Chapter 2: Just a Few Questions

"A witch?" I asked, my voice heavy with disbelief. "Like in Harry Pot-"

Imogen winced and held up a hand. "Sorry," she interrupted. "The older witches really hate it when we make comparisons to media. Just... maybe don't do that. Moving forward, I mean. But yeah, a bit like that book series. Well, not really. There are quite a few differences, but that main concept is pretty accurate. Magic is real, we hide it from the majority of the world, only a few people can do it."

"Okay. Okay." I took a deep breath. "And you think I can do it."

"Can you see this?" Imogen drew her finger in a circle on our table. Where it passed over the wood, a faint blue glow remained. I stared.

"Yeah, I can see that pretty clearly." I said.

Imogen gave me another beautiful smile. I might have been distracted by it, if my brain wasn't broken by the implications of what she was telling me. "Then you're a witch, Ophelia. That's the first degree of magic right there."

"Degree?" I asked, my voice cracking a little higher than I wanted it to.

"Don't worry about it." Imogen shook her head. "There are a lot of terms, you'll learn them soon enough. I don't want to overwhelm you, what matters is this: you're a witch. I'm a witch. When you're feeling ready, I want to take you to a place where there are other witches, so you can learn more about what that means."

Simplifying matters helped a bit. "You seem very good at this explaining thing," I observed.

"I practiced." Imogen smiled. "They wanted me to make sure you weren't scared away before we had the chance to explain."

Something clicked in my head. "You practiced... you came here to get... for me?" I asked, incredibly eloquently and definitely without any nervous stammering at all.

"Yeah. We've known you were here for about a month." Imogen said.

She had come here to find me. And I'd been leering at her from the other side of a coffeeshop like an idiot. Oh, if only there was a hole I could crawl into and die of embarrassment in. This wasn't a conversation between two single women who were attracted to each other, it was between a recruiter and a potential employee.

I felt like an idiot. Frustrated with myself, I could feel my temper rising. I found refuge from my uncertainty in my anger, and leaned into it. I didn't like the idea of some random cult following me around and sending their most attractive member to wait for me in a coffeeshop. That was more than a little bit creepy.

"Will you come home with me?" Imogen asked, apparently not aware of the concept of innuendo. "My mother can explain things in more detail. She's our leader."

"Where does a group of witches call home?" I asked.

"Downtown," Imogen said. "Sort of. We can take the subway, if you're feeling ready to go."

"Sure." I sounded more confident than I felt.

Outside, the night was cold and windy. I shrank into my hoodie and wondered at Imogen's lack of sleeves. She didn't even move to put her jacket on, instead hooking it on one finger over her shoulder.

Was that magic somehow? A spell to keep you warm and cozy on cold nights sure would be wonderful. Then again, so would having a tall butch girlfriend wrap her arms around you. Maybe Imogen was single. Maybe she was into women. Maybe after I realized being a witch was super cool we could get together.

I shook my head. Three maybes. Don't assume stupid things.

A shadow slipped from the space between two buildings and padded quickly into step with Imogen. She was a tabby cat, barely the size of a soccer ball, and had silver eyes eerily similar to Imogen's own. I looked between the two of them pointedly.

"My familiar," Imogen explained quickly. "Aurelia. She's very sweet, I promise."

I crouched down to give the cat a scratch behind her ears. She purred and rubbed her face into my hand.

"That's not good."

"It's not?" I pulled my hand back and looked up at Imogen, but she wasn't watching me. I followed her gaze to the end of the block, where smoke was billowing from the subway entrance. Men in hard hats and reflector vests were gathered around it, and caution tape kept a small crowd of onlookers at bay.

"Was there a fire?" I asked.

Imogen frowned. "There must have been. But that means the subway is out."

"How far is it?" I asked. "Could we walk?"

"Yeah..." Imogen bit her lip. For someone so physically imposing, she looked very anxious. "It's not that far. We'd be going through... never mind. It'll be fine. It's this way."

She set off at a brisk pace, and I hurried to catch up with her. "The way you said that made it seem like everything isn't going to be fine." I said. "Could you tell me why?"

"You don't need to worry about it."

Fun fact about me: you should never, ever tell me what to do.

"What is it?" There was an edge to my tone now. I tried to keep it under control.

"Some of the witches who live in this area..." --Imogen answered, but made no other sign to suggest she had noticed the change in my attitude-- "They don't like my family very much. Not that they would ever try anything, there are rules preventing us from fighting one another. But it would be better if we could get through quickly all the same."

"Yeah. Sure." I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Witch gangs. Don't want to get jumped, right?"

Imogen didn't answer me. Her silence spoke volumes.