A few years ago, before I moved out of the coven house, I started seeing this one warlock, Chester. Well, Chester wasn’t his real name; that was, I don’t know, Charleston Copernicus Throckmorton or something like that, but he’d shortened it to Chester because he wanted to blend in with humans. I mean, I’ve never met a human named Chester, but whatever. That was about when we got the word from the Elders about hanging out with humans and getting jobs and all that, and Chester, like me, was young enough to be willing to give it a try.
Actually, I was more than willing. I was already well on my way to being out-of-my-mind bored with traditional witchkind life, with being trapped in the coven house tatting doilies and brewing dumb little spells in the kitchen for a few hundred years, waiting for my older sisters to decide to go to the Beyond so that I could move up the coven ranks and—whoopie!—become a senior witch, who got to move around the Circle closer to the head and tell the younger witches what to do. And then go the Beyond myself when I got to be four hundred. I mean, what’s the point of that? Are doilies the only reason we’re here on this plane, so powerful and long-lived? I didn’t think so.
Michael snuck a glance at his watch, nodding politely as he did so, neither of which the old woman noticed. He'd been stuck in this smelly house for more than an hour. He should have converted this pagan to a Jehovah's Witness twenty-five minutes ago.
I'll give her five more minutes, he thought sullenly as she continued on, barely pausing to take a breath. After that, I swear to God I'm going to become a Quaker.
Opening: Calendula.....Continuation: freddie