Page 13 of Return to Garoureve

“What?”

“Dinner. You and me. Not tonight, because I have a few appointments, but maybe Wednesday?”

“Yes,” he answered in a rush, his eyes wide. “Yes, I would love to—”

It happened so fast, she wasn’t even prepared for it. He set down the pot on the front desk and stepped towards her, like he was going to pick her up and spin her, or something like he would have done in their youth. She couldn’t stop him, couldn’t keep him from approaching, because for as bad of an idea as she knew it was... she wanted him to touch her. She wanted the memory of his touch.

His hands went to her waist, and she was thankfully wearing high waisted shorts, but the top of his thumbs brushed against bare skin, between where the denim ended and her crop top began. She felt the heat of his touch, and then—

They both gasped in pain, jerking away from one another. It was so hot, worse than a burn, worse than setting herself on fire. Henrik was walking away from her, shaking his hands, and she turned around just in time to see the to-go cup with her tea burst into flames... and the potted violet as well.

“Fuck,” she gasped, stepping forward to try and put it out. Of course it would be on her desk, where important papers were. They had barely even touched!

“Shit, Little Witch... I don’t remember it ever being that bad!”

Because it wasn’t. Because it had never been that bad. Ever.

“I think it’s best you go,” she said, turning away from him as she picked up the pot. The pot itself wasn’t hot, only the flowers which were now charred...

“And dinner?”

“It’s best you go.”

That was why. That was why they couldn’t be together. That was why his false hope was pointless, and being nice to him was cruel.

Because she would never break the spell.

And they would never be able to touch again.

“Ineedtospeakto my mother.”

The witch on the other end of the line sighed, likely annoyed she was the one who was stuck picking up the phone. It was so interesting to Violet how witches had such capabilities of being able to connect to modern resources like water and electric and cable, even with moving ley lines and boundaries and existences on other planes, but the second one of them actually had to use the phone...

What, did they want her to tie a note to a bird? Or would they rather she send a telegram?

“Name—”

“You know exactly who I am.” It wasn’t normal for a witch to be calling her mother, and not actually be with her mother. Witches were always born with magic, and the magic grew within them. Learning to control their magic was something taught by the whole coven, yes, but most particularly by a mother to her daughter. For a woman to be calling, asking for her mother...

Also, they had caller ID.

“Fine.”

The line went silent as Violet was placed on hold, and she rolled her eyes as the soft music began to play. She had heard the music before, many times before, while waiting to hear whether or not her mother was even with a coven. Was Mabel avoiding her, or was it something less nefarious? No matter the reason, she was highly annoyed, waiting for news.

Either Mabel was with the coven, or she wasn’t. And if she was... then why was she avoiding her daughter’s phone calls?

Tapping her nails on her kitchen counter, Violet looked over at her bed. She had stripped the bedding off and thrown them all into a trash bag, and her mattress, she had flipped. She would have to replace it, but not when her magic was on edge.

It scared her, how her powers were exploding. The pain as well, when they had touched—it had never been like that before. When they were younger, it was a slight zap which wasn’t comfortable, but they had been able to push through it a few times on occasion.

As for the flames... sure, she had lit every candle in the house before, but to set her bed on fire?

“Violet, sweet girl, is that you?”

Almost immediately, a sense of relief flooded through Violet’s system... only for her to be set on edge. She never knew how to properly talk to her mother. They had been so close, once, but after everything that happened... she had blamed her mother for so much. For her loss of ability, for her distance from Henrik, for leaving Garoureve... Was some of it deserved? Perhaps, looking back, it might not all be, and yet...

Forgiving her mother was hard when she had never admitted to doing anything wrong.

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