It'd been two days since the doors were opened, and the academy was still sorting out the want-to-be applicants from the real witches.
"Name?" Zoe asked as the applicant practically had to climb onto the chair.
"Ida Applewood," replied the young girl. She couldn't be over five, with tiny little braids hanging from either side of a baby-round face. Her swinging feet rustled the fluffy skirt of a springtime dress, dyed black. She could see a little spot of missed flower print on the sleeve.
"Okay, Ida." Zoe glanced up to see a thin, willowy figure in the doorway, large sunglasses covering her eyes and emotions. The mother. "What made you think you were a witch?" The little girl glanced back at her mother for the okay. Slowly, her mother dipped her head.
"…I can see them," she whispered.
"See who?" Zoe asked softly. She watched as the girl's eyes darted around the room.
"I can see them. The old butler who plays with dolls. He greeted me when I came in. He said that he had an attic of dollies and he would like to have a tea party some time." Zoe's eyes widened. "And then when we passed the greenhouse, a curly-haired girl with the shawl was playing with a baby gator, singing about Rhiannon, whoever that is."
"Okay that's enough," the council member said kindly. Instead of refocusing, though, the girl's eyes suddenly darted behind her.
"Hello, lady." Zoe looked behind her. No one was there.
"Who is it?" she questioned the young witch.
"She says her name is Anna Leigh Leighton. That's a pretty name." There was a pause. "You're welcome." She glanced back at Zoe. "She says she was the Supreme before this Supreme's mother. She said to thank Cordelia for righting this coven." She tilted her head. "Mrs. Leighton has to go now, but she says that she'll be around. Bye-bye, Mrs. Leighton." Her eyes followed a figure Zoe couldn't see to the door, and then fixed on the council member again. "I am a witch, right?"
"Yes, I'm pretty sure you are," whispered Zoe. Quickly, she looked up at the mother, whose face remained passive. "As her mother, you should sign these papers giving us guardianship over her. All the parents have to do this, simply so that we can take care of the girls. You are still their primary guardian and can request that they come home at any time, but in order for them to live most of their lives with us, we need to make sure that-" The mother shook her head and held up a hand, cutting her off.
"Just get her out of my house," she hissed, signing the papers and walking off without a second glance.
"Name?" Zoe asked from behind the main desk. A chair was set up in front of the area and various notebooks and pens were scattered about, both on the piece of furniture and around the floor.
"Kiana Raven." The girl had artificially dyed black streaks in blonde hair, creating a sharp contrast to her pale skin. She had a tattoo of a raven on her right shoulder and black eyes thickly lined with make-up, though Zoe was pretty sure that they were just contacts.
"Okay, Kia-" Before she could continue, the girl cut her off.
"Raven. I don't go by my first name."
"Alright, then Raven. What made you realize that you're a witch?"
"I killed a man."
"How does this mean you're a witch?"
"I pulverized his flesh to make a paste and applied it to my skin. I'm a witch now." Zoe frowned.
"I'm afraid that ground flesh doesn't make you a witch. Being a witch is something hereditary, and-"
"I am a witch!"
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"Accept me as your sister! I am one of you!" It was the last straw. Zoe stood up, slammed her palm on the table, and screamed right back at her.
"Leave!" With one hand, she made a shoving motion, throwing Raven like a rag doll through the doors and into the hall. Kyle took it from there.
Nobody ever claimed or identified the body hanging from the tree in central park.
Being an open coven meant that they attracted their fair share of nutters, too.
Zoe collapsed onto the big, soft bed, limbs sprawled over the clean sheets. The day had been filled with imposters, wishing they were witches, and girls whose powers had almost frightened her. Too much, she thought, but just one more day. She, Cordelia, and Queenie had sorted out thirty real witches from the hordes of imposters so far, and fifty more girls still had to go through the application process. One more day.
She heard the door open and Kyle walked in, throwing his jacket onto the corner of the bed. His hands fumbled at his tie and she sat up, gently un-doing the knots for him as he sat down next to her.
"Hey," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She put the tie down next to the jacket and kissed him on the nose.
"Hey." The word was breathy and quiet as it fell from lipstick-red lips. He kissed her, and she leaned into him, loving his warmth, his love. His hand brushed over her hair and she let her arms hang over his shoulders, her hands clasping each other behind his neck. Their bodies shifted so that she was sitting on his lap, legs wrapped around his middle. Kyle held her tight to him, and she held him to her. In a sudden motion, he picked her up and lay her back on the middle of the bed, kissing her harder than before. His hands traveled, and she felt herself involuntarily stiffen. "Not tonight," she whispered, voice hitching. "We don't want to scare the girls with our creaking and moaning." She hoped she sounded convincing, but his hands left her clothes alone and instead moved up to caress her face as he kissed her again.
"Okay," he whispered, his lips moving on hers.
When they lay together later that night, his body curled protectively around hers, his breath tickled her ear and she heard, "More happy love. More happy, happy love," before drifting off into a soft slumber.