Page 63 of Magical Moonbeam
Twobble considered. “What was I saying? I don’t remember a word of it.”
I turned back to the group. “Let’s get you settled. Then we’ll talk about classes and what you’d be willing to teach. If you truly want to stay…”
A chorus of voices answered before I could finish.
“We do.”
“We’ve been waiting for this.”
“It’s about time.”
Skonk gave me a wink and a small salute with the wooden spoon, and while there was a part of me that wanted to know why he was carrying a utensil around, there was a bigger part who knew better than to ask.
But, somehow, everything was exactly as it should be.
The Moonbeam was drawing closer.
And the Academy, our strange, beautiful, stubborn Academy, was feeling the need to grow.
The heavy oak doors of the Academy creaked open, welcoming the group of midlife witches with a low groan and a shimmer of ambient magic that rippled like a sigh of recognition through the entry hall. Some of the women paused just inside,their eyes wide with awe as they took in the soaring ceilings, the carved stone, and the flickering sconces that lit themselves with a glimmer of awareness.
“Smells like rosewood and mystery,” one of them murmured, hand resting reverently on the banister.
They were home.
I’d barely taken two steps in behind them when a familiar blur of velvet and sarcasm swept in from the left hallway.
Stella.
She was resplendent as ever in deep plum robes, scarlet lipstick, and perfectly smudged eyeliner, a teacup levitating behind her.
“Good heavens, is it a holiday?” she asked, stopping mid-stride and surveying the new arrivals with delight. “Because if so, I’m about to cry, and I don’t do that unless someone dies or my favorite tea gets discontinued.”
“They’re here to help,” I said, smiling as Stella’s eyes sparkled. “Teachers. Or potential teachers. Word got out.”
Stella placed a dramatic hand to her chest.
“New blood?” She paused, then gave a sly grin. “Sorry. Vampire joke.”
The group chuckled, already charmed.
“I could kiss you for this,” she continued, sweeping over to shake hands and kiss cheeks like the social butterfly she was born to be. “I’ve been running three classes and a dream tea interpretation workshop, and my bones are two hundred plus years old, and I’m tired. Nova's been rationing her tarot readings, and Bella accidentally turned someone into a geranium this morning because she was so sleep-deprived.”
“She changed them back, right?” I asked, alarmed.
“Mostly,” Stella said. “But they do prefer sunny windows now.”
The women laughed, visibly relaxing into her presence. Stella had that effect, equal parts elegance and dry absurdity.
Twobble, never far from a grand entrance, trotted in from behind, wearing his best vest. He beamed at the new arrivals after finishing off his lemon scone.
“I volunteer to give the tour,” he said, puffing out his chest. “No one knows the secret halls like I do. Plus, I can do this…”
He spun in a tiny circle and tossed a pebble into the air, where it sparked briefly before vanishing.
There was an awkward pause.
“That’s… impressive?” one of the witches offered kindly.
