Page 13 of Uncharmed
‘Yes, we first became aware of her when her powers emerged only months ago. But accurate monitoring for an unknown is nigh on impossible, until their magic starts to come to fruition more clearly. No known magical lineage means no pattern to be mindful of, no expectation to work from. Bronwyn and I did visit on her fifteenth orbital completion for the usual endarkenment debut, but we hoped that she would take to the powers better than she evidently has. She was a creature of few words and we are now seeing what appears to be a complete lack of magical control.’
At this, Morena tutted unsympathetically, as though a fifteen-year-old girl should know how to behave when she found the infinite potential of real-life magic at her fingertips.
Annie, on the other hand, felt the flutter of affinity in her heart, imagining the loneliness, the isolation, the fear of stumbling through early magic.
It was difficult enough to experience with a support circle in place.
‘I can’t imagine it’s safe to leave her to fend for herself. It could cause chaos,’ Annie considered, tapping lightly on her chin. Morena smoothed an invisible crease on her cream shirt sleeve.
‘That’s rather why I’ve summoned you here, Andromeda. I have something of a proposition for you. Or, should I say, the coven at large has a proposition for you.’
Right on cue, the flame of the spell took charge. Annie’s heart tweaked a little, the feeling of a problem to be solved itching in her bones, needing to be scratched. The aching, addictive sense that she was needed. She kept a straight, calm face.
‘Whatever I can do to help serve the coven, of course. Although I’m not sure I’m...’
‘I’ll be frank, Ms Wildwood.’ Morena rose from her desk and strode towards the roaring fireplace with her hands latched behind her back, pointed boots clicking on the pale stone.
‘It’s no secret that we’re excited by your future at Selcouth.
It’s evident to any witch, warlock or wicche with two brain cells to rub together – although that is not as many here as you may think – that you exude a natural affinity.
There’s intuition and an ambition that I personally like to see in a young witch rising through the ranks. ’
Annie beamed.
‘You are, however, also rather soft at times,’ Morena continued. Annie’s smile vanished, her shoulders slumping in the face of even a mild criticism. ‘But I imagine that your... amiable nature could be beneficial to a youngster in need of guidance.’
‘Like you say, I’m far too soft,’ Annie conceded. ‘I wouldn’t have a clue where to even begin.’
‘It’s hardly rocket science, Andromeda. What do they enjoy these days? I’m fairly sure it begins and ends at rock music and Satanism. Some ghastly application of eyeliner thrown in for good measure,’ Morena said, shrugging.
‘I don’t think I could prove much use to her,’ Annie said, doubting herself like a reflex.
Morena gave her a huff in return and a silence fell long enough for Annie to feel obliged to fill it.
‘But...maybe she could come into the bakery with me? She could even have a flair for sugar sorcery,’ Annie said, feeling a bubble of excitement form as her imagination kicked in.
Her mind was now wandering off to tempting possibilities of a mini-me to take under her wing, to carve into the most immaculate, promising witch that Selcouth had seen since, well.
..since herself. Fluffy pens that moved in unison, matching magical flourishes in their hands and wrists.
Identical quirks in their potion brewing, simultaneously bursting bubblegum as they turned over tarot cards.
The prospect of coordinated cloaks, guaranteed to delight the coven each time she presented her own protégée. ..
‘Selcouth has a rich history of mentoring through the magic system,’ Morena said. ‘The grimoire encourages shared knowledge and experience. But, due to the nature of the student, her youth and her naivety to our world, the job will doubtless pose its own unique, demanding challenges.’
Annie faltered. She hoped it was imperceptible, even to Morena’s astute gaze.
Realistically, it couldn’t be done, could it?
The bakery, the Sorciety and her friends, her coven work.
..It would be frankly impossible to juggle it all alongside tutoring a troubled teenage witch.
She was already exhausted, struggling to keep up with everything.
There was simply no way. She would run herself into the ground.
The right answer spilled from her lips as the spell kicked in. ‘Whatever you need,’ she replied, a placid, tolerant smile stretched across her face. She felt it tug at her cheeks, aching. ‘I can make myself available.’
‘Marvellous,’ Morena said, with a satisfied nod. She picked up a gilded hand mirror from a side table and neatened the edge of her lipstick with the point of her nail.
Annie swallowed hard, unable to quell her curiosity for any longer. ‘So, who is she?’
With an open palm that brought a cascade of sparks descending over its pages, Morena flipped the cover of the tattered, official coven grimoire on top of her desk to reveal the member register that was scrawled within the back pages.
Annie raised her eyebrows in silent request to approach the ancient text.
The Sage Witch gestured approval. Peering over the desk, Annie scanned the most recent entry.
‘Maeve Cadmus. Cute,’ Annie shrugged. Other than her name, the rest of Maeve’s credentials on the page remained empty; heritage, gesture, specialism, all a series of blanks for Annie to fill on the coven’s behalf. ‘I can’t wait to meet her.’
‘Splendid,’ Morena said. ‘I’ll ask Sybil down in the library to send up the forms. You shall begin promptly and rather aptly on the first of October.’ She crossed the room in an elegant sweep and reached for the black telephone receiver that was balanced on the wings of a huge taxidermy crow.
‘Oh, and, Annie...’
With a last caress of the victory curl that lay beneath the brim of her hat, Morena looked back over her shoulder to Annie.
‘While I do not doubt your ability to ensure this runs smoothly, I must make it clear that we cannot afford for trouble to make itself known. You must inform me immediately of anything from Miss Cadmus that could be considered particularly...unusual. Unwanted attention, strangeness, anomalies...These are never welcome things at Selcouth.’