Free The Witch's Key by Dana Donovan

didn’t.”
    Leona turned and pressed her back to the door. “You
know, I do not like making lies to Detective Marcella. I wish you
to not ask me again.”
    What her visitor said next was not important, but
seeing that she always gets her way, I didn’t bank much on Leona’s
wishes coming true anytime soon.
    When I got home, I half expected to find my stuff
tossed out onto the curb or in the community trash bin. It is not
that Lilith is particularly vindictive. She is just deliberate and
matter of fact about things like that. If my declaration of love
for her made her the least bit uncomfortable, then I knew she would
have no problem dealing with it in the most absolute and efficient
way possible. To my surprise, my personal effects were all present
and accounted for. Lilith, however, was not.
    I checked the bedroom first, noting that her
previously made bed now look slept in. I had only been gone a
couple of hours, which made me think that I had just missed her.
So, I checked the laundry baskets next. If our clothes were
missing, I knew it meant that she likely stepped out to the
launderette. If only hers were missing, well, you get the idea. But
a quick peek in the closet squelched both those possibilities. That
left just one other: that she had gone for a walk to clear her
head, maybe reconsider her feelings for me. I welcomed that notion
as my best hope for resolution in the matter, concluding that if
she didn’t come around, or at least think that we had a chance
together, then my only wish would be that I never took part in her
damn rite of passage ceremony to begin with.
    From the bedroom, I walked straight to the kitchen,
remembering about that beer in the fridge that I started to get
earlier. The thought of it sounded mighty good about then. But
something strange happened in the time it took between opening the
refrigerator door and actually drinking the beer. Really, it was
two strange things. The first was the literal time it took. I
remember looking at the clock, noting that it was five after five,
a respectable time to be tapping my first brew. But when I popped
the tab and took a swig, the clock had miraculously jumped ahead
twenty minutes.
    The second phenomenon (less mechanical, more
supernatural) came in the form of clean dishes. What was once a
messy pile of cups and plates and things waiting to be washed, was
now a stack of cleaned and dried dishes sparkling pretty on the
counter. I thought for a moment that I might be losing my mind
entirely. But then it hit me. At once, I realized why Lilith ran to
me so quickly to apologize after unleashing the whisper spell in
the envelope that had me humping bedroom furniture around her
bedroom. She knew I was heading to the refrigerator for a beer and
she did not want me to find her next little surprise spell so
soon.
    But that little surprise of hers gave me an idea.
Ever since my return to prime, I suspected that I inherited
something more in the rite of passage. Lilith’s incantation sparked
a powerful spell that consumed us both in its breath. I remember
her words exactly. ‘ Banish weaker mortal souls, we summons thee
of witch’s role. Through hexing slight of wizard’s slant, invoke
thy magick, and essence grant.’ You can’t tell me that wasn’t
an order to banish my mortal soul and grant me essence of magic, or
magick, as she put it. The kicker came in her closing invocation.
‘ By Rite of Passage this night begun, bestow upon thy soul plus
one . ’ That part was for me, the plus one. I tell you, it
was really something. You had to be there.
    Ever since then I have suspected I might have come
out of the ritual with something other than the obvious. I was
never sure, though, until Lilith confirmed it. I am a witch. It is
there, she said, in my eyes. And now the time for change had come.
For too long she exploited my affections for her by practicing her
witchcraft on me, knowing that I would tolerate it for the chance
of winning her over—but no