Lips of a Witch – Romance

This story was almost abandoned by ( but with some effort, editing, and collaboration, we’ve managed to build her initial idea out into a witchy little romance with a bit of a dark underbelly. We both hope you enjoy our Halloween collaboration as much as we enjoyed writing it!

Constructive criticism is always welcome and, as ever, any resemblance between people living or (un)dead and the characters below is purely coincidental.

Don’t get me wrong

He leaned against a large ad on the wall, staring at his phone while she sat on a nearby bench.

Her bank balance sat at a measly fifty cents with a pending charge of $22.50. Her check would clear on Thursday, but that would be about 12 hours too late to avoid paying out the extra $25 overdraft fee

His thumb hovered over the delete button, but he knew he couldn’t unsee the video of his fiancée laughing it up about how short a chain she had him on, while some bulky loser manhandled her on his bed. Not the loser’s bed, but his bed. The expensive bed he’d bought at his fiancée’s insistence even though she didn’t want to move in until they were married. He didn’t even know who sent him the video. Probably his grandmother.

She’d never liked Annabeth and seeing his fiancée with another man would make her wring her hands together in glee. But anonymous wasn’t her style. She would’ve sat him down across from her big desk and, while trying not to smile, said, “Darling, I know you liked the harpy, but she’s just after your money and I have proof. Pretty birds like to collect shiny things and you glimmer like no other.” He almost smiled at the thought. She had such a way of making every disappointment into a life lesson, but she was also usually right.

The girl leaned her head back and drew in a deep, ragged breath and that caught his attention. He looked over and glimpsed her eyes closing, causing a slight wrinkle at the corner as her lips pursed and brow furrowed. Her username was visible on the screen above the paltry balance with the pending charge. A 7-day pass for the subway given the merchant’s name and cost. He smiled and watched her a moment.

She’s cute.

He opened up his own banking app and quickly thumbed in her name, a quick amount and message before hitting send then put his phone in his pocket as the subway rolled into the station. Annabeth was after his money? Fine. He just cleaned out the debit account he gave her and sent every last penny to someone who needed it. That should send the message that he was done being the harpy’s ATM.

Her phone chirped and she glanced at it, thinking it was the overdraft fee hitting her account hours early. That would’ve been just her luck. Instead, she saw a message, “My bad choice is your lucky day,” and an option to accept a quick deposit between customers of the same institution. No need to wait for it to clear. Her trembling hand almost clicked to decline, the amount wasn’t insignificant cash – it was a little over five-hundred dollars – but she accepted and looked around.

An old man leaned against a cane at the far end of the bench, his phone was an ancient flip-style and hung off his belt in a holster she hadn’t seen since her dad’s in the early 00s. A woman fussed with a young boy whose eyes were glued to a brightly colored and animated screen. Three older men in business suits were chattering near a trash can, pretending they didn’t just toss an empty coke packet in the trash after not so subtly passing it around.

There was an older couple holding hands on a bench too far away to have seen her phone. A college-aged girl at the ticket machine, looking up and hopping nervously, tried to clear her transaction before the subway car rolled out of the station. Then, not too far from her, a handful of tech-types began crowding into the just-opened car in front of them. Nobody felt wrong. She might not be practicing these days, but she was always on guard. Pinpointing the kindhearted one usually didn’t take long, but there were so many emotions to run through they got lost in a jumble, disorienting her slightly as she stood up.

He didn’t make himself known, just quietly shuffled into the car with the tech-types, who were of a similar age as himself, and she followed behind, still looking around as others pushed her into the man in front of her. He groused and pushed back, causing her to lean to the side as she grabbed onto a pole near the doors opposite where she entered. The car was packed, and multiple people bustled into her, trying to push her away from the easiest place to grasp something, but she held firm in her place. At least, she did until the coked-up businessmen came into the car and surrounded her, holding the bar above her grip and pushing her into a tight spot near an older woman with a cane and a brown paper sack of groceries.

The older woman whopped one of the men lightly on the shin and dropped her head down to look over her glasses at him. “You push ‘er into my groceries and you’ll be payin’ for whatever gets broke.”

The guy sneered but moved to another bar nearby. He towered over the college student who’d barely made it into the car before the doors shut behind her. She looked nervous and one of the tech-types moved to another bar, freeing up the one he’d been standing at to go and talk to his buddies nearby. The girl rushed to grab it as the train jolted forward.

The no longer painfully broke girl smiled to the older woman, but the other just rolled her eyes and whopped the girl’s shin with her cane when she stepped a little too close for her comfort.

“Oww,” she muttered under her breath.

The old woman smiled and nodded to the younger woman, who was still trying to figure out who had sent her enough cash to buy groceries and cover the remaining part of her rent in the two-bedroom apartment she shared with two other girls, a dog, a cat, two guinea pigs, a bird, and the sometimes boyfriend of one of her roommates.

“You’re gonna get walked all over your whole life getting pushed around like that so easily. Take up space, push ’em back.” The older woman made a motion with her hand and the girl stepped back as much as she could. She exuded care and concern even as she appeared hardened to the world. The girl liked her and felt comfortable standing next to her.

She tried to take the woman’s advice, but she’d always found it easier to compress herself into a tighter spot than to push others out of her space. Still, while the older woman was watching, she felt the need to do just as she was told, and pushed back on the businessmen, asserting her space next to them while the subway jostled them. The sounds echoed weirdly to her, but it’d become a sort of comfort to focus on something other than the sound of electricity in the air and the miasma of bottom shelf whiskey and stale cigarettes surrounding the businessmen.

It often felt like people were watching her even when they weren’t, but she looked over her shoulder to the opposite corner of where she stood and saw one of the tech-types avert his eyes. She wondered how long he’d be on the subway with her. Had he been in that group that bustled onto the train with her? There were six stops before hers then she’d switch over to the commuter rail for the last hour home. Hopefully she’d figure out who sent her the money by then, it was getting easier to pinpoint as the train emptied.

At each stop, she glanced back, waiting for the tech-type to get off, but he remained. As her stop neared, he moved toward the doors, grasping the bar diagonal from hers. She looked him up and down.

He’s hot.

He had light brown scruffy hair and a neatly trimmed beard with reddish tones. She didn’t get a good look at his eyes before he looked away, but she thought they were blue, or maybe gray. He wasn’t in a suit, but he wasn’t in unkempt clothes either. Black jeans, a somewhat worn video game T-shirt under a partially buttoned blue long-sleeved shirt. There was a watch on his left wrist along with a dangling silver bracelet of some sort. A medic alert bracelet?

She maybe stared a little too long as he glanced back at her, and she found herself flustered; looking away and inadvertently staring at the crotch of the coked-up businessman she shared a bar with, who noticed and edged closer to her.

The subway train rocked roughly, and she let go of the bar just after the businessman had reached his hand toward her. She stumbled but righted herself as she dodged the man she’d deemed creepy from the moment he stood near her, and maneuvered toward the attractive tech-type.

She didn’t say anything. Just grabbed the bar beneath his hand and stood closer to him than she had the businessman. He didn’t say anything either. He also didn’t encroach on her space or do much more than take the occasional glance at her to see if she was still staring at him.

She wasn’t… at least not every time he looked. She was mostly looking at the floor and gripping the bar so tight her fingers were stark white. He was the one who sent the money. She could feel it. His heart rate increased as she moved to his bar, and he tapped his finger on his phone, it seemed instinctive. And, now, she could see the bracelet on his arm more clearly. It was a simple chain with an oval tag at the center, a WM was engraved on it and she smiled. She could say his bracelet was upside down. It didn’t matter if she knew his name or not, she knew the engraving would look the same either side and it might be fun to see if he went to fix it or turned his nose up and said it wasn’t.

The conversations she could have started ran through her head multiple times in different ways. Everything from the simplest thank-you to a divulging of her life story, even the idea of meeting his kindness with a sardonic dose of humor to see if he might be as fun to play with as he appeared filtered their way through her thoughts. With her one never knew which path they’d get. She usually either over-shared or became incapable of speech, there was no in between, but there was an outlier in her biting wit. And there was always the dreaded possibility of inadvertently revealing her true nature to someone harmful to her. She did live in Salem, after all.

She grinned at the thought.

The odds of harm coming to her here were higher from getting in line at a local Dunks than someone finding out who she was or where she came from. Whether it was the increased risk of heart disease from their offerings or voicing her opinion that the amount of sugar in their “regular” coffee was criminal, that’s where the real risks lay. It didn’t help matters much that there seemed to be one within every mile of any other.

Most of the people on the subway filtered off before her stop, but the older woman and the man she stood next to stayed on; as did the college girl and the businessman who’d been shooed to the other pole. The tech-type was the only one to get off the train with her at North Station. That was unexpected. Usually a bunch of people depart there, particularly at that time of day.

Then he followed her as she walked toward the commuter rail. Why was he continuing to the commuter rail? She’d never noticed him on the ride before and he had a distinct look, she would’ve noticed him. He was walking behind her, and she picked up her pace, which he then matched. She slowed down, and he did, too.

It was unnerving. She finally stopped and turned to face him. “Are you following me?”

“No…” The inflection in his voice denoted some uncertainty. He wasn’t intentionally following her, but he was following behind her and headed in the same general direction, did that count as following her?

Her right eyebrow lifted. “Why do you keep slowing down when I do?”

He gestured toward the narrow path they were on as other people rushed down the other side of the steps. “Because I don’t want to barrel into you by continuing my normal walking pace.”

She stepped aside and motioned for him to go past, and he did, shaking his head all the while and trying not to laugh. She huffed with irritation. She was on her own and understandably defensive given the station wasn’t abuzz with activity. While he didn’t feel dangerous, or off, the entire station felt abnormal. She didn’t like it and it made the fine dark hairs on her arm stand on end.

He picked up his pace and she walked faster, keeping up. He slowed down and she matched his pace. He turned around and put his hand on his hip, eyebrow cocked up and a grin on his face. “Are you following me?” His tone was mocking, but not rude.

She gave him a dry look. “Maybe?”

He hadn’t expected her to answer that way and his hand dropped from his hip. “What do you mean, maybe?”

“I mean… It was you, right?”

“What was me?”

She held up her phone. “Saw my bank account?”

“Maybe.” He was taken aback. How did she know?

“Thank-you. I get paid tomorrow; I can give it back if you…”

He cut her off and turned around, nearly jogging away. “Nope, no need, you deserved it more than… just don’t worry about it. Consider it a gift.”

Baffled, she watched him retreat and then ran to catch up. “Wait, at least… I don’t know, let me do something for you? Get you a coffee tomorrow or something?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, and she ran right into him with an “Oomph,” nearly knocking them both over before they steadied themselves.

“Are you asking a perfect stranger out?” he asked as he straightened out his shirt.

Her cheeks flushed. “No, it’s not like that, I just…”

He smirked and she blushed brighter, biting her lower lip to keep herself from spilling everything in her brain out between them. “How about tonight?” she asked.

“It’s getting late…” he mumbled, thrown off balance by the turn of events.

She looked ostentatiously toward the still bright sky and shook her head, pointing upward. “It’s really not…”

“It’s six… Fine, have dinner with me to take my mind off some shitty life things if you want. You don’t have to, a gift is a gift, no strings attached, but if you really want to do something for me, an hour of conversation over a good meal would go a long way tonight,” he offered.

“At least let me pay then?”

He smiled. “I mean, I saw your bank account, pretty sure I’m paying either way so you may as well keep what I already gave you and let me add to it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded him skeptically for a moment or two then sighed. “Fine. What’s your name at least?”

“Everyone calls me Will. And you are?”

“Ayela.”

“Yeah, that tracks.” His laugh was kind and she got butterflies at how genuine it sounded, but his wording threw her.

Her eyebrow ticked up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you don’t strike me as a Susie or Amanda. It had to be something rare or obnoxiously beautiful. Didn’t count on both, but it works.”

Her already flushed cheeks didn’t give away her discomfort at the compliment and pseudo pick-up line, but breaking eye contact and shifting her weight to the foot further away from him did. He chuckled and continued up the path while she trailed behind. They’d just made the train.

Her stomach tightened as he grabbed her hand and a jolt of static electricity between their palms caused them both to pull away then laugh uncomfortably. He put his hand on her lower back and guided her to an empty seat at the front of the car and away from other people. He was almost disappointed the train wasn’t more full. Could’ve offered to let her ride in his lap. Or him in hers if she’d prefer.

Under normal circumstances, she would’ve smacked his hand away, but something about him got the better of her. She allowed him more access to herself than she would normally accept from a stranger, and it felt… comfortable. It was something she’d so rarely felt around men, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“Okay, conversation starters,” he said as he plopped into the seat next to her and loosened the buttons at his wrists so he could roll the sleeves up. “You don’t seem the type to be at all interested in someone’s daily life, so I’m gonna throw out an odd question, why are you broke?”

“That’s a bit intrusive, isn’t it?”

“Would you rather I ask how old you are or what you do for work?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. Fine. Friends of my roommates keep bringing pets over to our apartment and leaving them there. It’s always supposed to be for a night or while they get settled into their new place, but then they come back and are like, ‘Oh, Jackie looks so settled now, I don’t wanna disrupt him again, can he stay?’ and I end up with a new pet because of course he can.”

“So, you’re broke because of pet food?”

“And vet care. Birds need wings trimmed, cats need teeth cleaned and nails clipped, dogs need anal glands expressed, nails clipped and baths, guinea pigs need teeth filing sometimes. They all need yearly checkups and vaccines.”

“How many pets do you have?”

“Five. Artemis is a Papillon who thinks she’s a goddess. Apollo is a Maine Coon, he’s bigger than the dog. Clotho and Atropos are guinea pigs, I’m not sure their exact breed but I think Clotho is Abyssinian and Atropos is Silkie. And Chaos is a Scarlet Macaw who is actually my pet.”

“And they all came to you with Greek names?”

“No. Artemis was Betty until I got her, Apollo was Jack, Clotho and Atropos were Ren and Stimpy.”

“Do they get along?”

“Eh… I mean, I keep Clotho and Atropos in plastic balls, or their cage run most of the time because both Artemis and Apollo get real fascinated by them and I don’t want to find out if they will play or snack. Chaos is chill with everyone, but Apollo does like to pounce her tail feathers sometimes.”

“How old are they?”

“Artemis is two. Apollo is six. Clotho and Atropos, we think, are both around five years old. I’m not really expecting them to be around much longer, to be honest. Chaos is ten.” She looked up, a wistful expression on her face. “She was the best thing I got out of a bad relationship.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting…”

“It’s not. I was young, in love and blind to every red flag he dangled in front of me. Cut me off from my friends and family, made me feel so small and weak. He gave me Chaos, who was also small and weak at the time. Her eyes were still closed, and she was so scrawny. She couldn’t have been more than two weeks old given she had so few little downy feathers. My boyfriend thought Chaos would die on me, kept telling me she wasn’t going to make it and I was wasting my time. Keeping that tiny bird alive gave me purpose. Then Chaos started growing in her flight feathers and she perked up. Jumped up on my shoulder one day and my ex was speechless. He tried to say we couldn’t keep her and I had to give her away. He wanted Chaos to die on me. He wanted to absolutely crush any hope I had at doing and being good. Chaos and I left without a word one night, and we never looked back.”

“And you’re a badass. Got it.” Will smiled as he leaned back in his seat. “You have any pictures of your zoo?”

“Of course I do.” Ayela pulled out her phone and scrolled through the camera album to a few ‘family’ photos of her and her pets. Chaos sat on her shoulder, her head leaning against the brightly colored bird’s beak. Apollo and Artemis sat on her lap, each nuzzling into her open palms. Clotho and Atropos sat in two plastic balls by her knee, Atropos blurred slightly as the little furball had begun to run when her roommate snapped the photo.

“Wow.”

Her demeanor shifted as he took in the contents of the photo. “It’s not like they’re my whole life or anything. I just don’t think it’s fair to keep moving them around to different people. They deserve someone who’ll care for them and be a constant presence in their lives. They deserve a home.”

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