“So, what’s this case that’s been eating up your time?”

 

Thomas and I were sitting at a table and enjoying some well-earned coffee at the Glowing Ember, the metro area’s premiere coffee shop/bookstore for the magically inclined. As the municipal liaison to the supernatural community, Thomas and I worked together fairly frequently, and his office regularly brought me in as a consultant. I definitely appreciated the extra work, since being a small town Cunning Woman wasn’t exactly the path to riches. At the end of the week we’d get together and talk shop over coffee. It had become a neat little tradition.

“Oh jeez,” he said and rolled his eyes. “Well, I can’t say too much, but the gist of it is that some guy old enough to be my dad found out that his daughter’s high school boyfriend from a decade ago took her virginity, and was so pissed he decided to curse him.”

“Holy Mother, talk about red flags,” I said.

“Oh, it gets better,” said Thomas. “He specifically decided he was going to steal the ex-boyfriend’s youth, for some reason.”

“But-but you can’t just steal someone’s youth! Magic has limits, you can’t just do that!” I said, flabbergasted.

Thomas gave me a tired look. “Oh yeah, I know, but this guy keeps trying. Starts shopping around for a magic worker who will craft the hex for him, but of course no one will take it.”

 

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Right, not only is it curse-work, but also you couldn’t do that even if you wanted to.”

 

Thomas nodded, half-smiling, half grimacing. “Anyway, he finally finds a Braucher who’s sketchy enough to do it. Writes him a Himmelsbrief-though I think our genius here may have actually dictated it. It’s not even an incantation, it’s a literal letter. Talking about how his daughter was dishonored, paying back sevenfold, bunch of Bible quotes justifying it, just absolutely nuts. And then he mails it to the ex.”

 

“And it doesn’t work,” I responded.

Thomas let out a mirthless laugh. “Nope! So then he lodges a bunch of complaints to my office about how this Braucher is a fraud, and is suing the Braucher in civil court. But malicious cursing is also, ya know, technically illegal, even if it’s a dumbass curse, so now we’re trying to figure out if we need to press charges. It’s a mess.”

Thomas signed and took a long drink  from his mug. “Shit like this makes me glad that my potential in-laws are normal,”  he said.

“Shit like this makes me glad I’m single,” I replied.

 

“Oh yeah, speaking of, last week you said you had a date planned. How’d it go?”

 

I sighed. “Turns out he was a Rationalist, which I only just barely tolerate. And then he said he’d figured out how to explain magic with quantum mechanics, using crystals somehow, and he lived with a bunch of other guys, and I’m pretty sure it’s a cult.”

“Hoo boy,” said Thomas.

 

“Yeah, he invited me back to the group house to see the “crystal matrix” they’d built, so that’s when I bailed.”

 

“Sorry to hear that,” he said.

 

“Eh, still better than the magical racist,” I replied nonchalantly.

“The what?” Thomas asked incredulously.

 

“Yeah, he believed that certain bloodlines were better at magic, and that it was an inborn ability.” As casual as I was being about it, it was a bit horrifying, if utterly ridiculous.

 

“You…you can literally check out a book from the library on how to do magic. Anyone can do it if they’ve got the patience,” Thomas said with an equal mix of confusion and disdain.

Yeah, I know, but he didn’t think so. And he got reeeeeeaal excited when he found out I was ‘pure Fitzgerald stock.’” I shuddered at the memory.

 

“Oh, that’s creepy,” said Thomas with disgust.

 

“Yep, that one ended real quick.” I sighed again. “And before that was the astrology girl who wanted me to bolster her business….It just feels like people aren’t actually interested in me, they’re only interested in my skills and talents. It’s so frustrating. I want someone  to want me for me, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t know what else to tell you. Other than, I’m sure the right guy for you is out there somewhere.”

 

“Or girl,” I corrected.

 

“Yeah, or girl,” he said, and we both took  long sips from our mugs. Then Thomas looked at me conspiratively. “Speaking of, don’t look, but a really cute girl just walked in. I don’t recognize her, so maybe she’s new in town? You should go talk to her.”

“What? No, come on, that’s ridiculous.”

 

“You don’t make 100% of the shots you don’t take,” Thomas said.

“But I don’t even know if she’s into girls!” I protested. 

 

“Only one way to find out,” he said with a smirk. And with that he strolled over to the coffee bar. I blushed and buried my face in my work bag. I couldn’t imagine having the sort of confidence Thomas had, but then again I wasn’t 22 anymore. 

 

I still hadn’t decided if I was mad at Thomas for wingmaning for me or grateful when he came back with a young woman. She was in many ways my opposite-shorter than me by a good couple inches, slender where I was curvy, with olive, almost dark skin, brown eyes, and black curly hair in contrast to my blindingly pale complexion, green eyes, and annoyingly flat strawberry blonde locks. She was quite cute, with a brilliant smile. I stood up, trying to keep my cool, as Thomas introduced us. 

 

“Kat, this is Agata, Agata, this is Kathleen Fitzgerald. She’s a Cunning Woman over in Ogdenville, about an hour or so outside the city. Kat, Agata just moved here from Chicago  for a summer program at the university.”

 

I shook her hand, trying not to avert my eyes. Dang, she was cute. “Kat, I’ve actually heard about you and Thomas,” she said brightly.

 

“What, really?” I said in mild disbelief. 

 

“Yeah, when you guys took down that Cockatrice a couple months back. It was all over the net. I can’t imagine how scary it was, those things are terrifying. I’m amazed you even managed to figure out what it was, I never would have guessed.” She smiled, dazzling me as she talked.

 

“T-thanks,” I said, wanting to hide my work bag again. I had no idea we were famous in the supernatural community, and was not remotely prepared for it.  “What brings you to the Ember? Are you a practitioner?” I managed to stammer out.

 

“Yeah, I’m from a family of magicians in Southern Italy. First gen here, my parents immigrated.”

 

“Oh, you’re a Benedetta!” I said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

 

“Eh, mostly, though I’m not quite a orthodox as them. I’m more of a general healer and fixer.”

 

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, and I hope you like our city,” I said. “Though I don’t know if our Italian food will be up to par.”

 

“Hah, that’s alright, I do pretty much all my cooking at home, anyway.”

 

“Man, that sounds delicious,” I replied.

 

“I’d love to have you over for dinner,” she said, catching me off guard.

 

“What? No, I couldn’t-” but Thomas cut me off. 

 

“Aww, Kat, you’re always complaining about how you don’t have time to cook or go out. Let the nice lady cook you dinner.” 

 

Shut up, Thomas, I muttered under my breath. Meanwhile my face got hot, and I had no doubt it was a brilliant shade of crimson.

 

“It’s no big deal,” said Agata, smiling at me. “I’d love to meet people in the area. Besides, it’s impossible to cook just a single serving of Sicilian food anyway. When are you free? Would Monday night work?”

 

“Y-yeah, that’d be great,” I stammered. “Great, I look forward to it!” she said, and then gave me her number. I blushed again, wanting to climb into my own skin and hide.

 

“See you later,” Agata said brightly, and then she wandered off to chat with more people. As she went, I watched her intently. Dang, even her butt’s cuter than mine. Also, did I just get asked out on a date?

 

“You can thank me later,” said Thomas, with a smug grin. 

 

“Hey, we don’t know if that was a date, best not to assume-” I said.

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s a date,” said Thomas. “And I’m pretty sure she was checking you out. Relax, breath deep, you got this.”

 

Holy shit

 

****

I had trouble focusing all day Monday-thankfully, none of my clients were too demanding. I made the run into the city and showed up at Agata’s apartment. In my hands I had a bottlehad bottle of wine I’d brought as a gift, but I was so sweaty I was afraid I was going to drop it. My stomach did somersaults as I knocked on the door.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, Agata opened the door and welcomed me in. “Kat, I’m so glad you could make it!” she said effusively. 

 

I blushed again.”T-thanks,” I stuttered, “me too.”

 

 Agata’s apartment was small, but warm and inviting. There were still boxes scattered about-she’d clearly just moved in.It smelled heavenly, though. She’d clearly been cooking up a storm.

 

“Huh, I’m surprised you don’t have any crosses or devotional images up yet,” I said, observing her bare walls.

 

“Oh yeah, I left all my good ones back in Chicago, didn’t want to risk them in the move,” she said with a smile. “I’ve got a few still packed away, but I may just get more. Can’t really have too many of them anyway, you know?”

 

“Oh yeah, definitely,” I replied, though I wasn’t sure if that was actually true. “Well, I’m pretty sure I might just know of a place that sells them,” I said with a knowing smile, trying  so hard to be smooth.

 

She laughed, a laugh that sounded like the tinkling of icicles on a bright winter morning. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to check it out.”

 

The dinner, sure enough, was delicious. It was definitely Italian, but it also featured a lot of food I wasn’t familiar with. My favorite was some sort of spreadable sausage pate, whose name I couldn’t pronounce.  And there was so much of it. No wonder she’d invited me over. As we ate, we chatted. Agata told me about growing up in a family with a proud magical heritage, and how her skills and knowledge had been passed down from her mother, and her grandmother before her, and so on. I had nothing remotely comparable (other than a vague family connection to the “Wizard Earl” Fitzgerald), so I talked about studying abroad in the UK and finding my niche as a business woman here. 

 

Agata was a much smoother conversationalist than I was-maybe she didn’t have the same case of nerves I did. Or maybe Thomas was wrong, and this wasn’t really a date, just two new friends get to know each other. My anxiety kept surging up, and I was getting butterflies in my stomach, even in spite of the tasty food I was eating. 

 

On the other hand, she kept smiling at me, occasionally brushing her hand against mine, or on my shoulder. It didn’t hurt that she was exceptionally charming, gregarious, and easy to talk to, with a laugh like the ringing of silver bells. And man, that smile-it could knock a man off a bicycle. 

 

 At one point, I clumsily knocked over my wine glass, spilling it all over the table. “I’m so, so sorry, I can’t believe I did that, let me clean it up,” I sputtered out, and I grabbed a towel and started wiping up the mess. Agata came around behind me and put one hand on my shoulder, and put othe other on my outstretched hand to help me clean up. “Heh, you’re lucky I’m fond of redheads,”she joked, her head inches away from mine, her breath tickling my cheek.  Holy shit.  Ok, she has got to be flirting with me. Unless this is just how Italians are?

 

We moved onto dessert-some sort of soft flakey pastry drizzled with lemon syrup. Inevitably, we started talking shop, despite my efforts to stay off the topic. Mostly we just traded stories about our wackiest clients, which is always good for a laugh, and it did help me relax a bit. I even started to let myself enjoy the evening.

 

 I somehow managed to get the topic off work-otherwise we’d be swapping tales all night. With unexpected courage and vulnerability-perhaps the wine was helping, I started talking about my personal life, issuing the same laments to her about dating that I had to Thomas.

 

“Yeah, it’s rough,” she said sympathetically. “I haven’t even really been dating anymore, it’s just been so frustrating. It doesn’t help that the Italian community back home is so close knit, everyone knows everyone else.”

 

“Oof, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, even though I was secretly thrilled.

 

“Thanks. I’ve tried branching outside the community, even dating someone non-magical. Though that’s got its own problems.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve tried it, and it can be nice, they’ve got no assumptions about the job, but I have to explain so much, it’s tiring. Like, ‘why am I hanging a colander by the door,’ or ‘what are those weird spikey cakes for and why can’t I eat them?’” I replied. “On and on.”

 

“Yeah, it’s a pain,” she said. “And the job keeps you so busy, so then they feel neglected…I’ve actually been thinking of dating another practitioner, but one outside my tradition, you know? Someone who’s already established and doesn’t need my help.” She looked at me slyly. “You know anyone around her who might fit that bill?”

 

“Uh, I, uh, might, yeah.” I managed to croak out. At this point I was thoroughly smitten, though I couldn’t have exactly told you why. She was just so damn alluring. And suddenly she was leaning in toward me.

 

“Well, uh, it’s getting late,” I said, totally unsure of how to continue. Should I just leave? Try to make a move? Damnit, I’m going to blow this, aren’t I. I was already getting mad at myself.

“Mmm, yeah, I can make you some espresso if you’d like,” said Agata. 

 

“Oh, no thanks, if I drink it now I’ll be up all night,” I said.

 

“Well, then I better make you some,” Agata said with a knowing smile.

 

And then she leaned in and kissed me.

 

Holy shit.

 

****

The next few weeks were some of the happiest for me in years. Part of it was the fact that I was twitterpated with Agata, but part of it was also just that I had someone I could have fun with. We didn’t do anything too crazy, just mostly stereotypically cute couple stuff, which it turned out I’d desperately missed. We went on movie dates, had dinner together, wandered around the city, even went dancing at the gay club downtown, something I hadn’t done since my since my university days. And it was nice just to have a reason to go out. Between being a homebody and a workaholic, I spent more time cooped up by myself, and Agata was great at dragging me out. I was even starting to pick up some Italian from her.

 

It wasn’t all easy-between my work schedule and her class schedule, we only saw each other a few times a week at most. There was also the problem that the summer would eventually end, and she’d have to go back home. But I made a point of not worrying about that, and just enjoying the time we had together. When we were out together, or just hanging out at one of our places, we didn’t talk about that, or work, or school. What’s the point of such rendezvous if not to escape your responsibilities, however temporarily?

 

I found myself grinning just thinking about her as I waited for Thomas at our usual Friday evening coffee. I hadn’t seen him in a week or two, and felt a little bad about it. Then again, he regularly left town to spend time with his girlfriend out of state, so I couldn’t feel too neglectful. As he strolled up, he looked me over and said “you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this gleeful.”

 

“Nah, probably not,” I replied with a grin. 

 

“Glad to see it’s still going well,” he said.

 

“You better, this was all your fault,” I said with a laugh.

 

“Guilty as charged,” he replied. “Speaking of, why aren’t you off with your lady friend? It’s a Friday night.”

 

“Oh, Agata’s got some project due or something. Her schedule is pretty wacky, she’s usually not available Thursdays or Fridays, and she has a lot of night classes. And sometimes she’ll just cancel at the last minute, or drop off the grid. It’s a bit frustrating, honestly. I’d forgotten what it was like to be in school.

 

“Well, that’s what you get for robbing the cradle,” Thomas laughed.

 

I frowned in mock-shame. “She’s not that younger than me!” I protested.

 

“How old is she, anyway?” asked Thomas.

 

“22, 23, I think?” I said, unsure. “Old enough to drink, at any rate.” To be honest, I didn’t actually know. I realized there was a lot I didn’t know about Agata.

 

“Well, that’s good enough for me,” laughed Thomas. 

 

“Glad I have your seal of approval,” I said.“It is kind of annoying, though. I wish she’d at least give me more warning before she disappears.”

 

“Maybe she’s part of a secret society fighting evil,” said Thomas with a smirk. “Like those white witches in Northern Italy--what are they called, the Good Walkers or something?”

 

“Yeah,” I replied, “the Benandanti. They fly around at night, fight bad witches, get into brawls with them, protect crops, that sort of thing.” It was possible that Agata was part of the Benadanti, and I could see her flying through the air, wielding an enchanted staff, taking part in their night battles against malevolent Streghe. But membership was rare, and limited, not to mention focused in the north of Italy, not Sicily. Still, the thought of her doing battle was kinda hot, I had to admit. I could dream.

 

“Or maybe she’s one of the Hounds of God!” said Thomas, getting increasingly animated, as he did when he got on a roll.

 

I laughed. “No, I’m pretty sure I’d notice if she was a werewolf. The hair would be everywhere, believe me.”

 

Still, I did wonder. But I did my best to push it out of my mind. No worries; whatever she was up to, I was sure it was utterly mundane.

 

***

A few weeks later, I was again over at Agata’s place. We spent most of our nights together-for whatever reason, my cat familiar Graymalkin hated Agata. Probably just jealous that I was giving attention to someone else for once. Her little black cat Gugghiermu, on the other hand, adored me. As we were snuggled up in bed, her cat by my side, she looked deeply into my eyes and said “Kat, there’s something I want to do with you.”

 

“Oh?,” I said, my eyebrows arched suggestively, but Agata looked solemn and serious. Uh oh, I thought.

 

“I want to take you to see my homeland,” she said, without a trace of humor. 

“What, like go see Italy? That’d be really cool, maybe this summer? If I save up I might be able to scrape together enough to buy a ticket-” but she cut me off.

 

“No,” she said. “Next week. I want you to fly with me.”

 

I looked at her in puzzlement, then surprise. “You mean fly? Like, actually fly?” I said, putting the pieces together. “As in flying ointment?” Maybe Thomas was right, and she really was one of the Benandanti. I thought of asking, but bit my tongue. Surely, all would be revealed. 

 

“Yeah,” said Agata, looking nervous. “I know it seems like a lot, but-”

 

“No, I’m in. This sounds amazing. When do you want to go?” 

 

“Next Thursday, it’s an Ember Day.” 

 

“Sounds like a date, then,” I said, already excited for the trip.

 

***

 

The following Monday Thomas dropped by my office to pick up some herbs, and we got to chatting. Of course I couldn’t help myself, and told him about our upcoming date. “Is that safe?” he asked skeptically.

 

“Oh yeah,” I said casually. “I’ve actually used flying ointment before. When I was studying abroad I spent a weekend with a coven of witches in The Netherlands, and we did the whole flying ointment ritual. Stripped naked, danced around a sacred fire, covered ourselves in this green goo, the whole thing.”

 

“Did it work?” asked Thomas, still looking unconvinced.

 

“Yeah, actually, I think,” I replied, reminiscing. “I flew back across the Channel and over England, and landed in Scotland. Then I turned into a rabbit and ran through the moors until I came to a witches revel, turned back into a human, and danced the rest of the night. Before dawn I flew back to The Netherlands.”

 

“Huh,” said Thomas, looking nonplussed at this point.

 

“Mind you, we traveled in spirit, and left our physical bodies behind. Also, I’m not exactly sure what was in the ointment, so it’s possible we were just tripping balls all night.”

 

“Ah, ok, now that makes sense,” said Thomas, looking somewhat relieved. “Well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound too bad.”

 

“Yeah, basically we hang out at her place, put some weird skin cream on, and hallucinate for six or eight hours. I’ve had worse dates,” I said. 

 

Thomas paused thoughtfully. “Is she planning on skipping class?” he asked. 

 

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said. I hadn’t really thought about it. “I guess this means a lot to her. Just as well, I’ll probably have to take part of Friday off to recover. Thankfully I’m appointment only that day, so I can just shuffle them around.”

 

***

Thursday came sooner than I was expecting. I wrapped up my last few appointments, closed up the office, and headed straight to Agata’s place in the city. I was nervous again, but also excited. This was going to be a new experience.

 

She had another fantastic dinner waiting for me-meatless, of course, as I was trying to observe the Ember Days. We couldn’t actually conduct the ritual until the Witching Hour, but we were able to keep ourselves, uh, entertained and pass the time until it came. 

 

Finally, the church bells down the street tolled midnight, and we slipped out of bed and went into her living room. Agata pulled a plain ceramic bowl out of the fridge and placed it on the coffee table, where we could both reach it. As I hadn’t bother getting dressed again, I immediately stuck my hand in and scooped some of the ointment up. It was completely different from the ointment I had used in the Netherlands. That stuff was a dark green paste that had smelled earthy and verdant. This ointment was a reddish brown sticky grease that smelled rank. 

 

Ugh, this is gross. I hope it doesn’t take me too much out of the experience. Still, Agata was quickly applying it to herself, rubbing it over her body with her hands, so I steeled myself and started spreading it over my skin. I made particularly sure to get it under my arms, my breasts, on my thighs, and on my face, as I vaguely recalled those were the parts where it was most effective. 

 

“Do I want to know what’s in this?” I asked, wrinkling my nose from the odor. 

“No, not really,” said Agata apologetically. “Sorry about the smell. Among other things it’s got bat’s blood in it. Sympathetic magic, you know?”

 

I nodded my head. I was really wondering how this stuff was going to work, or even if it would work. Once we were done applying the stuff, Agata walked over to her living room window and opened it. Then she plucked a broom off the wall, where it had been mounted. It was an old-fashioned one, made of a gnarled length of a smoothed down tree limb, with real plant bristles tied to the bottom.I thought it was just decorative, but apparently not.

 

“A broom?” I asked, chuckling to myself. “That’s definitely old school.”

 

“Hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Agata said with a sly smile. She rubbed the ointment all over the broom, muttered an incantation in Italian, and then held it out at waist level, and let go of it. To my amazement, it hung in the air, levitating. 

 

“Holy shit,” I gasped. “It’s-it’s-we’re-we’re actually going to fly?” I stuttered.

 

Agata smiled at me. “Of course? How else do you think we were going to get to Benevento?”

 

She climbed astride the broom. It bobbed a little as she settled on it, but remained floating. She grabbed my hand and  pulled me on, sitting me behind her. I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around her waist. Agata kicked off, and the broom rose further into the air. With some maneuvering and ducking on our part, we were able to fit through the window. It was a warm evening in late May, so I was comfortable even though I was unclothed. Suddenly, the broom shot up into the air, climbing above the scattered clouds and out of the city lights. 

 

My eyes were wide and my heart was pounding. We were flying, we were really flying! Actually, physically flying! Even if we didn’t go anywhere, this was more than enough.

 

But Agata obviously had a destination, for we were soon heading off due east at incredible, and then impossible speeds. I saw the lights of cities pass underneath us in the blink of an eye, and we passed a jetliner like it was standing still. Soon, there was nothing but ocean below. At such heights and such speeds, I should have been at the very least freezing cold, but all I could feel was the warmth of Agata’s body against my own.

 

After what seemed like about an hour, I started seeing lights again. Soon we were passing over shorelines and mountains and islands, until Agata put us into a dive. We flew back down through the clouds, skimming along the landscape, passing over vineyards and villas and churches. We navigated over hills and low mountains before flying along a river valley, toward a great and ancient looking city. We slowed before we approached, and pull off the river onto the shore, toward a meadow. At the center of it was a massive sprawling tree in full leaf that towered over the plain. Its branches were lit up from within, and around it were dozens of dancing lights. The broom came to a stop and lowered to the ground. We had arrived. 

 

I took in the sights. “Huh,” I said, confused. “Uh, I thought we’d go see your hometown or something.” Agata just laughed. “Oh, Palermo? Maybe someday, but it was important that you see this first.” “Where are we, then?” I asked, suddenly worried. “This, Kat,” said Agata with authority, “is the Great Walnut Tree of Benevento.”

 

We walked under the eves of the tree. It was clear a wild party was going on-there were candles floating in the branches, the skirling sound of wild pipers playing, and tables loaded with all kinds of food. The guests seemed to mostly be beautiful young men and women, all naked like us-guess modesty wasn’t a huge concern. At the center of the party were two figures upon  thrones, a young man with red hair and a regal looking woman. Both of them were incredibly, inhumanly gorgeous. I knew right away they weren’t mere mortals-I was in the presence of Fair Folk. Around them flitted other equally otherworldly beings, beautiful fairies and goat legged faun like creatures. As enchanting as it was, my stomach filled with dread. This wasn’t what I’d planned for, and I didn’t like it one bit. Besides, things rarely went well for mortals intruding on Fairy revels.

 

Agata strolled up to a table and picked up a fine silver goblet and filled it with wine, as well as some delicious looking pastries. She offered one to me, but even as an invited guest, I was wary of what looked like Fairy Food. “No thanks, I said, trying to hide my unease. “I’m still full from dinner, maybe later.” Agata shrugged. 

 

After she’d finished her snacks she took me by the and led me through the crowd. Figures danced around a fire, in circles and in rows, while others mingled around the tree itself, or stationed themselves next to the thrones. As Agata moved through the crowd, she bowed towards the thrones, and then greeted her fellow attendees. 

 

One of them, a dark haired young man with the body of an underwear model, made a point of moving toward. When he reached her, she greeted him with a passionate embrace, and to my shock, an even more passionate kiss. Then, as I watched in horror, he reached down and squeezed her ass.

 

I grabbed Agata’s arm and pulled her toward me. “Agata, what the hell!” I said forcefully, confusion and anger building. “Oh, how rude of me,” said Agata with that same sly smile. “Would you like to join us?”

 

“No! Well, maybe, but we need to negotiate this first! I wasn’t expecting this! We need to talk about it!” I said, my voice rising.

 

“Kat, relax, if you don’t want to join us, that’s fine, there’s plenty of other men here. Or, if you’re not feeling that, lots of women too,” said Agata, ignoring my anger and distress.

 

“That’s not the point! I thought we were going to go fly around Sicily, not go to a swinger’s party!”

 

Agata looked at me, almost disappointed. “Kat, look around you. It’s so much more than that. Youth, beauty, plenty, decadence, and extravagance.” She took a step toward me, but kept her other hand on her would be paramour, stroking his skin. It revolted me. “And even beyond that. Wealth. Riches. Power. Knowledge,” she said, emphasizing the last word. She knew my weaknesses.

 

Still, I knew she was selling me something. “But…?” I asked, letting the word hang in the air. “All you need to do is go on your knees before our King and Queen, and pledge your allegiance to them, to the Doñas de fuera, and to Signora Oriente. And you must renounce your worship of God and the Virgin.”

 

And there it is, I thought. “What? No!” I said indignantly. So this was her secret. She was a Strega, a witch. 

 

“What, it’s no big deal,” said Agata nonchalantly. “You’re not even Catholic.”

 

“No, Agata, I’m not risking my immortal soul for your weird fairy sex cult,” I said, with conviction.

 

“You make it such a big fuss, Kat,” said Agata in an unsettlingly soothing voice. “It’s not so different from Benedicaria, or what you do. The only difference is who you pray to.”

 

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” I said angrily. She was playing me the fool; I knew what went into Strega potions. “What was in that flying ointment, huh? Corpse fat? Virgin’s blood? Ground up babies?”

 

Agata looked at me cooly. “Does it really matter?” she said.

 

“YES! Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you?” I shouted, my anger building.

 

“Well, some sacrifices had to be made,” she said with a smile. The pit in my stomach turned into full-fledged nausea, knowing what I’d put on my body. I briefly wondered if I’d ever feel clean again.

 

“No, Agata, it’s not the same,” I said, trying to keep my anger under control. “I gain my power through my faith in God and the Saints. I’m not sacrificing that for your hideous rites. I’ll never be a Strega like you.” I spat out the word with as much disdain as I could muster.

 

“Aw, but Kat, you’re so smart and so talented, and so skilled, it wouldn’t take you any time at all. That’s why I sought you out,” said Agata, trying to sound caring.

 

“WHAT?!” I shouted, my anger boiled into fury. “What the fuck Agata! First you’re a witch, then you cover me with God knows what salve, and now it turns out you were just using me for my magic?!” I screamed. “I thought you were the exception! I thought this was real!” I took some deep breaths. “Fuck this. Agata, if you actually care about me, take me home. Let’s get out of here.” 

 

I left the circle and walked toward the edge, grabbing the broom. As I did, the crowd followed me, and my anger was replaced by unease. The music had stopped. Agata looked at me with an expression of cool displeasure. My anger turned to fear, and I realized I was in over my head.

 

“I’m sorry Kat, but I can’t let you do that.” The crowd started to close in on me. I brandished the broom, though the effect was more pathetic than intimidating. If this were a movie, now is when I would throw a massive fireball, or shoot lighting out of my fingers. But it wasn’t a movie, and I was just a scared twenty-something folk healer, feeling very vulnerable and very much naked. I thought about making a run for it, but before I could, Agata strode forward and grabbed the end of the broom and tried to pull it out of my hands. This is it, I thought. O Holy Mother, get me out of here!.

 

 Just then, I heard a great clamor go up. “Il Benandanti!” cried voices around me, and dozens of figures dived from the air, armed with staves. Upon landing, they started raining blows down on the Streghe, driving them back. They had to come to fight the witches, as was their sacred duty. The crowd around me scattered, either seeking to tangle with the Benandanti  or to retreat from the fight. I took advantage of the confusion and yanked the broom out of Agata’s hands, then whacked her in the knee with it. She collapsed over to one side with a groan, and I took to my heels, passing through the skirmish, dodging blows and flying bodies. Finally I made it beyond the tumult, hopped on the broom, and whispered in my broken Italian “take me home.”

 

 The broom rose into the air. I had no idea if it would work, but at this point, I didn’t care if it dumped me in the Atlantic. Anywhere was better than here. The broom soared into the sky and picked up speed. Even though I’m sure the trip was about the same length going back, it seemed longer, and colder. I cried all the way there. 

 

Thankfully, the broom did as it was bid, and I inelegantly crashed through the window of Agata’s apartment and pancaked on her living room floor. With a moan, I picked myself up. I stumbled into the shower, and washed myself just enough to rinse off the horrid slime that covered me. I then broke her broom, hoping that would ground for her, for at least a little while. Then I fled into the night.

 

*** 

The next week or so I lived in a state of constant paranoia, ever fearful of Agata’s vengeance against me. I purchased a silver Cimaruta, a coral cornicello, and a number of  charms to ward off hexes from a real Benedetta, a lovely old lady named Fransceca who also lived in Chicago. It turns out neither she, nor anyone in her community had ever heard of Agata. I also asked Thomas and a couple of my other friends in the magical community to keep an eye on her apartment, but she never returned. A week later it was mysteriously emptied out, and back on the market. It was as if she had never been there at all.

 

After a month, I started to let my guard down. It looked like Agata’s wrath wasn’t coming back to haunt me. Still, I left the charms up. One day, I finally felt confident enough to go back to the Glowing Ember and treat myself to some coffee. As I sat there, drinking my latte and missing Agata’s espresso, a willowy brunette went to pull up the stool next to me. “Mind if I sit here?” she asked cheerfully. “Go right ahead,” I said, still somewhat morose. She sat down. “You ok?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a really bad breakup is all,” I said, and sighed.

 

“Oh yeah, I feel ya, that’s rough,” said the brunette, sounding sympathetic.

 

“Thanks. You know it goes. I thought she was good for me,” I said. “But it turns out she was a real witch.”