Witch My Crazy Works Read online

  Witch, My Crazy Works

  Em Pitts

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Em Pitts

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Book Cover Design by White Rabbit Creations

  Created with Vellum

  This one is for those who fight for their beliefs, large or small. May you always get your happy ending.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  The garish words across the page were making my brain bleed. Seriously, there must be a clot up there ready to burst at any moment. No amount of magic in the world would ever be enough to make me enjoy the trash that Jess decided to shove into my face this morning.

  Give me smut, give me comedy, give me a thrill-seeking vampiric woman who has a weakness for chocolate, and I'd enjoy it. Thrust a magazine under my nose with dating advice printed within the pages, and I'd have a stroke. It was too damn early in the morning for this.

  "...or even order a husband from another country at this point!" Jess huffed, throwing her arms down by her sides while I continued to stare at the ceiling. Was that a stain up there?

  I love my best friend. I love my best friend. We, meaning myself and my inner crazy, would not murder our best friend for disagreeing with our choices. Everyone is unique and makes different choices, we accepted that, even if we didn't agree. So, I loved my best friend, and despite the pitiful attempt she was making currently, or perhaps because of it, I knew she loved me.

  "Good morning, Wicked Witch of the West. How's the air feel up there on your broomstick this morning?" I forced a smile and finally took my attention away from the ceiling stain, which had to be the result of a potion disaster from my teenage years, to focus on the crazy curly-haired woman.

  "Almost one month, Cameron! That's it! Time isn't going to stop because you want to keep up with this...this scheme that won't even work." My body bounced when she plopped down beside me and joined me in staring at the ceiling. I watched her glassy eyes for only a moment before I rolled onto my side and suction cupped myself to her.

  "It's my choice, Jess." She snorted, but I continued, "Will it really be so bad if I didn't have my powers? Will you love me less?" My last sentence was a whisper, because I didn't want to ask her that.

  Lillian, my mother, might love me less; she might even disown me with the way things are working out. Father would take her side and my brothers, Arthur and Marcus, well, there was no telling which way they would go.

  A witch without her powers lived a half-life. We were born with magic, some stronger than others, and the magic worked like a piece of our soul. Without magic, it felt like constantly wading through water, a struggle just to walk properly and an easy way to lose yourself. Or so I’d heard from those who had lost their magic.

  I didn't want to lose my magic. That was never the goal and still wasn't. I did, however, want to be able to keep my magic without having to be bound to another person for the rest of my life.

  "I'll always love you, Cameron. Powers or not." Jess whispered back and turned into my hug. "I just want what's best for you."

  Me too. I stopped myself from saying the words and held her instead. There was no point in arguing with someone who couldn't see the world through your eyes.

  Needing a change of subject, I cleared my throat and shoved my depressing thoughts aside. I grabbed the offending magazine from its smushed place behind me and smiled at the wrinkles.

  "Love at First Sight: Romantic or Romanticized?" I read one of the boldly printed article titles on the cover. "I'm almost curious if that one will be full of crap or actually thought out," I mused.

  "Not that one. You're supposed to read this one." Jess pointed to the larger print on the right.

  "Eight Tips to go from Casual to Committed Relationship,” I read as she pointed at it. “I'm not even dating casually, numbnuts." I snorted and whacked her with the magazine, smiling widely at the glare she sent me.

  "You sleep around." She pointed out, like that meant exactly what she wanted it to mean.

  "You poor, sheltered woman, you." I mocked, shaking my head slowly. Jess, who had only been with her husband and no other, probably thought I was dating the guys whose beds I graced. I lowered my voice to whisper conspiratorially, while giving her my most serious expression. "That's called fucking."

  "Ughh!" She threw her hands up, whacking me on the side of the head, while I cackled at her. Somehow, this turned into a pillow fight of epic proportions, ending with our legs tangled on the floor and my duvet barely holding on to the bed.

  "Uncle! Uncle! I give already!" She cried, while I whooped in triumph.

  A quick wave of my hand and the bed was fixed again as everything floated back into place. She shook her head and opened her mouth, but I stopped her. I didn't want to hear her say anything about how I would feel not being able to do that, or some other magicless comment that would ruin our morning.

  "Why don't you join me while I go turn in my uniform?" I asked instead, shifting gears again. I made my way to the closet to pick out an outfit while she picked herself off the floor.

  "You're quitting?"

  "Hmm. You haven't heard Lillian's newest plan?" I idly asked her. Of course, she didn't know. I just found out last night. "She's arranging a Meet and Greet with available men and women to try and find me a suitor."

  "So, you're accepting?" I hated how excited she sounded at the prospect. Biting my lip, I reminded myself that I loved my best friend, and everyone was different.

  "No, I'm changing the game. I've got a plan." I reassured her. A plan that meant I would need more time studying and less working. I wasn't going to spend my life working in retail, anyway; so, the loss of a job wasn't a huge concession.

  "Thanks for the offer, but I need to get back to Thomas. He's applying for Advancement today." She sounded proud and she should be. Her husband was a very hard worker and would go far in the witching community.

  "Meet up with me later? I'm going to swing by the library around two today and pick up some materials for research." I heard a noise that sounded like an agreement before the door closed, signaling her departure.

  "Love you, too!" I shouted to the empty room and smiled, knowing that she got scatterbrained about her husband. The mention of her needing to go home to him probably made her realize something else small, like forgetting to iron his shirt, and she immediately left to go do that. Jess was a very doting wife, and the two of them were good for each other.

  I had nothing against love and marriage, I just didn't want it to be the deciding f
actor on me keeping something that was rightfully mine. I was born with magic and that is where it belonged, inside of me. Sadly, the truth of the matter was that if I didn't marry and bind my magic with another person within a month, then it would be taken away from me.

  All witches were given twenty-five years to find a soul-bound, a person whom they wished to spend the rest of their life with and seal their magic to. The soul-bond was unbreakable, except through death. At which point, the surviving bonded would continue to live with the bound part of his/her magic until their time ended as well.

  In school, the soul-bond was romanticized as the ultimate experience between two beings in which their souls were tethered together. A real-life soulmate. Two people in love, who would always be there for one another. Except, I had been witness to the other end of that spectrum.

  Lillian wasn't the best soul-bound for my father, but she wasn't the worst pairing I had seen, either. Jess suffered a worse fate. I had only seen a handful of the interactions between her parents, but it was enough to know her father was abusive, and her mother was a drunk and a cheat. Somehow, the two managed to hide their hideous sides behind closed doors, and their transgressions against one another were never made public. Even today, Mrs. Cruce was probably waking up in someone else's bed, and Mr. Cruce's knuckles were probably split from the bruise he left on her side; yet, the rest of the world remained oblivious.

  It made sense that Jess jumped to be soul-bound quickly. At barely eighteen, she and Thomas moved in together and bonded. Now, four years later, the two were both madly in love and living their perfectly boring lives. It worked out for them, but it didn’t for everyone.

  A soul-bond didn’t mean love, it meant commitment and work, with no expiration date attached. I didn't want that.

  What if someone seemed perfect at first, but changed ten years later when they grew bored of me because I was fat from the three kids we made together? What if they said the perfect things, but were banging their boss every day at work? What if their dark side needed to come out, and I was the closest target, the only target who was always there?

  I guess the truth was, I was terrified of love. Because in the end, it seemed inevitable that love would hurt me. Maybe ten years from now, maybe fifty more, at some point I would be hurt by the one person who I was supposed to depend on.

  Who wanted a soul-bond that was everlasting, anyway?

  "Mary Vanderbilt, also known as Mary the Hag, was one of the first documented perpetrators of irrepressible magical phenomenon to cause alarm in the witching community. It is said that in a fit of rage, her heightened emotions caused her magic to grow uncontrollable, affecting more than four hundred people when she had only targeted two. Thus, the unexplainable "dancing plague" of 1518 began, in which people were found dancing themselves to death. The humans attempt at explaining this magical anomaly was documented and then covered by future generations."

  I closed the book and rubbed my temples after reading about Mary. I fully planned on reading each case that led up to the decision to make magical bonds compulsory in today's times, but so far, the cases were all based on the extreme emotional outbursts of terrible people. It wasn't like Mary the Hag exploded one day and magic was funneled out of her. She was purposely cursing another woman and letting her anger build on that curse to intentionally cause the most damage.

  Cursing someone to dance to death because they caught the attention of the man you fancied; Who does that? Sadly, I needed facts to persuade the council and, "That woman was just a bitch!" doesn't come across as very factual. I glanced at my opened journal and dismissed the need to write this event down in there. The rest of the pages actually had reasonable evidence of abuse of magic and the soul-bond. No reason to clutter my pages with events from the past when there were so many bonded today who were abusing our gifts.

  I left the five giant tomes from the library on my bed as I made my way downstairs for dinner. Family dinners are a requirement in my household, and as an unbound witch, I had no choice but to live here and do as my parents said. When I turned twenty-five, magic or not, I was getting my own place and no longer worrying about my family dynamics.

  My youngest brother, Arthur, and Lillian were already seated at the table when I arrived. My eyes briefly glanced over the empty chair where my brother Marcus would have sat had he not bonded and left all traces of our family behind. Father was still placing the food down, but Lillian sent a glare my way at my late arrival, regardless. I refrained from rolling my eyes her way and walked to the kitchen to help Father carry more food.

  "Evening, Cameron, did you get lost in a book?" Father asked with a twinkle in his eye. I smiled genuinely at him and grabbed the basket of rolls, so he didn't need to.

  "Something like that," I admitted. "How was your day?"

  "Wonderful. I heard back about my poetry submission, and it's being accepted in an anthology." I reflected his wide smile as we sat down, truly happy for him.

  Finally, something just for him that wasn't approved and monitored by Lillian. The best part was Father loved poetry, and he was good at it. I've kept the poem he wrote to me as a baby and gave me at eighteen when I graduated. It still made me cry today.

  "Blessings." Lillian grabbed hands, not waiting on us to finish the conversation we were having. A witch's meal is always blessed with a witch’s blessing in our home. One day, I was just going to dig into my meal. Unless I ate it all while I cooked it, I did have a habit of tasting the food.

  "How was your day, Mother?" I asked politely after the blessings were finished.

  "I heard about the library. It's unbecoming of you to seek an audience with a council member that way." She ignored my pleasantries and cut to the chase, somehow remaining properly poised as she cut into her seasoned chicken. Perfect little squares, of course.

  "I was actually at the library today for research. I simply wanted to stop in and speak to Mrs. Birch while I was there." I corrected her and stabbed my chicken, lifting the whole piece to take a bite. She winced at my actions but otherwise remained unaffected.

  "So, you chose to speak with her on her views regarding soul-bonds and the necessity of them? It seems like an odd coincidence that you were informed of your upcoming life changes within this household just last night, and today you attempt to create discord among council members. I find your actions petty, Cameron Leanne. At her place of work--"

  "You have given me no choice but to speak to the rest of the council members behind your back!" I interrupted her. "You refuse to listen to me, refuse to grant me an audience amongst the full council, refuse any type of reason in this situation."

  "Manners." Lillian scolded with a glare. She waited for me to drop my gaze before continuing. "My reasoning is sound. You will not change a tradition that protects everyone because of your commitment issues. Grow up, Cameron. In a month’s time, you will be out of my house one way or the other, and the world will not be nearly as kind or forgiving as I have. Drop your childish fantasies and bond if you wish to keep your magic." She spoke in an unyielding tone, and I knew to drop the argument.

  What argument? This was a one-sided debate with a rule book named Lillian Leanne Richardson. The woman was a council member first and foremost, a mother and wife second. She took a perfect bite of her perfectly cut chicken and chewed in a perfectly acceptable manner as my father asked my brother about his day. I tuned out of the conversation until I saw everyone start leaving the table from the corner of my eye.

  "You should just listen to her," Arthur spoke up from the otherwise empty table. I eyed my younger brother, seventeen and the youngest of us three. I'd noticed more and more that his shoulders remained drooped in our mother’s presence, and he made himself as invisible as he could most days. Marcus used to constantly seek our mother's attention and for quite some time I thought Arthur would be the same. Our family was broken.

  "What do you want, Arthur? What is it you truly want in life above all else? Because me? I want happiness. I won't b
ecome them; I won't become any of this." I gestured around at the grand home we lived in. Being a member of the top tier in the witching world had more than its share of perks. "I'm going to be who I want to become, one way or another. I'll fight for that right. I hope you do, too, one day." I added the last part, not knowing if he would listen to my advice. How could I know what he would do or become when I knew so little about him? As long as he and Marcus wished to be closer to Lillian, they continued to become further from me. And now Marcus was gone, what would Arthur do?

  Our family was broken, and I blamed the soul-bond that made Lillian a permanent fixture in our lives.

  I would not become like them.

  Chapter 2

  "You look beautiful," Jess gushed like the romantic she was.

  I smoothed down my plain, boring, deep green, high-necked dress that fell just below my knees. My red hair was smoothed to perfection, and my minimal makeup was flawless. I even chose to forgo the striped stockings that I wore with almost everything. I looked like a Richardson. Lillian would approve.

  "Thanks, Jess. Wish me luck?" I asked and stuck out my hand.

  She rolled her eyes before fluttering her fingertips against mine and releasing some of her magic. The glowing magic tendrils danced between our hands for a second before fizzling out. When we were seven and nine, that was the coolest thing in the world. Now, I thought the coolest thing about having magic was cleaning without touching things.