Pentacle

Petunia let out a prolonged, steadying breath as she pressed the doorbell. Acacia cracked the door open and stood in the doorway with an impassive stare.

“Who the hell are you?” Acacia spat, her eyes narrowing.

“Back at cha,” Petunia retorted, mirroring the sulky, heavily eyelinered girl’s glare. Petunia cocked her head, a flicker of recognition in her eyes, but she couldn’t pinpoint where she’d seen the girl before. Aggie’s melodious voice, calling from inside, broke her concentration.

“Acacia, who is it?”

Aggie swung the door open further and beamed at Petunia, Zinnia, and Briar-Rose.

“Acacia, can you tell the others to meet us in the living room?”

With an eye roll, Acacia vanished into the depths of the house.

Aggie ushered the girls into the living room, where a welcoming tray of tea and cookies sat on the coffee table. Briar-Rose and Petunia made themselves comfortable on the couch while Zinnia, drawn by the cookies, inched toward the edge of her seat near her mom.

“Go on. Take one,” Aggie encouraged, noticing the girl’s eager gaze.

Zinny looked at her mom for confirmation. Once Petunia gave her an approving nod, she gleefully grabbed a cookie and beamed her thanks to Aggie. Briar-Rose smiled, reaching for a cup of tea and a cookie for herself.

“Your house looks like a castle,” Zinny exclaimed, crumbs tumbling from her mouth as she spoke.

“Zinny, manners!” Petunia scolded.

Aggie displayed a joyous smile as she watched Petunia brush crumbs from Zinny’s lap. “Both my girls in this house again. What a glorious homecoming.”

“It’s not permanent,” Petunia assured her, placing a handful of crumbs onto the tray.

“Nothing is,” Aggie replied, shifting her attention to Briar. “I’m glad you were able to get out of work.”

Briar choked on her cookie, and her tea began to boil. She cringed at the sight of the bubbles and shakingly put the cup on the table.

“Actually…” Briar cleared her throat, “I got fired.”

“You lost your job?” Petunia asked, lifting a teacup. “Seriously?”

“That insurance job was a waste of your talents,” Aggie said dismissively, swatting her hand in the air.

Petunia sputtered on her tea, sending a spray across the room. “You were an insurance agent?”

“I don’t know why you worked there as long as you did,” Aggie continued, ignoring Petunia’s comment.

“Pretty sure it was to pay her bills. Not that it seemed to be helping,” Petunia said, turning to Briar. “You honestly got fired?”

Briar parted her lips to speak but instead slumped back against the couch in defeat.

Petunia watched her sister fiddle with the crimson, rose-shaped gem on her drop necklace, feeling a sudden wave of guilt wash over her.

It’s been a while since you’ve played the older sister role. Aggie’s voice rang in Petunia’s head. But you must remember enough to know you’re being too harsh on Briar.

Petunia sighed, knowing Aggie was right. “What happened?” Petunia asked softly.

“This jerk at work—”

“No, I mean, when I left home, you were good,” Petunia interrupted Briar. “Sure, you were shy, but you were going to go to college. And now—I don’t even know if you finished a degree.”

“That was a long time ago,” Briar replied.

“I don’t get it,” Petunia pushed on, “You were so smart.”

“Well, a lot can happen to people after you abandon them,” Briar retorted, and the teapot began to rattle on the tray. “And you’re seven years too late for the motherly lecture.”

“You’re right,” Petunia conceded, setting her cup down.

Before Petunia could offer a further apology, the mood was shattered by Acacia storming into the living room, followed closely by Harper and Jace.

Aggie beamed, happy for a reprieve from the tension the teens welcomed. “Children, good! I’d like you to meet Briar-Rose, Petunia, and Zinnia.” She then nodded towards Briar and Petunia with a warm smile. “You’ve already met Acacia. This is Harper.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harper mumbled, never fully looking up at them.

“And Jason.”

“It’s Jace,” he corrected with a scowl.

“Nobody cares,” Acacia groaned.

“Go dig up a grave,” Jace hissed in a venomous tone.

“Only if I get to push you in it,” Acacia shot back, her voice just as lethal.

Petunia watched the two teens bicker while the red-headed girl, Harper, stood silently, her gaze fixed on the floorboards.

“Are we done showcasing the orphans?” Acacia huffed, crossing her arms, clearly bored of fighting with Jace.

“Yes, dear, but would you mind taking Zinnia with you so we can talk?” Aggie asked with a smile.

“Yes,” Acacia and Jace said in unison.

“We’ll watch her,” Harper replied, sending Acacia and Jace a sharp scolding stare before turning to Aggie with a sweet smile. She reached for Zinnia’s hesitant hand and led her toward the kitchen. “Come on. I think Aggie just bought apple juice boxes.”

Petunia rose to her feet, her eyes tracking her daughter as she left with the strangers.

“She’ll be fine,” Aggie reassured her, her voice steady and confident.

“So, you’re a lonely old woman?” Briar asked Aggie with a raised brow.

“Perspective, dear.”

“Uh-huh,” Briar said, nibbling at her cookie.

Aggie observed Petunia’s lingering gaze on the closed door, noting her furrowed brows. “They’re good kids. They’re just… still adjusting.”

“Adjusting?” echoed Petunia, concern lacing her voice.

“Yes. They’ve all lost their parents in the last three weeks,” Aggie said softly, shaking her head, her eyes clouding with sorrow as she sipped her tea.

Acacia’s face flashed in Petunia’s mind again, and she remembered where she’d seen her.

“She’s the girl from my dream,” Petunia said.

“Yes,” Aggie answered.

“What dream?” Briar asked, her confusion evident.

What exactly are you planning with us and those kids?’ Petunia asked, her attention locked on Aggie.

Briar cast a sidelong glance back at the door that led to the kitchen with a hint of puzzlement. “They didn’t seem like they’re in mourning.”

“You’d be amazed at what a little burdock root, dandelion, and lavender tea, along with Hawthorne berry cookies, can do to heal a broken heart,” Aggie said, winking at Briar.

Petunia rolled her eyes. “You spelled them.”

“I helped them,” Aggie corrected. “We’re witches, dear. That’s what we do.”

“You’re a witch.” Petunia practically hissed. She pointed at Briar and herself. “We’re mortal.”

Aggie’s lips tightened into a thin line as she set down her cup and glowered at Petunia. She opened her mouth to speak, but Briar was quicker.

“Aggie, not that we aren’t happy to see you and meet…the kids—”

“Random kids,” Petunia grumbled into her mug.

“But—”

“Why the hell did you summon us here?” Petunia finished, cutting Briar off.

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Nia,” Aggie chastised, furrowing her brows.

“Aggie, Nia didn’t mean any harm; she’s just—we’re just— curious about why you’ve called us here,” Briar said calmly, attempting to keep the peace. Ignoring Petunia’s subtle snarl, Briar massaged her temple, feeling the weight of their old family dynamics.

She’d forgotten how it felt to be the mediator between these two. Growing up, it felt like half of her childhood consisted of defending Aggie’s reasoning to Petunia or explaining Petunia’s point of view to Aggie. A shiver ran down her spine as she sank into the couch, nervously fiddling with her necklace again. It was unsettling how effortlessly they all fell back into their old patterns.

Petunia huffed, regretting her decision to return home as she reached for a cookie. Her fingers barely grazed her sweet distraction from Aggie’s glare when a spark leaped from her hand, igniting the cookie ablaze. She quickly doused the flames by pouring her tea over it.

“Aggie, what the heck’s going on?” Petunia demanded, her frown deepening as she stared at the soggy cookie platter.

When Aggie didn’t respond, Petunia’s festering frustration grew. She remembered how Aggie would give her the silent treatment whenever Petunia refused to admit she was acting disrespectfully. But Aggie had to have seen the pyrotechnic display just now, yet she still refused to say anything.

This seemed too childish, even for Aggie’s… unique parenting style. Petunia’s brows furrowed, and she tore her gaze from the cookies, determined to force Aggie to speak to her but faltered, noticing the somber expression that had overtaken Aggie’s face.

Aggie turned away from her and Briar after seeing their concerned stares, but Petunia caught a fleeting glimpse of despair in Aggie’s eyes. Her own expression softened. “Aggie, what’s wrong?”

“Charles is dead,” the words passed Aggie’s lips, barely audible.

“Oh,” Briar exhaled, covering her mouth with her hands.

“Sorry to hear that, Aggie,” Petunia said, placing a comforting hand on Briar’s leg. She knew her sister found death unsettling, especially after their mother died when they were children. “Really.”

“Yes, well.” Aggie cleared her throat, her voice trembling as she fought to hold back tears on the edge of cascading. “With his passing, it’s imperative that you both take your place in the coven.”

“What?” Briar gasped, her eyes bulging, threatening to leave their sockets.

“No way,” Petunia declared, her tone resolute.

“Nia, you can’t shy away from your destiny forever,” Aggie replied.

“I’m not shying away. I’m refusing it,” Petunia retorted. She huffed at Aggie’s nerve. “What did you expect us to do? Briar and I already have lives, and magic doesn’t have a place in them.”

Aggie let out a weary sigh. She knew this wouldn’t be the easiest task of her last few chaotic weeks but had hoped it would go smoother than this.

“Charles was the last member of our circle. He’s all I had to help contain yours and the others’ powers,” Aggie explained. “Without him, I can barely handle it.”

Petunia glanced at the burnt, soggy cookie, then slumped into the sofa. “I guess that explains my house burning down.”

“Wait? What?” Briar exclaimed, her expression utter shock. She stared at Petunia as if she’d gone mad for the casual mention of her house catching fire. As the gravity of Petunia’s words sank in, the tea kettle on the table began to shudder and ultimately tipped over, flooding the tray. Briar-Rose sprang forward, reaching for napkins to mop up the spill, then halted, her attention snapping to Aggie. “Aggie? What others?”

Petunia and Briar followed Aggie’s gaze towards the door the teens led Zinny through earlier.

“You don’t mean?” Briar asked, her features screwing.

“Yes, they’re all coven descendants.”

“You gotta be kidding me. This coven’s like cockroaches,” Petunia said, nostrils flared. “More always seem to creep out of the baseboards.”

“Together, you’ll replace the old coven as the protectors of the innocent,” Aggie finished, undeterred by Petunia’s outburst.

That was the last straw for Petunia. She stood sharply, her patience frayed.

“I—no.” Petunia snatched her purse. “I’m sorry about Charles, Aggie, but next time, save me the trip and use a phone. Zinnia!”

Zinny burst through the door, her face alight with a giddy smile. “Mommy, guess what?” Her enthusiasm faded as her mother grabbed her hand, steering her out of the living room and towards the foyer.

“Tell me later. We’re leaving.”

Grumbling under her breath, Petunia yanked the front door open, only to stop short, taken aback by the sight of a man in a suit poised to ring the doorbell. She tilted her head, squinting slightly, as recognition dawned. She knew the younger version of the man standing before her. “Gene?”