mustang. However, when I let my fingers run along its smooth metallic side, I felt the decay and rust of a much older car. I jumped back with a start, and Stefanie stifled a small giggle.
“Appearances can be deceiving,” she said as I watched her recite an incantation with familiar ease. The car shifted before my eyes and became an old, rusty Chevy. My aunt never cast a spell like that. It seemed oddly self-serving and thrilling at the same time. An aspect of magic I had never explored. I felt a little twinge of longing for what I would eventually be giving up, but I remained resolute. I would not help these witches. I would avenge my mother. Then I would give up being a witch. Forever.
“C’mon,” Stefanie beckoned, “It’s time for you to meet my mother.” I stared up at the house, which seemed to tower above me like a watchtower. They may have placed a spell on the car to make it appear more modern and fresh-off-the-lot new, but the house did not appear to have any spell on it. An older home, it had been awhile since anyone had painted it. It had once been white, with a brown trim around the windows and doors, but the paint cracked and peeled at every knot or splinter in the wood. It looked as if you could simply peel away the paint like sunburnt skin.
I followed Stefanie onto the steps of a wrap-around front porch. The steps didn’t audibly creak, but I could feel them bend to the pressure of each step in protest of too many years of use. I ran my hand over the porch railing and watched as flakes of paint fluttered to the ground like ashes. I shuddered, remembering the smoke and later, a memory not quite so fresh, the smoldering remnants of a place that was once a safe haven turned tomb.
Before we reached the front door, it opened and a familiar face appeared in the doorway.
“Jade, we are so glad to finally have you here,” Madilyn greeted me. She looked older. I had only placed my child self in her arms hours ago, and although I knew I looked exactly the same to her, she had aged over the years that had passed since that moment. Still, she looked much the same. Her deep brown eyes had not changed. Her hair had an auburn tint to the brown it had been, but it looked like a dye to add some pizzazz to her normal hair color. She couldn’t have been more than twenty or so when I first met her, so she was probably in her mid to late thirties now. How strange. We met for the first time only hours ago, and we were roughly the same age. Now she was older than me. Yet another surreal effect of time travel.
My resolution ebbed slightly. It was easy to imagine denying a group of strangers my help, but much more difficult to deny the last person my mother had tried to help. I forced a smile so as not to reveal the conflict I felt.
“Hello, Madilyn. I would say it has been awhile, but it doesn’t feel like it.”
Madilyn smiled and touched my shoulder with compassion. She knew what the last twenty-four hours of my life had been like. Her rose-colored aura matched Stefanie’s almost exactly. I wondered if Stefanie was younger than me or if Madilyn never got around to revealing she had a daughter that first night. She may not have known whether Stefanie would be safer wherever she was that night rather than in a bar full of strangers revealing themselves to be witches trying to protect her.
Madilyn kept her hand on my shoulder and ushered me into the house. Sunlight filtered into the living room through lacy curtains. There was no television. Several mismatched couches and chairs made a circle in the living room, incorporating an old fireplace. I secretly laughed every time I saw a fireplace in Florida; they served more as a novelty than a necessity. At least in a house of witches it might be useful.
Amy stood up from a couch covered in floral print. I recognized her immediately. Her blond hair only skimmed her shoulders now, and
“Appearances can be deceiving,” she said as I watched her recite an incantation with familiar ease. The car shifted before my eyes and became an old, rusty Chevy. My aunt never cast a spell like that. It seemed oddly self-serving and thrilling at the same time. An aspect of magic I had never explored. I felt a little twinge of longing for what I would eventually be giving up, but I remained resolute. I would not help these witches. I would avenge my mother. Then I would give up being a witch. Forever.
“C’mon,” Stefanie beckoned, “It’s time for you to meet my mother.” I stared up at the house, which seemed to tower above me like a watchtower. They may have placed a spell on the car to make it appear more modern and fresh-off-the-lot new, but the house did not appear to have any spell on it. An older home, it had been awhile since anyone had painted it. It had once been white, with a brown trim around the windows and doors, but the paint cracked and peeled at every knot or splinter in the wood. It looked as if you could simply peel away the paint like sunburnt skin.
I followed Stefanie onto the steps of a wrap-around front porch. The steps didn’t audibly creak, but I could feel them bend to the pressure of each step in protest of too many years of use. I ran my hand over the porch railing and watched as flakes of paint fluttered to the ground like ashes. I shuddered, remembering the smoke and later, a memory not quite so fresh, the smoldering remnants of a place that was once a safe haven turned tomb.
Before we reached the front door, it opened and a familiar face appeared in the doorway.
“Jade, we are so glad to finally have you here,” Madilyn greeted me. She looked older. I had only placed my child self in her arms hours ago, and although I knew I looked exactly the same to her, she had aged over the years that had passed since that moment. Still, she looked much the same. Her deep brown eyes had not changed. Her hair had an auburn tint to the brown it had been, but it looked like a dye to add some pizzazz to her normal hair color. She couldn’t have been more than twenty or so when I first met her, so she was probably in her mid to late thirties now. How strange. We met for the first time only hours ago, and we were roughly the same age. Now she was older than me. Yet another surreal effect of time travel.
My resolution ebbed slightly. It was easy to imagine denying a group of strangers my help, but much more difficult to deny the last person my mother had tried to help. I forced a smile so as not to reveal the conflict I felt.
“Hello, Madilyn. I would say it has been awhile, but it doesn’t feel like it.”
Madilyn smiled and touched my shoulder with compassion. She knew what the last twenty-four hours of my life had been like. Her rose-colored aura matched Stefanie’s almost exactly. I wondered if Stefanie was younger than me or if Madilyn never got around to revealing she had a daughter that first night. She may not have known whether Stefanie would be safer wherever she was that night rather than in a bar full of strangers revealing themselves to be witches trying to protect her.
Madilyn kept her hand on my shoulder and ushered me into the house. Sunlight filtered into the living room through lacy curtains. There was no television. Several mismatched couches and chairs made a circle in the living room, incorporating an old fireplace. I secretly laughed every time I saw a fireplace in Florida; they served more as a novelty than a necessity. At least in a house of witches it might be useful.
Amy stood up from a couch covered in floral print. I recognized her immediately. Her blond hair only skimmed her shoulders now, and
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