The girls felt a jolt when they arrived, the sudden feeling of solid ground beneath them again, and opened their eyes to find that they were indoors. To their right was a shelf stocked with pedestrian spices—salt, pepper, Lawry’s—but when they turned to the left, they found a shelf lined with small glass jars filled with substances they didn’t recognize. Gabbie let out a squeak then covered her mouth. She pointed to the item that had inspired the noise, a jar labeled “Cradlebark.”
“Did we do it?” Maya whispered.
“I think so?” Delali peered past one of the shelves and into the aisle, her thoughts racing: there was too much to take in. It seemed the Centre Sphere Grocery was more like a department store: past the rows of potion ingredients, the room opened into a huge commercial space. Delali could see a section for foodstuffs, and past that, what looked like a clothing section, then a hardware section full of unfamiliar tools. She stepped out into the aisle, and the girls followed her. In front of them, two preteen girls appeared out of thin air, giggling and holding hands. Delali, Gabbie, and Maya all gasped, then burst out laughing as the girls scurried away.
“I think those might be our fellow witches,” Gabbie said, her mood lifting. She walked further into the store, gazing at all the oddities that surrounded her.
“Holy shit,” Maya said, following Gabbie. “We passed.”
“Yeah,” Delali confirmed. “Holy shit.”
“Oh,” Gabbie said, pointing upward.
Maya and Delali followed her finger to look at the ceiling, which was made entirely of a red, yellow, and orange glass-like material, resembling a kaleidoscope. Sunlight filtered brilliantly through the pattern, and when the girls looked down, they saw that the floor danced with the colors. And the whole place buzzed with a barely perceptible melody that the girls sensed was making them calmer, happier. Was that what witch music sounded like? Around them, women milled about, shopping, chatting, and eating, indistinguishable from typic women to the untrained eye, but to the girls, sporting a radiance that immediately exposed them as witches.
“This isn’t the Cradle, is it?” Maya said as they walked further into the shop.
“Who cares?” Gabbie asked.
Delali looked at her map to confirm what they’d already assumed. “It’s the grocery store.” Maybe they’d accidentally muddled their intention. She couldn’t stop staring at the other witches, enchanted by the swift and delicate way they moved, as if walking on air. She’d never seen so many elegant women in one place. Each one carried herself with the authority and grace she had once attributed to Alba alone. Now she knew she could attribute it to all witches. “This is—”
“The most perfect place you’ve ever seen?” Gabbie finished. She took a warped glass bottle off a shelf. Inside was a silver powder, which popped and fizzled as Gabbie turned the jar in her hand, letting out little beams of light. “Look at this.”
“Is that edible?” Maya asked.
“It must be,” Delali answered. She pointed up at something that had just caught her attention—the word Grocery in ornate gold script, floating above them as if it had been painted onto the air.
Gabbie read the jar’s label aloud. “Ameliorator.”
“Well, that can’t be bad,” Delali said. “Open it.”
“You want us to shoplift in the Witch Sphere?” Gabbie asked, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching. The closest cluster of witches was an aisle away, at the edge of the baby clothing department. “Do you want to get us smited or something?”
“There’s no such thing as shoplifting in the Sphere,” Delali said.
Delali took the jar from Gabbie’s hand and twisted it open. Delali stuck her pinky in the mixture and touched it to her tongue. “Mmmm,” she sighed, almost involuntarily. “Holy shit, you guys. Try it.” Gabbie and Maya dipped their fingers in and had the same uncontrollable reaction as Delali.
Maya took the jar from Delali’s hand, closed it, and placed it in her Prada mini backpack. She shrugged at Gabbie. “Smite me.”
“Awwwww,” Gabbie crooned, directing the girls’ attention to yet another marvel. The group of witches nearby glanced at them, confused by the enthusiasm. “Look at this!” She picked up a baby’s outfit from one of the racks, an oddly shaped eggplant-colored garment that seemed to have both a bodysuit and a cape.
Delali picked up a tag and read. “For safe and comfortable transportation with your newborn child. For ages zero to three months.” She couldn’t help but grin like an idiot as she said it—they really were in a whole new universe.
“Y’all,” Maya said, still sucking down the taste of the Ameliorator. “This is so cool.”
“I know,” Gabbie and Delali answered in unison. The girls sifted through the offerings of the baby section—it didn’t matter that none of them were pregnant or planning to be any time soon. Every inch of the Witch Sphere fascinated them; every tangible piece of evidence that their powers weren’t a fluke was something to savor. It took all of five minutes for New York to become a distant memory. The girls were quiet as they read and examined, though every now and then one of them would make an excited noise and turn to share a particularly weird finding with the others. All around them, witches spoke in velvety voices, mentions of the Gathering popping up over and over. Some wore normal clothes—which made Delali feel better about her Vans and jeans—but others wore robes of varying lengths over stiff dresses that looked to be made of felt or sturdy fleece. Gabbie was thrilled to see a witch rocking her baby back and forth in one of the weird capes the girls had just been examining, hers in a bright yellow color.
The girls found the deep cupboard that housed the hail early on, but walked around the store for at least an hour longer, touching everything they could. When they did finally decide to leave, they walked in circles, looking for the cashier out of habit, before realizing there wasn’t one, and Delali confirmed that she’d never encountered a mention of currency in any of their readings. They stayed in the shop for hours, and could have stayed for hours more if Maya hadn’t reminded them that Derra’s closed at six.
They all struggled to leave the shop, but finally were able to find themselves outside, in the middle of a city lined with cobblestones.
“Oh, it’s so adorable,” Gabbie said, watching a man and woman flirting on a bench. They were both reading, but every few moments they looked up to playfully zap each other with their fingertips.
“This is insane,” Delali said.
“Let’s just walk to the Cradle,” Maya suggested.
“Are you sure?” Delali said. “If we walk we might not make it to Derra’s before closing.”
Maya shrugged, unable to keep herself from smiling. “If we transport we might mess up again,” she said as she stepped into the street. “And I want to see what the rest of the Sphere looks like. Now that we’ve passed, we can do Derra’s any time.”
* * *
It took the girls forty minutes of wrong turns and detours, but they walked from the grocery store to 33,26. The Sphere was just like the store, normal but not. As they walked through the Centre, they passed towering shops, hordes of slow-moving witches, puffs of scented, colored smoke rising from the stalls of food vendors. Each time the girls felt lulled into a sense of normalcy, something surprised them—a witch appearing out of thin air, or roads so winding they seemed coiled, or when they walked through a new area of the Sphere, and saw its name announced by a colored banner in the sky. And all along there was always that calming, lulling background noise.
Finally, they reached the plot of grass where 33,26 stood. It was exactly as they remembered it from the night they cast the spell, only now the streets around the house were filled with witches.
“Are you sure we can just go in?” Gabbie asked. “I know it’s technically open to the public but like, the Regent lives here.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Delali said. “I think it’s a Buckingham Palace kind of vibe. The map lists opening hours and everything.”
As they rounded the side of the house, the grounds came alive. There were witches in the backyard enjoying the spring weather, families picnicking and posing for photos by the Cradle. There was one old witch simply holding her hand against the tree’s trunk in quiet meditation. Kids were running around, their parents cautioning them when they got too close to the edges of the property. A pair of teenaged witches and two boys exited a side door to 33,26, their arms laden with books.
“See?” Delali said.
She caught the door, the front of which read, in gilded letters, “Archive of the Sphere.” The girls passed through the door and found themselves in a dark, narrow corridor. They walked through the space hesitantly, reaching a set of downward sloping steps that led to another corridor. There were more steps and more corridors, over and over until they stepped into a cavernous, sunken room. It was organized in a circle, the wall lined with books, and freestanding shelves jutting into the room’s center like spokes on a wheel. In the middle, there were long tables, dotted with purple and green reading lamps, where handfuls of witches and MAMs read over books, pamphlets, and papers. There were no windows, and the only light came from a grid of chandeliers that hung from the impossibly high ceiling, soaking the room in a hazy amber. Near the entrance was a desk where a bored-looking witch in black lipstick sat looking at something on her laptop. A banner that read help bobbed above her head. It wasn’t silent like a typic library—instead there was that humming noise, that almost-music that was everywhere.
“Woah,” Delali said.
Maya grabbed her hand before she ran off. “Okay, can we set a time limit please? Derra’s closes in two hours.”
“Sure,” Delali said distractedly, then turned to walk toward the help desk.
Maya sighed. “Why am I the only one who cares about looking cute for the Gathering?”
Gabbie hooked her arm through Maya’s. “I care. Maybe we can find a fashion archive or something?”
Across the room, Delali planted her hands on the help desk. “Hi.”
The witch tapped her laptop as if turning something off to hear, but Delali couldn’t tell what. She looked up, the beads in her hair clanking noisily as she did. “What’s up,” she said. Then her face changed. “Hey, are you that girl from Georgia on My Mind? I didn’t know you were a witch.”
“Yeah, well, me neither,” Delali said, a little excited to realize she was famous in the Witch Sphere, too.
The witch narrowed her eyes in confusion. “What are you looking for?”
“This might not exist, but I’m looking for a spell or a recipe for a potion that can change a witch’s voice? Or help them to mimic another person’s manner of speaking.”
“Mm,” the witch said. “You’re looking for a spell, definitely.” She wrote “vocal mimicry” on a sheet of Spherical paper next to her laptop, and a series of numbers and letters sprang up. “Spells shelf—that’s shelf 3—row C. It should be near the bottom.” She handed Delali the sheet.
“Thanks.”
Delali walked over to the spells shelf and knelt to look for the spell, delighting in all the oddly specific titles she encountered:
Vaccination Spell
Valor Spell
Vanity Lesson
Venture Blessing
Velvet Touch
Veterinary Aid
Vice Lesson
Vitality Spell
Vixen Spell
Vocal Mimicry
She pulled out the tiny volume, then read on. They definitely weren’t making it to Derra’s today.
Vocal Repair
Voracity Spell
Waxwork Spell
Warming Spell
Wayward Witch Enchantment
Weariness Aid
Wedding Blessing
Windfall Spell
Wisdom Spell
Xenogamy Spell
Xerosis Repair
Her eye landed on a spell book that had only an X on the spine. She pulled this down, too, curious what it could mean, then took down the Venture Blessing for Gabbie and the Vanity Lesson to see if it could give her a way to fuck with Maya.
With her four books, Delali ducked around a group of studying witches with her haul and sat at the only empty table left in the Archive. Across the deep-set room, she could see Gabbie and Maya leaning over a book that took up half their entire table. Maya held her hand against a page, and after a moment, a long, stiff pink gown materialized on the table, which sent both her and Gabbie into a series of exclamations.
vocal mimicry
(developed by brescia condrey & mimi holder)
I’ve heard a sound that I admire
A voice of which I’ll never tire
It moved my heart; it made me feel
I wish to borrow, not to steal
Purpose: This spell may be used to mimic all elements of the subject’s voice.
Intent: The witch must prove a strong desire to mimic the voice of her subject. A desire to mimic other aspects of the subject’s likeness may render this spell ineffective. If the witch wishes to mimic other aspects of the subject’s likeness, she may need to consider another, more relevant spell.
Pace: The witch must begin recitation at a snail’s pace. On second repetition, the witch must recite at a slow pace. On third repetition, the witch must recite at a medium pace.
Repetitions: The spell must be repeated twelve times.
Positioning: The witch must be seated, on a chair of any type with her feet flat on the ground. The witch’s hands must be on her knees, with palms turned upward. The witch must hold her head straight, eyes gazing ahead.
Delali copied down the spell and directions to take home with her. She’d have to assume that a picture of Lorraine Hansberry on her laptop could pass for ‘reasonable proximity,’ considering the circumstances. She looked over the pamphlets she had left and picked up the one with the mysterious X on the spine. She opened it to find a page that showed only a spell—no directions or explanations of any kind. It read:
executioner’s spell
There are times when one must take
Leaving absence in her wake
Handed to the one we trust
Use this only if you must
And once you choose this course is best
Say it loudly from your breast
Delali looked at the page for a long time before rising and going to the shelf of spells. She checked through the B’s:
Backstop Spell
Baiting Spell
Balance Spell
Barbar Spell
Battle Blessing
Beauty Spell
Beard Growth Spell
Besotting Spell
Bewarning Spell
Bravery Spell
Breeze Spell
Bruise Repair Spell
Burn Repair Spell
Burp Induction Spell
Busybody Repellant
She read the list three times—twice fast and once slowly and carefully, willing her nerves to calm. Delali approached the help desk again and was met by a smile from the girl at the front.
“Hi, sorry,” Delali said. “Do you know if anyone has checked out the binding spell?”
“Checked out?”
“Yeah, like taken it. From the library.”
“You can’t take things from the Archive,” the girl said screwing up her face like Delali was the dumbest person she’d ever met. “Then other people wouldn’t be able to use them . . . You can only take copies. Everything that’s ever existed in the Archive is here right now.” She scribbled “binding spell” on the pad to double check. A sketch of a frowning witch appeared. “That doesn’t exist,” the girl said, then focused her attention back on the screen in front of her.
When Delali approached Gabbie and Maya, they were taking pictures of a snakeskin skirt that actually molted after a period of wear. Maya took in Delali’s alarmed face. “I know it’s kind of gross, but the grossness is what makes it cool, right?”
Delali placed the pamphlet on the table. “I just found this. In the spells section.” Her voice was shaking.
Maya and Gabbie huddled around the page and read. “Executioner’s spell . . .” Maya said. “But this is the spell we did.”
“Execute,” Gabbie said. “As in, permanently take a witch’s powers?”
“I don’t think we did a binding spell,” Delali said. “There’s no such thing. I think we’ve Executed the Regent.”