Southern Charms

Strangers and Sweet Tea

Mama let me drive home. Alone. It was something of a shock given how angry she'd been about my trip to see Nurse Della, but after washing off the "damned chemical paste" as she called it, she cut me some slack. Though, I doubted Willow would be the recipient of the same mercy. Whatever potion she'd concocted was better suited for hexing an enemy than boosting memory function. It was funny really. I'd expected to receive a lecture from my mother- something along the lines of suffering consequences when you exploited magic, but I think the woman was just happy I'd been willing to try it.

Never again, I thought unlocking my car. As soon as I graduated, I was going to college somewhere it snowed all winter. Preferably without a witch town within a hundred miles. I was done with magic.

The revving of an engine startled me enough to send my keys clattering to the asphalt. Vehicles after dark were rare here. And by rare, I meant I was the only who drove one. A few of the locals owned a car, mostly out of curiosity or for the off chance they might need to spend time out in the real world. For the most part, they stayed hidden away in useless garages until they or a neighbor needed it.

A solitary beam pierced the darkness, growing brighter with its rapid approach. Perhaps it was not a vehicle at all, rather it was an angry, aggressive sort of fairy. They'd been known to lurk in the woods around the town, drawn to the magic, but I'd never heard one sound so fierce before.

The vehicle, a motorcycle to be exact, came to a screeching halt in the road, filling the air with the pungent odor of oil and rubber. Its rider flipped the visor on his helmet and stared at me for several, long seconds. The light put off by the lamps wasn't enough to discern his eye color, and I found myself stepping into the street to solve the mystery.

The corners of those eyes tightened, and without seeing his lips, I knew he was smirking beneath his helmet. A fact that both irritated and thrilled. Who the hell was he? He had to be a warlock- no mere mortal could make it through the town lines after dark, but I knew of no one in Black Briar who had a motorcycle.

"Excuse me," I started, but he winked, snapped his visor shut, and sped off into the night. I followed the red gleam of his brake light until he topped Hollow Hill Road and turned to the left. The direction muddied the waters as much as it cleared them. Only one family lived down that stretch, and I couldn't imagine a single member gallivanting about town on a motorcycle. Okay, well maybe one, but he'd left long ago.

Driving home typically took about ten minutes from the shop. I stretched it out to seventeen minutes. Twenty was possible, but those extra three minutes had been consumed with stranger gazing. Rather than risk questions I didn't want to answer, I cut the time out of my drive. As a result, I was sitting in front of our sprawling purple farmhouse too soon for my liking.

Almost all of the windows were filled with warm, yellow light, and the fluttering of the filmy curtains in the lower windows meant Mama had opened them to enjoy the mild, September night. Though the stars glittered above my head, heat lightning flashed over the horizon. It'd been this way most of the summer, but the cool, fresh scent on the breeze suggested rain.

I breathed deep. A good storm might be just what I needed. A rebirth- cleanse away the summer heat and usher in the fall. Find balance. I may not be magical, but I appreciated the symbolism behind Mabon.

"Hey Daddy," I said. The porch steps groaned beneath my shoes. It was an easy fix, a simple spell, but Mama said she wouldn't fix it as long as she had teenage girls growing up under her roof. Caly and Harmony no longer had curfews, and mine was pointless. In Black Briar, I was persona non grata. No parties or nightly extracurriculars for me.

Daddy didn't respond to my greeting, nor did I expect him to. I sat down next to him and rested my chin on my palm. It was nice, sitting here with no need to speak. Once, I'd have thought he'd disagree with that assessment, but after all these years, I was beginning to suspect he quite enjoyed finding himself in this predicament. He sure found himself here more often than not as of late.