Familiarity Breeds Witchcraft (6 page)

Thorn swooped off and crossed the room with three flaps of his strong wings before alighting on Kimberly’s shoulder.
 

“C’mon, doggy!”

Gemma heard the heavy thump of Keene running around the house, followed by the scrabble of Bronson’s nails on the polished hardwood floors. The dog’s deep bark echoed throughout the space.

Playing with children was Bronson’s one and only exercise—and probably the only reason he didn’t weigh as much as an elephant, considering how much he loved bacon.

“Play nice!” Maddock called out to his son. With a twinkle in his eyes he looked to Gemma, his fond smile an indication he wasn’t really upset with either his son or the dog. Nodding toward the back door, he said, “Rowan’s out in the barn getting supplies together if you’d like to go meet with her. We can keep an eye on Bronson.”

“Thanks.” Gemma took a sniff of air heavy with the smell of fresh-baked goods.

After giving her guest a brief smile of welcome, Kimberly returned her intense gaze to the ingredients she stirred in a large bowl she held with practiced ease. Several loaves of bread just out of the stone oven built into one side of the hearth lay out on the oversized table.

Though she’d just eaten, Gemma’s mouth watered. She nodded toward the bread. “Looks like another great batch and smells delicious.”

“Thanks,” said Kimberly, blowing a strand of hair out of her eye. The smudges of flour dusting one cheek and the tip of her nose did nothing to detract from her beauty, as fierce and withdrawn as Thorn’s. “I’ll send one home with you if you like.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Gemma gave Kimberly a grateful smile as she headed out back.

White accents broke up the vivid red paint job on the exterior of the main barn on the Leif property. The structure seemed just what Gemma expected a barn to be, maybe in part because she’d grown up with this one, but also because all her childhood books seemed to have red barns in them, too. The building looked so well-cared-for that it seemed more like a second house than storage space for farm implements and animals. Antique lanterns hanging from hooks on either side of the open doors swung in the gentle breeze.

She crossed the barnyard through a flock of clucking chickens scratching in the raked dirt, the birds the same yellows and browns as the leaves swirling from the trees to the ground. A couple of goats bleated at her as she passed their pen, the animals’ wide eyes glistening in the bright sunlight and the wattles on their necks wobbling as they chewed. In the back of the enclosure she saw a mama with two new kids, the babies suckling at her teats.
 

Adorable
, she thought.
New babies are so darn cute. And I am never, ever having one of my own.

Gemma chuckled at herself.

She mentally added,
No human babies. I might get goats later
.

But only if they promised not to eat her computer cable friends.

The wide barn doors stood open and she stepped into the gloom, shivering in a sudden temperature drop as she waited for her vision to adapt.

The space smelled of saddle soap, straw, and the horses stabled at the opposite end. Hay covering the hard-packed dirt floor crunched beneath her feet as she stepped further in, taking care not to trip. She remembered all the sharp farm implements stored along the walls and feared one of them having been left out of place; she gave a wry smile as the thought reminded her of a horror movie she’d watched with Fox, where the heroine hid in an old barn until law enforcement arrived to save her from the potential murderer.

Though not in Gemma’s usual area of interest, Fox had assured her of a happy ending, instead of the gore so prominent in modern horror. She’d been happy to find that not only did the heroine live, but the savior was a female cop, not a man.

If only they’d ended up together…
Shame how even in movies, gorgeous women didn’t seem to end up with companionship from their like.

After a few moments, Gemma found she could make out the unlit strands of clear lightbulbs hanging from the rafters. Rowan was bent over a couple baskets similar to the ones in the main house with a jar of spell ingredients in each hand. The oversized flannel shirt hiding her belly looked like something Garrett might own and Gemma smiled at the picture she presented. She’d tied back her honey blonde hair and, as usual, wore no makeup. Rowan didn’t seem to care how she looked as long as she felt comfortable and Gemma felt a momentary pang of envy as she adjusted her own outfit.

“You should be sitting in a chair, not on the ground,” she said when Rowan didn’t acknowledge her. She crossed to join the other woman and noticed these baskets already contained a variety of the glass containers. A lot of work had been done already that day. “That can’t be comfortable—or good for you.”

Straightening with some difficulty, Rowan rested her hands on her hips and rubbed the small of her own back with her fingers. “You sound like Nana.” She put out her hands. “Help me up?”

“She’s been around long enough to have learned a thing or two.” Gemma crossed to grab the proffered hands and braced herself. Though not a large woman, the added baby weight made helping Rowan a little tricky, and she didn’t want to take the chance of allowing her friend to fall back onto the hard ground. “I know it gets annoying, but you should listen to her every once in a while.”

She realized she didn’t have the same commanding presence as Nana at her young age. Gemma might be a few years older than Rowan, but they didn’t have enough of an age gap for her to serve as a mother figure, though that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to share some good advice.

“I’m not much help these days, I’m afraid.” Sighing, Rowan brushed off the seat of her maternity jeans as she crossed to a rocking chair that must have been brought into the barn just for her. She lowered her cumbersome bulk into the deep cushions. “I’m so sick of being pregnant. This baby’s never going to make an appearance.”

Gemma couldn’t even imagine the frustration of feeling so trapped by the lack of control over her own body. With nothing helpful to add, she only clucked in sympathy. “The others should be here pretty soon. We can wait until they show up to finish.”

She sat on a bale of straw and pulled her tablet out of her purse. Adjusting her skirt to keep sharp stalks from tearing her stockings and scratching her legs, she toggled the device on and pulled up her e-mail. Fox had sent a message linking her to a couple new pictures. Fox looked stunning, her hands supporting her chin, a playful smile on her face for the camera.
 

Warmth filled Gemma and she couldn’t help but smile back at the images. Caught up in reading the message accompanying them, she didn’t notice Rowan’s approach until the other woman spoke over her shoulder.

Rowan reached out and took the tablet. “Is that her?”

Gemma snatched the device back and flipped the case closed, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. For a pregnant person, Rowan moved with the quiet stealth of a cat. “Hey!”

“Sorry. I need to go use the bathroom and just happened to catch a glance at the picture.” Rowan held her hands out in a gesture of apology. “I didn’t mean to pry into your private business or make you uncomfortable.”

Realizing she’d overreacted yet again, Gemma got up. “Here, I’ll help you.”
 

Rowan backed up and batted Gemma’s hands away. “I’m not an invalid. I think I can manage the walk to the bathroom on my own.” Her smile softened her words as she nodded toward the tablet Gemma still held. “
Was
that your friend? She’s really pretty.”

Gemma grabbed her purse and stuffed the tablet inside. “You know, I think I’ll go home for now. My help isn’t needed for this part of the process. Tell Enid I’ll catch up with her later, please.” She stepped around Rowan and hurried for the door.

“But Gemma…”

No way would she hang around with the possibility of a grilling about Fox hanging over her head.

Gemma had only hung out with Rowan so much lately because she didn’t pry the way the others did.

If Rowan was taking that particular page from Nana’s book, well, then Gemma was just going to have to go back to the attic. Alone.
 

With a casual wave, Gemma said, “Bye, Rowan.”
 

She hurried away from the farm without going into the house again. Bronson could stay until Enid showed up. He and Keene could have some quality play time together. The lazy beast didn’t get enough exercise anyway. For all she knew, he might be overweight beneath all his fur.

Though she could have contacted Fox on the way home, she waited until she reached the safety of her attic, dropping to the sofa and wrapping herself in a blanket against the chill breeze blowing in through the open window. She looked out over the village and chewed on her thumbnail as she thought about what to say.

I feel weird about this,
she typed. She bit her lip before sending the vague message.

Gemma didn’t know why the situation felt so strange to her. People asked for help with spells all the time. As a solitary practitioner, Fox had no coven of her own to help boost her powers, so her asking for help from the people of Secret Hallow wasn’t unusual.

After thinking for a few moments, Gemma added,
I shouldn’t do your love spell this way. Accepting money isn’t really in the spirit of this type of magic, you know?

When Fox didn’t answer right away, Gemma set down her phone so she wouldn’t keep checking for a response, then made the trek down the two flights of stairs in search of food.

She snapped on the overhead light and looked around at ultra-modern appliances designed to blend into the historic style of the kitchen. No stainless steel here. The original wooden counters glowed from a recent polishing with essential oils and Gemma could almost feel a tingle of magic from them as she passed by. Not only did they cook in the kitchen, but they conjured here, as had many generations of the Ash family before them. Even the legendary Emilia had used their ancient table in her own house back in the day.

She grabbed a brass canister filled with roasted pumpkin seeds out of the pantry. They’d need to make more before too long, the way she’d been going through them. Nerves caused her to overeat her favorite food.

As she hurried back upstairs, she heard Fox’s specific chime. Gemma hurried up the attic flight and set her snack on the edge of her desk as she picked up and toggled on her phone.

I understand. Makes sense,
read Fox’s message.
What do you want to do about it?

Wasn’t that the question?

At least she understood. But of course Fox understood. She had grown to become Gemma’s best online buddy for good reason.

Gemma poured a few seeds into the palm of her hand and nibbled on them as she took time to think about her response. The snack wasn’t as appetizing as usual so she dropped the last few back into the canister. Running a hand through her long hair in frustration, she heaved a sigh, then typed,
Maybe you should just take back the donation. The ComePayMe doesn’t send the money through until I end the campaign, right?

Fox answered right away this.
Donation’s gone. You can check the site.

Gemma trusted Fox, but woke up the computer anyway in response to her friend’s request. She’d left the ComePayMe site up so she refreshed the browser and watched the graph drop back down to the ten percent funding level.

Somehow, she didn’t feel any better.

Thanks, Fox.
She imagined the other woman might feel disappointed and wanted to reassure her.
We’re still working on the spell. I’m happy to help! I’ll keep you posted.

Thanks, babe,
Fox responded.
Everything okay over there?

Of course. You good?

You’re going to help me find the love of my life. What’s not good about that?

A lump the size of the Elder Tree formed in Gemma’s throat and she felt the threatening sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. Why should she get so upset about helping? They were just friends. Fox was her…

Fox was…

“Oh,
pumpkins
.” Gemma held a hand to her chest.

She’d fallen head over heels in love with Fox.

GEMMA AWOKE IN her own bed the next morning. She’d burned candles in her room before falling asleep in an attempt to clear out the weird energies she’d generated after realizing how she felt about her online BFF. The smell of spices lingered on the air and infused the soft cotton of the pillowcase upon which she lay. She enjoyed the sweet, if unfamiliar, scent. She usually didn’t burn candles around the electronics in the attic and spent most of her time up there instead of in her room.

She threw an arm across her eyes and imagined her computers. The night before seemed so long ago and she couldn’t remember whether she’d shut everything down before heading for bed. Not that leaving them on was a problem, really. She just worried about power surges affecting her electronic babies despite the many protective backups she’d employed.

If something happened, she could also restore just about anything with a spell, couldn’t she?

She thought hard for a few moments. The thought she couldn’t remember bothered her.

No, she felt sure she’d turned everything off. The vague image of her going through her extended shutdown procedures after starting on the new fundraising channel popped into her mind.
 

They’d added incentives to the existing ComeFundMe page and Fox sent out a few feelers in the direction of her readership to find out if any of them might be interested in contributing. Though this continued to be more help than Gemma felt comfortable accepting from Fox, the other woman insisted she needed to make proper repayment for the love spell somehow.
 

When they finished she wished Fox as neutral a good night as possible without arousing any suspicion. Gemma didn’t want her friend thinking she was mad about something when she felt just the opposite.

“Black cats in a path,” she whispered to herself.

Oh,
Fox
.