Sticky Witch IX

A tea-date with a mortal enemy

Rosen is part of a team of Material Practitioners engaged in house restoration, protection, and charmwork. She’s just escaped a mob at Avebury Henge after a man dropped dead of magical ageing under her hands. Now, she’s stuck in an exquisite English team room with Glenda Hale - the witch who sent her brother to prison. Catch up with the last episode or read the entire story (for free) from the beginning.

Avebury’s tearooms were kept in the library which looked like a Hollywood wizard’s study and therefore fancier than anything a modern practitioner would use. Out of the team, Em was the only witch with a dedicated space which resembled an escape room more than a study. The rest of us had pockets, paniers and iPads.

Three of the linen-clad tables were occupied with families who stared at us wide-eyed over their cakes. The fourth had an upright gentleman in a three-piece suit with a shock of white hair, gold-rimmed glasses and a disdainful moustache. Unlike the rest of the room, he slurped his tea while reading a newspaper. We didn’t even merit a glance.

Glenda took control by ushering us to the final table and pulling out a chair. John dumped me in it, whisking away the knotted cord that had kept me aloft with a flick of his fingers. Liam patted me on the shoulder. “Any dizziness or short breath? No? Good. I’ll get help.”

Satisfied, he wandered off, leaving me to stare at Glenda.

For once, she wasn’t in a damn suit. Instead, she had Wellington boots, figure-flattering jeans and a blue embroidered top under a padded jacket. The whole ensemble screamed “middle-class day out”, and I half-expected a Golden Retriever to appear at her side. I scowled. She smiled, took her seat and shuffled the menus.

“I was about to order tea,” she said.

“We’re good,” John said hoarsely.

“Hmmm. What about you, Rosen? I heard you were at the centre of a power surge earlier. Tea is good for shock.”

“I’m not supposed to speak or approach you,” I said, settling for civility instead of stabbing her. “You took out a restraining order, remember?”

Glenda sighed theatrically. “Against your mother. In fear of my life.”

“Nope, it applied to any relation of Mark Pierce.” I looked up at John. “I can’t be here.”

Glenda waved a hand at the student waitress, who bustled over. “I won’t tell if you don’t, dear.”

I pressed my lips together and wondered if I could hex her under the table. John gave me a warning glance and shook his head. I was in enough trouble and the police were on their way.

“A pot of tea, two cups and the strongest expresso that you do for Mr Abney here,” Glenda said blithely to our server. “We also need some cupcakes and a brownie – I’ve heard you are partial to those, Rosen – oh, and three Diet Cokes.”

The girl nodded and left. Glenda relaxed, tapping her fingernails against the tabletop and staring at me, like a cat who had cornered a mouse. “A few of my coven will join us, shortly” she said. “Just in case.”

“We’re not looking for trouble,” John said. He settled into the chair next to me and wrapped his dowsing cords around his left hand. “We’re just waiting on the authorities so Rosen can get treatment at the hospital. Whatever you want with her can wait, Glenda.”

“It really can’t,” she said. The bonhomie dropped from her face, thinning her cheeks and narrowing her eyes into chips of grey-blue slate. “Wild magic’s back, John and today was a disaster. If normal people think witches can kill with a touch, they’ll lock us up as terrorists. We need to show the world we can self-regulate.”

John’s lips twitched. “Today was an accident. Cecelia got careless and I’m sure she will get replaced at the next coven meet.”

Glenda scoffed. “Oh, that’s fine, then. What about witches outside of the coven structure?” She stabbed a finger at me. “All it takes is one bad apple, and people will think the whole basket is poisoned. We can’t afford division here.”

“You’d know about that,” I snapped. “After everything you did in the riots.”

Glenda raised an eyebrow. “I was acquitted by the courts. Wrong time, wrong place. Are you trying to accuse me of something, Ms Pierce?”

“No accusation necessary,” I said, smiling back. “We already know you’re a liar.”

The words hung in the air as the waitress returned with the tray of drinks. We sat silently as she set them out, enquired about the sugar and left to get the cakes.

Glenda moved first, pushing the coffee towards John and stirring the tea in the pot. “You are wrong,” she said smoothly. “But I understand why you feel that way, with Mark in prison – of course, you will take your brother’s side.”

I bristled as she pushed the teacup my way.

“However, the past stays in the past. I’m more concerned about keeping us all out of prison in the present.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” John asked grimly.

“A coven register, with internal offences dealt in-house. There’s precedent.”

John shook his head in disgust. “You’re talking about the pagan equivalent of a Sharia Court. Hell, no.”

“We’re not religious,” I chimed in. “And there’s no way the judges would be impartial.”

“More impartial than a jury of laymen who’ve just heard about magical heart attacks?” Glenda shot back. She added a sugar lump to her tea and stirred the cup. The chink of steel on china sounded like tiny punctuation marks. Chink, chink, chink. “Do you really think you will get a fair hearing with your powers, Rosen? At least your peers will be aware of the…nuances of the craft.”

“And the punishments?” John asked. “A ducking stool, a shunning or a good old-fashioned noose?”

Glenda shrugged. “That’s not up to me. But if we don’t do something, it won’t be up to any of us soon. Witches have been left alone in this country on a voluntary basis. But it’s become too big to ignore.”

I put aside my resentment for one moment and looked at her – really looked at her. I don’t have Latika’s empathy, but I do have a lifetime of reading body language mixed with a healthy dose of cynicism. Chipped nails, tense posture and lousy skin, carefully covered with makeup. She’s terrified. The thought crawled into my brain and dropped directly into my gut. Glenda didn’t have any boundaries regarding magic. What could spook someone like her?

Liam chose that moment to come back. “We’ve got the ambulance outside,” he chirped, then took in the angry tableau. “Is everything OK?”

“What do you mean wild magic’s back?” I asked Glenda abruptly.

“We’re going,” John said, getting up.

Glenda waited as the men levered me into a standing position. I was still shaky but stronger than before.

“You need to ask your brother,” she said.

“C’mon,” John said, swivelling me around. Feeling petty, I tapped my hand against the table at the last moment, making everything stick to it. Glenda made a noise like a strangled goose as she tried to lift her teacup. Everybody else gazed at her, but I caught the gentleman's expression in the corner. His eyes marched from my hand to my face, and his eyebrows lifted. Feeling like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar, I gave him a lazy salute as Liam steered me out of the room.

Read Part 10