Rick stared at his agitated friend in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

            “Her.” Booey nodded in Kimberly's direction. “Her and her sisters. They're witches!”

            Rick glanced down at the long neck in the man's hand. “Booey, have you been swinging between beer and the hard stuff?”

            “I'm not shitting you, man! She's bad news!” He put his free hand on Rick's shoulder. Rick quickly brushed it off.

            “Have you eaten anything since we've been here?”

            Booey looked hurt that his best bud wasn't taking him seriously. Reaching over the tray, Rick grabbed a slice of pizza and held it out to him.

            “Here. Eat something. It'll help clear that buzz in your head. You just probably misunderstood them.”

            Booey took the pizza, but didn't take a bite. “What do you mean, I misunderstood them?”

            “Maybe I'd better go.” For the first time, Kimberly commented in response to Booey's announcement. Rick leaned over and grabbed her hand.

            “No,” he told her firmly. “You're staying. I'm not letting—”

            “What do you mean, I misunderstood?” Booey loudly demanded again.

            Rick sighed loudly. He was tired. Tired from the long drive. Tired from their indoctrination at the new job. And more than that, he was tired of Booey sticking his nose in his personal life.

            “Maybe they said bitches! ” he almost yelled. “Maybe they said she and her sisters were bitches! Now get out of my face before I plant my fist in the middle of yours!”

            Booey got up and stomped out of the building. It was then Rick realized the other patrons had been watching the drama, curious to see how it would end. Well, he hated to disappoint them, but he was in no mood for fisticuffs.

            Fortunately, Booey was smart enough to know when he had tread on his friend's last nerve, and it was time to back off. Rick took a swig of his beer. Someone punched up a Rolling Stones oldie on the jukebox, and the noise gradually resumed its normal level. It was then he realized he was still gripping Kimberly's hand.

            “Please forgive my friend. He can get...intense.”

            “It's okay,” she whispered. “Maybe...maybe you need to go apologize to him.”

            Rick gave her a puzzled look. “Apologize? Why?”

            “Because he's right,” she softly told him.

            “Right about what?”

            “About me and my sisters.”

            He gave a little grunt. “I don't care what he thinks, or what he says about you and your family.”

            “Maybe...maybe you should.”

            He paused with the beer at his lips. Now he was curious. “Maybe I should? What for? Lots of guys call women bitches, especially if a girl brushes off a guy.”

            “That's not what I meant,” Kimberly explained, slowly shaking her head. “He was right about me being a witch. A witch, Rick. Not a bitch. Daddy is a warlock, and my sisters and I are witches.”

            Rick stared at her for several seconds, then set his beer on the table. “Okay. That does it. I'm too tired to think straight, and alcohol isn't helping.”

            A warm hand grabbed his upper arm. Rick felt her fingers flex around his biceps, as if testing them.

            “Rick.”

            He looked over to see Kimberly smiling at him, and instantly his cock went back to petrified wood status.

            “If this moment has any chance of going any further, you need to know the truth. Momma was a mortal, like you are. Daddy fell in love with her, and we were born. But we don't have all the powers Daddy has. We're not full witches. We're witchlets. Half witches.”

            “Half witches,” Rick echoed.

            Kimberly nodded.

            “You mean, like you cast spells and such?”

            “We can. We do...sometimes.”

            He started laughing. Not because he found what she'd said funny, but because the whole situation felt preposterous.

            “You don't believe me?”

            “I-I believe you,” he managed to say.

            She looked down at the empty bottle in his hand. “How would you like another beer?”

            Taking a deep breath, Rick nodded. “All right.” He started to get a waitress's attention, but Kimberly grabbed his hand and lowered it to the table. Reaching over with her other hand, she tapped the mouth of the bottle.

            “Cold enough for you?”

            Rick stared at her. He gingerly lifted the bottle, aware of its increased weight. Keeping his eyes on her expression, he took a sip.

            “Damn!”

            He blinked in shock and peered into the mouth.

            “It's full!”

            “Yep.”

            He looked at her. “You filled it up?”

            “Uh-huh.”

            “With witchcraft?”

            She shrugged with one shoulder, but he could tell she was enjoying herself.

            “If you want to call it that.”

            “People like you really exist?”

            “We always have. We've learned to stick to ourselves and try not to create waves. Why do you think we live so far out of town?”

            “Except for nights you like to come in here and play bare bellies and beer.” He grinned to show he was teasing.

            She giggled. “You're right, but you have to remember we're considered locals. Momma was born and raised in this area. All my sisters and I are native Topperites. We don't cause trouble, and because we keep pretty much to ourselves, people around here tolerate us.”

            “I don't suppose if I piss you off, you might turn me into a frog or something?”

            Kimberly suddenly grew serious. “I could never turn you into a frog.”

            “You sure?” He smiled, hoping to hide his nervousness. This woman was a real witch. A real living and breathing, spell-casting witch. The longer he sat there with her, the more confusion he felt because he was comfortable with her. Regardless of the fact that she claimed, and was, a creature he'd never believed actually existed, it felt so natural to be with her, as if they were meant to be together. He didn't know if he should run screaming, or live dangerously and take the risk.

            “Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “I don't have that kind of power.”

            Rick stared at his full bottle of beer, debating what his next move would be, when Kimberly took matters into her own hands. He felt her cup his chin and lift it, as if to make him look her in the face. A second later, she was kissing him.