Chapter 28

Witchiest Witch

With the stink of shame on me, I stalk through the beaded curtain. I let my aunt ring out the girls, so I can avoid the ugly parts of myself they remind me of.

Once the bell on the front door signals them leaving, Candy joins me. “Tea, my love?”

“Yes.” It comes out as not much more than a whisper, so I clear my throat.

My aunt pretends not to notice my state of agitation and fills up the electric kettle, babbling on about those girls. “They are certainly up to no good with the sage and candles and chalk.”

I find my voice as we sit across the little table from one another. “Do you think they were going to do a spell?”

“Well, I don’t think they were planning on playing hopscotch.” She notices the confused look on my face. “It’s a game where you draw boxes with chalk and toss a pebble and hop on one foot.”

I shake my head because I’ve never heard of the ridiculous-sounding game.

“It was old in my time,” Candy says, “so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you have no idea what I’m talking about.” She pours the tea, the steam billowing out with a strong raspberry scent.

“Do you ever worry about what people do with the stuff they buy?” I think of my mom and Candy summoning the girl from my mom’s dreams and shudder at what other people might be doing—people who aren’t skilled like my mom and Candy.

“I do,” she says more solemnly than I expect. “Not those girls. I doubt they could kill a housefly with magic, never mind do any real witchcraft. Most of my regular customers I know well enough that I don’t worry about them either.”

She sets mismatched teacups in front of us, along with a plate of scones. “But every once in a while, someone comes in here, and I can feel they’re up to no good. Those are the people that worry me.”

“Would you ever refuse to sell to someone?” I take a sip of tea, and a burst of fruity flavor fills my mouth.

“Only once.” Her gaze takes on a faraway look for a moment. Then she recovers and breaks off a piece of almond scone. “I don’t sell any one item that is particularly dangerous. But it’s amazing what a powerful witch can do with seemingly harmless ingredients.

“There will be those who abuse the ingredients for wicked purposes and those whose ignorance in using them might do harm. But do we hold the grocery store owner responsible for a chef who mishandles the food and gives their customers food poisoning? Would we bring charges against the pharmacist if one of their customers poisoned someone with medicine?”

“No, we wouldn’t.” When she puts it that way, it makes sense she wouldn’t feel guilty.

“It’s the same for me. I hope for the best in people’s intentions, but I can’t control what they do.”

I take another sip of tea and swallow down the other questions that have arisen in me. I want to ask more about that one time she refused to sell to someone, but it’s not my business. Besides, it won’t help ease my guilt. Selling goods that could be used in witchcraft is very different than standing by your best friend when she’s being awful.

The bell on the shop door rings and Felicity’s singsong voice calls out, “It’s only me!”

She slides through the curtain with a flourish and sweeps off her cape-like jacket in a motion similar to a dance move. She gives my aunt a quick peck on the lips, leaving behind a smudge of magenta lipstick. Her make-up is all magentas and blacks today. It reminds me that Halloween is a week away and I have no costume.

“I need your help,” I blurt out. That gets their attention. “With my Halloween costume,” I quickly add to clarify.

“Oooh.” Felicity taps the tips of her fingers together in an excited way. “What are you going to be?”

“A witch.” Candy and Felicity exchange a raised-eyebrows glance. “It was my friends’ idea. One of them, Cameron, wants to be a make-up artist, so he’s going to do our make-up.”

“And who is the lucky witch?” Felicity asks.

“The Morrigan.”

Candy’s eyebrows raise higher than I’ve ever seen them. “The raven witch, that’s an obscure choice.”

It’s the crow witch, but I don’t bother correcting her. “All the pictures show her in bird form, but I don’t want to dress as a bird.”

“Of course not!” Felicity looks scandalized. “I’m thinking a black cape with feather accents. Nothing tacky. Leggings, not a skirt, to mirror the bird silhouette. Do you have strong feelings about the pointy hat?”

“Not necessarily, but I do want people to know I’m a witch.”

The bell at the front door jingles, and Candy slips out with a wink as she says, “No rest for the wicked.”

The costume stuff is more Felicity’s thing anyway, so we continue planning. “Maybe a subtle witch hat.” I have no idea what that is, but it sounds good. “No broom. The Morrigan wouldn’t need one, she would transform to fly.” Her hand does a twisty flourish as if she’s the one about to transform.

She pauses and stares at me with a finger on her lips. She rustles through some drawers and mutters, “Where does she keep the measuring tape?”

Once she locates it, Felicity has me stand and she takes a bunch of measurements. After she’s done, we make fresh tea and sit together while Candy helps customers.

“I can see it now.” Felicity holds her hands up in a rectangle frame with me in the center. “You’ll be glorious.”

“It’s not too much for you to do in a week, is it?” Fashion may be a passion of hers, but I haven’t given her much time.

Felicity pats my hand from across the table. “Of course not! It’s my honor to dress you for the most auspicious of nights.”

I hug her, and then check the time on my phone. “I have to go.”

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll drop off the costume on Saturday afternoon.”

I give her another squeeze. “Thanks, love you.”

“Love you, too, my dear.”

Candy is busy with customers when I breeze through the store, so I blow her a kiss as I leave, feeling better about Halloween night…at least for now.