Page 25 of Uncharmed

‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ Maeve said through a mouthful of biscuit, a few crumbs flying out onto her chest as she spoke. Annie choked on her tea. She decided that it was probably best to put down the scalding-hot liquid before entering into this conversation.

‘What made you ask that?’

Maeve shrugged, which wasn’t easy with her shoulders already squashed into her ears against the back of the couch. ‘I just figured you probably do. You look like you’d date guys with jawlines that could decapitate a woman.’

‘Well, no. I don’t have a boyfriend,’ Annie said, awkwardly stiff. Talking about close relationships often made her feel on edge, like hovering over the risk of getting a paper cut. Was it supposed to feel like that?

‘Why not? You’re nice and pretty.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ Annie smiled self-consciously. ‘But I’m just very busy. I don’t have a lot of time for anything like that.’

‘Time for what? Love? You should probably prioritize that honestly, I hear it’s good for you.’ Fortunately, Maeve dove into another question before Annie could quite work out the answer to that one. ‘Do you have a lot of friends?’

Annie pondered the odd, direct question. ‘Not as many as you might think.’

‘You said you’re busy all the time, though.’

‘That’s for sure. I certainly know a lot of people. But true friends are a rare prize.’

‘Ahh. So you mostly hang around with terrible people, then,’ Maeve nodded, eyeing up her guardian. ‘I could have guessed that.’

Annie scoffed at the brusque assessment. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘Well, you’re a people-pleaser. Otherwise, you would have turned down this – no offence – absolutely crap situation to babysit me for the foreseeable future in the middle of nowhere.

Just saying. So by my early calculations, you’re probably always saying yes to things you don’t really want to do.

And therefore probably stuck with the wrong people, too,’ Maeve said matter-of-factly.

‘And that’s fine. I don’t really have any either.

Friends, I mean,’ she added. There wasn’t an ounce of self pity in her tone; she said it all as though reading a non-fiction book aloud.

Annie was a little taken aback by the frank and unexpected character assassination. She tucked her hair behind her ear, a reflex to regather herself. ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

‘I don’t lie,’ Maeve shot back.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest that—’

‘It’s not a big deal. Luckily, I like my own company.

I have to say though, magic isn’t very helpful when trying to just be a normal person who people might actually want to hang out with,’ Maeve continued.

As though suddenly aware of her thoughts being heard aloud, she shrank even further back against the sofa cushions.

‘From what I can tell, magic and friends don’t mix particularly well. ’

‘Well, hopefully we’re about to change that,’ Annie said gently.

Ironically, two of the easiest relationships of her life were Faye and Pari, the two non-wicche people who she could drop an inch of her guard down around.

It was the friendships that magic openly accompanied that were anything but easy.

The thought trickled down her back in an uncomfortably cold trail.

‘Not that I actually want to be friends with any of them at school,’ Maeve carried on, oblivious to Annie’s internal monologue. ‘They have the combined verbal skills of an onion. I’m waiting until university to start again and meet cool people. Or I could move to the wicche realm?’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Annie said with a soft smile.

She tried to remember whether her younger self had ever operated with such a lack of self-doubt or anxiety for the future, but it seemed impossible.

‘And am I allowed to ask you some of these deeply personal questions now?’ she asked.

‘How much experience do you have in the complicated world of love, to offer up such sage wisdom?’

‘Less than zero. I just read a lot of books. Can I do some more painting?’ Maeve went to rise from the couch, but Annie swiftly batted her back down with a frilly scatter cushion to the shoulder.

‘Hang on a second, you’re not getting away with it that easily. It’s only fair. You tell me your secrets now.’

‘There’s nothing to tell.’ Maeve finished her biscuit, then dusted her hands together before reaching to stroke Karma.

The cat had settled on the top of the sofa behind her head like her own personal cartoon cloud.

‘Did you somehow miss that everyone at school thinks I was born into the circus with three heads?’

Annie stuck her tongue out at Maeve. ‘I’m sure they’re not all as bad as you think they are. You’re not exactly inviting anyone to share your sandwiches, are you? Maybe you just need to try a bit harder? Make more of an effort with them.’

Maeve froze and gave an uncomfortable shiver. She wriggled herself upright and further away, pressing herself up against the sofa arm as the relaxed ease in her eyes vanished again. ‘You don’t know what it’s like.’

Immediately, Annie knew that she had said the wrong thing; she had killed the delicately repaired connection between them. She squeezed her eyes shut, furious with herself.

‘Maeve, you’re right. That was insensitive, I—’

‘You actually don’t know a single thing about me,’ Maeve said quietly. ‘No one ever does, so stop pretending that you do.’

‘I’m sorry, I only thought that—’

‘What? That I’m the freak everyone thinks I am and that I’m asking for everyone to hate me? That you can swoop in and mould me into someone else who fits in better, who won’t be a pain in everyone’s life and, most importantly, will let you look like you saved the misunderstood, troubled witch?’

‘Maeve, that’s not what I—’ Annie’s mind raced at a million miles an hour, trying to piece the smashed moment back together as quickly as she could.

But none of the pieces fitted together; she could barely keep up.

Maeve’s mood swings were so erratic, it was like something came over her in the blink of an eye.

‘I really thought you seemed nice,’ Maeve snarled, jumping to her feet. Her face was screwed up tightly, her dark brows in a low, furious scowl. ‘But you’re just like everyone else, aren’t you?’

Karma peeped one eye open to see what the racket was about.

‘Maeve, I—’

‘This is all just to make you feel better about yourself. You might think I’m a complete joke, but guess what? I think you are.’

Maeve’s fingers sparked like tinder. Hearing the crackle of uncertain magic, Karma’s ears scooted back and she meowed dubiously. Her claws flexed into the soft fabric of the cushion, aware that trouble was brewing.

The overhead light flickered. Annie’s eyes darted to the ceiling. ‘Woah, woah. Let’s just take a breather, we can have another biscuit.’

‘I don’t want a bloody biscuit. Don’t tell me what to do. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me!’

Both witches spun around to the kitchen, but quicker than their eyes could carry, the contents of the cauldron that Annie had left simmering for dinner burst into a blindingly bright blue flame.

A sudden jet of fire flared across the length of the stove.

It lit up the whole downstairs with a jet-propelled whoosh and hot embers flew in a streak to the hems of the gingham curtains. They burst into flames.

Karma jumped up with a yowl, the tip of her tail almost reaching the ceiling at the shock. Paws skittering across the floor, she bolted from the back of the sofa straight out of the open front door. Frantic claws scratched across the wooden porch and landed with a thud into the meadow.

‘Karma!’ Annie scrambled around the sofa, tea spilling everywhere. She quickly shot a spell to extinguish the flames as she moved, but it was barely a second thought.

She was chasing after her familiar before she could even allow two logical thoughts to chain themselves together.

Hidden entirely by the long grass, Karma had already vanished.

But Annie’s feet kept moving. Somewhere, she registered a thudding beat onto the wet, muddy ground.

Her own bare feet. She willed herself to run faster, chasing a distant rustle in the grass ahead.

Her vision blurred. The meadow was a smear of tickling grass and clouds, the skyline of the woodland a smashed amber glass, streaks of orange and red and brown somewhere in her periphery.

Nothing felt real. She could only feel fear and confusion and dread – maybe her own or maybe Karma’s.

Maybe there wasn’t any difference. She had to find her.