadn’t realized how red his own face had become, and how his heart sped up as he ranted. He tried to even out his breathing and avert his eyes while Ash studied his expression. The other boy let out a sigh.

“Look,” Ash said, nervously fiddling with his napkin in his lap. “Kieran, this is…part of the reason I wanted to talk.”

Kieran’s stomach dropped. Shit, shit, shit.

“Sometimes it feels like all we talk about is Briar and Delilah,” Ash explained, his voice weak. Kieran’s eyebrows shot up as Ash added, “Because you can’t stop comparing our relationship to theirs. Hell, you can’t stop comparing yourself to them—to everyone, really.”

Kieran blinked. He didn’t know how to respond.

If he was being honest with himself, he did, perhaps, have a tendency to compare himself to others, but that wasn’t his fault.

The Pelumbras always held themselves to high standards.

A Pelumbra was supposed to be the smartest, most attractive, and most powerful witch in any given room.

To be anything less than that reflected weakness.

And because of his former curse, he’d spent far too much of his life being seen as weak.

“So…what?” he finally replied. “You want me to not talk about them so much?”

“No, Kieran, I—”

“Because—listen—I can work on it—but sometimes it’s hard when—”

Ash blurted, “I think we need to take a break, Kieran.”

The entire world screeched to a halt. For a beat, Kieran just stared at him. Ash refused to look at him, instead staring into his empty ramen bowl as if he might discover in it a portal out of the restaurant.

Kieran’s ears rang, and his entire body went numb. Throat dry, he croaked, “A break ?”

“That’s why I wanted to meet up,” Ash said after another pause, doing his best to look anywhere but into Kieran’s eyes.

“I think we both need to reevaluate this relationship. Just…take a step back and really think about what we want. Because if you’re stuck on being the same as Briar and Delilah, this is never going to work. I can’t be what you want.”

“Wait, hold on, I never said I wanted—”

“I’ll need a few weeks before we talk it over.” Ash set his napkin on the table and stood up. “Until then, let’s not make this harder than it needs to be. I should get going.”

“Ash, wait! Can’t we just—?”

“Goodbye, Kieran.”

The other boy shrugged on his coat, and all Kieran could do was watch him leave the restaurant and disappear into the snow.

Kieran remained at the table for so long, staring blankly into space, that eventually an employee came over to ask if he was okay.

After muttering something about being fine, he stood.

His knees felt like jelly, barely able to support him.

Numb, he pulled on his coat and wound his scarf around his face.

This has to be a nightmare, he thought as he headed to the door, pushing through to outside. A gale of snowy wind immediately hit him, and he winced. A really cold nightmare.

A thick layer of snow had covered the street in the last hour.

The sidewalks were empty, the only sound on the wind the distant ding of the trolley bell.

It was eerie to see downtown so empty, and a shiver—half from cold and half from trepidation—ran down Kieran’s spine.

He hunched, arms crossed to try to keep the heat in.

Snowflakes hit his exposed nose and stung the bare skin until it turned red.

Each step felt like a battle. It didn’t help that Kieran had gone out in a pair of leather loafers, which were now soaked through and almost certainly ruined.

However, none of that could pierce the words playing on repeat in Kieran’s mind: Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.

Kieran winced. Ash hadn’t even given him a chance to explain himself. How long had he been considering this? Weeks? Months? They hadn’t been speaking for a while, but still. Kieran had truly thought it was just because Ash was busy, not because he needed to reevaluate their relationship.

The back of Kieran’s throat tightened. Tears welled in his eyes.

I’m a fool, he thought, sniffling. He wiped his nose, and his sleeve came away damp. A stupid, self-centered fool. Maybe I don’t deserve Ash.

Maybe I don’t deserve anyone.

A sob caught in Kieran’s throat as he rounded the corner, just a few feet from home now.

He was almost glad everyone else in Gellingham had decided to spend the night inside so no one could see what a mess he was.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but imagine Briar’s and Delilah’s faces when he told them.

Delilah would give him a tight hug while Briar berated Ash for dragging out the inevitable.

And then, when night fell, he’d have to listen to them through the paper-thin walls of their apartment whispering about how sorry they felt for him.

Tears wet his cheeks, immediately going cold. I really am pathetic, aren’t I?

He was so wrapped up in his misery that he failed to notice the soft crunch of footsteps approaching him from behind.

Something heavy slammed into the back of his head.

A flash of pain shot through Kieran’s skull as starbursts exploded across his vision.

He let out a strangled scream and staggered, barely catching himself before he slipped and fell into the snow.

He spun around. Standing a step behind him was a massive, shadowy figure, his eyes the only part of his face exposed.

And in his hand was a glinting silver knife.

“Your wallet,” the figure demanded, flipping the knife around so it hung poised in the air, aimed at Kieran’s throat. “Now.”

At some point in his life, Kieran had heard the phrase fight or flight to describe one’s reactions in a moment like this.

He’d never had to give much thought to which he’d do, seeing as he’d spent nearly his entire life safely tucked away at his family’s estate.

Dangerous situations tended to be something he avoided.

First, because he had the same body type as most telephone poles, and second, because he was an awful witch.

So awful, in fact, he couldn’t even think of a single spell he could cast to defend himself. He found himself unable to fight and much too terrified to flee, which left him one option:

Freeze.

“Did you hear me? Turn out your pockets!” the figure bellowed, his face so close Kieran could smell the liquor on his breath.

“Okay, okay!” Kieran reached into his coat pockets and turned them inside out, revealing them to be empty.

Little did the attacker know that Kieran didn’t own a wallet.

Buying one was on his to-do list, along with learning how to use defensive magic and limiting his crying sessions to his bedroom.

“L-look, I make coffee for a living. You should really find someone else to steal from.”

“Bullshit—you’re dressed like all those fuckers knocking back whiskey highballs downtown,” the figure snarled. “If I have to ask again, this knife is going into your throat.”

Kieran’s eyes darted to the knife. He saw a slice of his own reflection staring back at him, pulse jumping in his throat.

His brown eyes were bloodshot from crying, tears and snot streaming down his face.

His mind scrambled for what to do. He had a few extra bills in his back pocket, but considering that his attacker thought he was rich, giving him the cash equivalent of a day-old pastry probably wasn’t going to satisfy him.

He could scream for help, but that would likely earn him a stab wound.

Briar had tried to teach him a little ledrith, but the first time he tried to throw a punch at a weighted bag, he bruised his knuckles so bad he hadn’t tried since.

Or, a quiet voice in his head whispered, you could just let him stab you. At least then you wouldn’t have to deal with all this anymore.

Then again, that’s a bit dramatic, the more logical half of his brain argued.

After everything that’s happened this year, I deserve to at least die in a way that’s a bit more dignified than bleeding out in the street.

Preferably, old age. Or at least doing something interesting, like walking a tightrope between skyscrapers or whatever.

Kieran reached into his back pocket, pulling out the few bills he had and held them out. “Th-they’re yours. I don’t have anything else—I swear.”

The attacker snatched the money from Kieran’s hand. He examined it with narrowed eyes, which darted back to Kieran’s after a second. “I don’t take kindly to insults, kid.”

The knife rose. Air caught in Kieran’s throat.

Well, he thought, screwing his eyes shut as he braced for pain, worth a try.

He waited. One breath, then two. Then three. After four, Kieran thought, If you’re going to stab me, at least have the decency to be quick about it.

There was the sound of a wet smack, then a choking gasp quickly followed by a heavy thunk.

“Kieran! Move!”

Kieran cracked a single eye, only to discover his attacker’s body sprawled on the ground in front of him.

The attacker’s eyes darted around wildly while the rest of his body slowly became more and more encased in a layer of ice, all stemming from a snowball thrown at his back.

Behind him stood Briar and Delilah, Briar with another snowball in her hand and Delilah’s eyes glowing bright green with magic.

Kieran didn’t need further prompting. He moved to run toward them, but after a second’s hesitation, he reached down and plucked his money from his attacker’s icy hand. Then he sprinted for Delilah and his sister.

“Go inside,” Briar instructed Delilah and Kieran. “Call the police. I’ll keep an eye on him until they get here in case that spell wears off.”

Delilah put a protective hand on Kieran’s arm and nodded to Briar. She ushered him toward the apartment, and Kieran followed, keeping his head down. His heartbeat rattled in his ears.

“We heard you scream and came as fast as we could,” Delilah said as they ducked into the front entryway for their apartment. “That asshole messed with the wrong witches.”

Kieran nodded numbly, mind whirring as Delilah locked the door behind them and they started for the stairs. He paused, glancing over his shoulder again just to make sure no one had slipped in after them. The staircase was empty. He was safe.

And once again, he had Briar and Delilah to thank for that. Just like all the other times he’d been too weak—and useless—and pitiful—to take care of himself.

Kieran swallowed the lump in his throat before running after Delilah toward their apartment.