Page 7 of Werewolves and Witches AU

“You know what I mean…”

He’s right, I do. I nod, even though he can’t see me.

We’re very different in many ways, probably wouldn’t ever have become best friends if I hadn’t caught my boyfriend cheating with him and decided we should unite as allies against him. Ray had really appreciated the kindness behind the fruit basket I’d sent him, and we’d nursed our broken hearts together.

“Ethel worries, Milo, that’s all. Like I do. Anyone who truly knows you only wants the best for you.” Ray pauses to sip his wine. “And having a keeper isn’t a bad thing. I mean, imagine it. Someone who cares for you so completely that they remember the foods you don’t like, when you have an important meeting at work, can tell when you’re stressed and know how to defuse it, and will listen when you talk.”

Ray gives a wistful sigh, and I stop spinning my keychain in favour of squeezing it. “Sounds too good to be true.”

“Only because you haven’t met him yet, but you will. That person is out there, waiting for you. That’s who Ethel wants you to find, Milo. It’s who we all want to find.”

“Yeah,” I say. Ray and I are also different when it comes to this topic too. He’s in love with the idea of love—a hoper and a dreamer. I’m a little more practical. If it sounds too good and looks too good, then there’s probably something off with it somewhere. Besides, after the damage Andrew did to us both, I’ve sworn off dating for a little while.

“This isn’t what’s got you down, though, is it? Not really. That’s a me thing, not a you thing. So, come on. Allow me to be your keeper for the evening. Tell me what’s on your mind, and I’ll listen.”

I don’t answer right away, instead looking down at the aged little witch keychain that I’m squeezing the life out of in my lap. Maybe I could try and give voice to whatever this insistent feeling is, even if it’s clumsy. “How did you… when your grandma died the other year, how did you cope?”

“Ah,” is all Ray says.

For the longest time, we sit in companionable silence.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive,” I offer.

At the exact same time as he says, “Ethel’s not… declining, is she?”

“No, no. She’s as feisty and spry as ever. It’s just…”

“Don’t apologise, Miles, it’s okay to talk about Nana’s death. It doesn’t upset me.”

Another silence. More squeezing of the poor witch in my hand.

“Ethel’s great—it’s me,” I admit. “I don’t like the idea that she won’t always be there.”

I form a fist around the keychain and use the back of my hand to wipe away my tears.

“But it feels a bit like standing on a beach and watching a tsunami approach. No, actually it’s not like that at all, because I know enough about spell casting to successfully divert that—probably—but I can’t cast any of the spells that will stop this.”

“No, you can’t!” Ray whispers. Vehemently. “Death magic and shadow work is forbidden by the Witches Council—and for good reason. Milo, please tell me you’re not thinking of doing anything like that?”

“No. I mean, I’ve thought about it. Of course I have. Ethel’s all I have left, and the idea that she… It literally makes me sick. But no. I get why I can’t—”

“Good. Good, Miles, listen to me. That kind of magic is old and dangerous. You really don’t need to be mixed up in anything to do with it.”

Ray’s exhale is long and weighty.

“But I hear you; I’m listening. I think I’ll go and speak to our Coven Leader—again—about you. You need to be with those who can help keep you tethered while you work through this. And if I can get you back into the coven, then you might also be able to get caster’s insurance.”

I snort out another laugh. This one in derision. The Witches Council is a bureaucratic joke, and the bane of my existence. They’re supposed to support witches in a modern world, in a world where scientific reasoning rules and the paranormal has to stay hidden. To this end, they bought a series of schools in the nineteen fifties and opened them “for witches only,” but this designation was hidden behind entrance exams and fees. It was also heavily attached to an individual’s Family Line.

When my parents died unexpectedly in an accident, even though Great Aunt Anabelle stepped in and adopted me, I was deemed too high risk to continue to be taught. A knowledgeable witch, who lacks the grounding and support of their family, is considered a potential threat. Add to that how I also wouldn’t be able to get caster’s insurance, and that no coven would legally be allowed to take me in as a practicing member, and my entire value as a person vanished overnight.

“How would caster’s insurance help me with this? Like you say, shadow work is forbidden, so…”

“Because then you’d be able to cast curative magic.”

“Oh…”

“See, this is what worries me, Milo. Your brain automatically threw up shadow work but not heart-opening spells or rituals of release. This is the whole point of a coven. They’re meant to be a family, of sorts, and maybe if you felt that you had others to help guide you, then you’d feel better when… you know. When the time comes.”