Root shifted her car into park in front of her house. She'd finally gotten good at parallel parking and could slide her purple Beetle into the tightest of spaces. It wasn't a particularly fancy car, but she thought it was cute. It was also funny to see children punching each other as she drove by.
Unbuckling her seatbelt, Root looked out her window, spotting her neighbor as she stepped out of the sleek black car parked in front of Root's. Hurrying to turn her car off and open her door, Root grinned.
"Hello, Shaw!" Root greeted as she stepped out of her car. "It's pretty cold, huh?"
She shut the driver's door and moved to the backseat, glancing at Shaw as she pulled the car door open. It was cold, another freezing Baltimore winter, but Root didn't mind too much. Her house had heating and the roads were usually salted and plowed quickly after a heavy snow. Besides, she was almost used to it now.
When she'd moved to Baltimore from Texas three years ago, she'd had a hard time adjusting. The summers weren't too hot for her, but she'd never been in weather this cold before. When she'd tried to shovel her car out after the first storm, her neighbor had yelled at her for dumping it into the street. Root had learned better, but that neighbor still hated her. Root was pretty sure that she was a witch.
Reaching into her back seat and picking up a heavy box full of copper wire, Root groaned. She wished that she was a witch, because then she wouldn't have to do so much lifting. Stumbling backwards, Root tried to adjust her grip on the box and fell, landing hard on a snowbank, her box in her lap.
"You should lift weights," a husky voice said above her, "or stop trying to lift heavy things."
Root looked over her shoulder to see Shaw standing on the sidewalk, bundled up against the cold and holding two plastic bags in her gloved hands. Shaw was the most interesting part of Baltimore. She was a doctor at Johns Hopkins and she lived in the house next door to Root. They shared a wall and sometimes, Root was sure she could hear weird chanting coming from Shaw's side. She'd never been able to prove it, though.
"Good advice," Root sighed, lifting a leg to push the car door shut. "I would certainly ask for your help less."
"One can only hope," Shaw drawled. She put her bags down and trudged towards Root. "Come on, give me the box."
She stepped around the snowbank and stopped at Root's side. The box looked featherlight as Shaw picked it up and Root rolled her eyes. In the summer, when Shaw wore tanktops and t-shirts, Root would pretend to need help just to see her biceps work, but when she actually needed help, she felt a little embarrassed.
There were a lot of things that Root was really good at, but feats of strength were not on her list. Thankfully, Shaw blew fuses on a monthly basis and Root could fix them for her. Root had even helped install AC units in most of the rooms in Shaw's house and she'd set up Shaw's wi-fi. So, she probably didn't seem like a total loser. Besides, if Shaw thought that Root was an idiot, they wouldn't be sleeping together.
Once Shaw had moved back to the sidewalk with the box, Root climbed to her feet carefully. She reached into her pocket to press the lock button on her car keys and then walked towards her house, trying to swipe snow off her pants and jacket. She was going to change when she got inside, but no point in leaving puddles on her wood floors.
She smiled at Shaw. "Bring it inside?"
"Sure." Shaw shrugged and started up the walkway towards Root's house. "Whatever."
Quickly picking up Shaw's bags, Root followed her. As they walked, Root peeked into the bags, taking in the candles and various fresh herbs. Glancing at Shaw's back, Root wondered, not for the first time, if Shaw was a witch after all. It wouldn't be surprising.
Root had moved to Baltimore three years ago in search of witches. Before that, she'd lived in Salem for a while, but she hadn't had any luck. She'd figured that maybe Baltimore was a better place, that witches didn't like to live in Salem anymore. Root didn't care where she lived, as long as she could find someone to teach her magic.
She had a fond memory of a witch who had lived in Bishop when she was young. Root had been about thirteen. She'd just lost Hanna and she'd wandered out to the fields around town, looking for some peace. She'd found a house out there, the chimney smoke rising in a spiral, and she'd knocked on the door. As an adult, she can see how dumb that was, but it had felt right at the time and Root was glad she'd done it.
The witch woman had been beautiful, her hair and eyes wild. She'd given Root a cup of something hot and Root had felt better. She didn't even know if it was a potion or just a flavor of tea that Root didn't recognize, but it had changed her a little. Root didn't realize that until she was older and having strange dreams of ravens and orioles and her heart would race whenever she stepped near graveyards.
The witch's house hadn't been there anymore when Root had gone back the next day. She'd tried to find it again for years after that, but it never reappeared. When Root's mother had died, Root left Bishop, determined to find another witch and learn from her. That was over a decade ago and Root had yet to find another witch.
They were out there, though, Root knew it, and she was going to find one. After years of studying on her own, Root could do little spells. She could turn her lights on and off and she could boil water pretty quickly. She'd also found a recipe for a calming potion, but it wasn't nearly as good as the one Root remembered drinking as a child.
"Can you not go through my stuff?"
Root jumped. She'd gotten lost in her memories and stopped walking at the foot of her steps. Blushing, she closed the bags and jogged up the four steps onto her porch. "Sorry."
She shifted the bags to one hand and pulled out her keys. It only took her a second to unlock and open the door and then she was stepping inside her house and stomping her feet on the rug that lined the entrance hallway. Dropping her keys into a bowl she kept on the radiator by the door, she turned around to smile at Shaw.
"Can you drop that on the dining table? I'll make us hot chocolate."
"No, thanks," Shaw answered. She stomped her feet on the rug as she walked down the hall to the dining room at the end. "I can't stay."
Root pouted, following Shaw. "Why not? We can snuggle up on the couch and watch a movie. I'll order Chinese."
Shaw dropped the box on the table and its contents clattered. "I would rather die. I'm not a snuggler."
"Well," Root chuckled, "maybe afternoon you isn't a snuggler, but morning you definitely is."
She closed the distance between them. Lifting her hand around Shaw to drop the bags onto the table, Root pressed her hips into Shaw's butt. For a moment, Shaw pushed back into her and Root dipped her head for a kiss, but then a sharp elbow caught Root in the ribs and she stumbled backwards.
Turning around, Shaw glared at her. "I said not today."
"Sorry," Root mumbled. She brushed her hair from her face, shifting awkwardly. "Thanks for bringing my box in."
"Yeah," Shaw said, shrugging. She stepped forward, moving past Root to the door. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Root didn't answer. Instead, she picked up the bags from where she'd put them on the table and turned around, holding them up. She caught Shaw turning around, her face drawn down into a scowl. Shaw held out her hand.
"Can I have my things?"
Root hummed, tapping her finger against her chin. "Not today."
"Ok," Shaw snorted. "Very funny. Give me my bags. I need that stuff."
"For your project?"
Shaw clenched and unclenched her fist, demanding the bags. "Yes, for my project. Give me the bags."
"Tell me what your project is."
Shaw dropped her hand, glaring at Root. Root tried to look her over intently, taking in every detail of her form, but nothing seemed magical. Her annoyance was just her typical annoyance, no floating hairs or indoor winds. Root sighed as Shaw growled.
"Give me my stuff," Shaw demanded again, "or I'll just stop hooking up with you."
"Well," Root laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder with her free hand, "that's a heavy threat. I guess I'll give you your bags, but I need something in return."
Shaw rolled her eyes. "What?"
"A kiss." Root tilted her head. "To hold me over."
"Ugh, fine."
Striding down the hall rapidly, Shaw lifted onto her toes and kissed Root. Before Root could even close her eyes, Shaw and the bags Root had been holding were gone. Root watched Shaw almost sprint down the hallway again and disappear out the front door.
After that, Root was completely alone in her house. She sighed and shrugged out of her heavy coat. She didn't mind being alone, it was actually nice, but she would have liked spending the night with Shaw more. Root tossed her coat on top of her box and walked into the kitchen to make dinner.
The rest of her night passed uneventfully. Like most nights in Baltimore, it managed to be both quiet and loud at once. Her neighborhood was sandwiched between a park and a busy street, full of restaurants and small shops. Her nights were full of the quiet sounds of cars rolling past and the creak of wood as the house groaned and settled. They were also full of ambulances and screaming, drunk friends trying to walk home.
Root had an established routine. She would cook dinner for herself in her small kitchen, using the front left burner because it was the only one that worked, and sit at her small card table tucked into a corner to read as she ate. Then, she'd put her dishes in the off-white dishwasher and move through the dining room, down the hall, past the door to the living room, and up the creaking wooden steps to the second floor.
There, she'd go into her office, turn on her computer and monitors, then move to the next room. It was supposed to be another bedroom, but Root had bought the house in cash and she used all the rooms for her own needs. The second bedroom was a library. Tall bookcases lined the walls, stuffed with ancient books, and a round table sat in the middle, a Ouija board carved into the center with a knife made of bone.
Root had 'found' the bone in an old cemetery. Baltimore had plenty of cemeteries, but Root had made sure to find one full of old slaveowners who didn't deserve a peaceful slumber. She wouldn't ruin the rest of those who needed it.
This room always made her small hairs stand up when she entered it. It was the closest she could come to the sensation of being in that witch's house as a child. The energy that filled the books had soaked into the wooden floor of this room and Root always took her shoes off before entering. Her body hummed as she walked through the room to a shelf and pulled down her favorite book of herbs.
She wanted to see if she could figure out what Shaw was doing with her night. Root had finally decided to stop second-guessing and just believe that Shaw was a witch. The chanting, the exotic herbs, and the shiver Root got whenever she walked by their shared wall seemed like convincing evidence. She was starting to be more sure of that Shaw was a witch than she was of Shaw actually liking her. She looked up at the plants that hung from the ceiling, at the vines crawling along the peeling paint. Winking at them, Root took the book back into her office and sat at her desk.
The details of this part of her routine changed from night to night, but her after-dinner time was always consumed with research. Root would turn from book to computer, taking notes and looking up new resources. Her studies at night helped calm her before bed, the knowledge that she gained making her feel steady. At this point, she was basically a walking encyclopedia for all things magic-related.
Root looked at her list of herbs. She'd written down everything she'd seen in Shaw's bags, but she couldn't figure out what Shaw was trying to do. Some of the herbs worked together for healing, some combinations would help with a spell to increase power, but all together, there wasn't anything in the book.
She tried to remind herself that she didn't even know for sure if Shaw was working on something. Mint and black pepper were normal kitchen herbs. People made tea with wormwood and licorice root. She also reminded herself that Shaw could have been picking up items for different spells and not using them all at once. There were options.
After studying for a while, Root looked at the time. It was almost midnight and she should really go to bed. She was trying to hold to a schedule, even if she knew she'd end up forgetting and staying up too late after a few weeks. Most of her work happened at night and it would be good for her to keep a schedule when she was free.
She scooted her chair back from her desk, stood, and took a deep breath. Wiggling her fingers as she stretched her arms over her head, Root released her breath. She was annoyed that she hadn't discovered anything, but it was time for bed now.
Leaving the office, Root stepped into the hallway, moving down past her library and entering the bathroom at the end of the hall. It wasn't a great bathroom. It was a good size for one person, but it was a little worn down. The floor was a pattern of small hexagonal tiles, but a few were missing and there was a spot right in the middle that was always a little too hot to stand on barefoot. Root wasn't sure why.
She started undressing, tossing her clothes back out into the hall. Once she was naked, she turned the shower on, watching the water sputter for a few seconds before pouring out. Maybe she could find a spell to fix showers.
The window in the bathroom was also mediocre. Cold air blew in weakly from the outside and Root shivered as it hit her sensitive skin. Shaw's apartment was always warm in the winter and cold in the summer, somehow perfectly comfortable when Root's apartment was always the wrong temperature.
As she thought about Shaw, the hair on her arms stood straight up. Root stared down at her arms, wondering why she suddenly felt really uneasy. Her heart beats hurt for a moment and she pressed a hand to her chest, surprised by how hard the beats felt. As quickly as the painful sensation started, it was gone.
She'd never felt something like that before and Root wasn't sure what it meant. Had she had a mini panic attack? Was that a thing? Maybe she should ask Shaw tomorrow. Shaw was a doctor and she'd probably have answers. It might have been a reaction to her confusion about Shaw's feelings.
Root shivered again and pulled aside the curtain to climb into the shower. The water was hot on her skin, beating down on her back and warming her. It felt like she was thawing out as her muscles relaxed.
Root loved showers. There was something about the solitude and the loud-quiet of streaming water that soothed her. She loved the comfort of steam and heat. It helped her reset her brain and unwind from the day's work.
All of her soaps smelled like flowers. She wasn't particularly feminine, but the smell of lavender and honeysuckle and rose made her feel nice and fresh. Root picked up her shampoo from its place on the corner of the tub and squeezed too much into her hand. It was a little wasteful, but Root liked the way the bubbles felt.
It didn't take her too long to wash her hair and body and, by the time she finished, she'd forgotten about her maybe panic attack. She was ready to crawl into bed and dream of the witch's house like she did every night. Recently, Shaw had joined her in her dreams, sitting beside her drinking tea. She was a pleasant addition to an already pleasant dream.
Root turned the water off and took one last deep breath, breathing in the warm, floral smell. Eyeing the curtain, Root steeled herself for the blast of cold air that was going to hit her as soon as she moved it aside. She told herself that it would only take a second to get her towel on and run to her bedroom.
Root yanked open the curtain, yelping at the freezing air that swirled around her and hopped out of the shower, moving to the warm spot in front of the sink. She grabbed her towel from the rack and wrapped it around herself as quickly as possible, tucking the corner of the end into the top. Twisting a second towel around her hair, she hurried out of the cold room and into the hallway.
She passed between the office and the library, glancing into both rooms as she walked to her bedroom at the other end of the hallway. What she had seen didn't fully register in her mind until she was turning the handle on her bedroom door. When her brain had caught up to her eyes, she turned and ran back down the hallway, wet feet sliding on the wooden floors as she stopped between the doors.
In her office, the electronics were going crazy, swirling colors and lights flashing across her four monitors. The wires that normally lined the floor were floating, twisting like snakes in the air, and her desk chair had been flipped upside down, spinning in slow circles. Root felt her heart pound painfully, like it had in the bathroom earlier, and spun to stare into the library.
The Ouija board shone with white light, each carved line streamed power upwards. Her books rattled on the shelves, falling backwards to the floor with loud thumps. The vines that clung to her ceiling writhed and their leaves stretched downward, trying to soak in the magic from the Ouija board.
Root was shocked to know that she'd actually created a magical room. A part of her had wondered if this was all something she'd made up to deal with a bad childhood, but it wasn't. She wasn't chasing after nothing. It was all real, and she could do magic.
Root hurried into the room, determined to fix whatever was happening. The seat beneath the window doubled as a storage trunk and she lifted the top to peer inside. The knife that she had used to carve the table was wrapped in a silk cloth. She took the bundle and ran out of the room, the lid slamming shut as she raced down the hallway to the stairs. Her towel fell to the floor, leaving her naked in her freezing house, but she barely noticed.
The wall that she shared with Shaw was vibrating intensely and Root pressed herself to the railing of the stairs, staying as far from the wall as possible. She knew that Shaw was involved with this somehow. It was probably her 'project'. As ecstatic as she was to have proof that Shaw was a witch, Root would be furious if this ruined any of her books or her computers. It had taken her a decade to gather her materials.
Reaching the first floor, she went to the kitchen and pulled her large jar of black salt from the cabinet above the stove. She'd bought it years ago to do rituals, but for that last year or so, it had been serving as her cooking salt because it was really just sea salt and fine black pepper. Luckily, the jar was still half full, or half-empty, she thought, amused.
Once she'd gathered her salt and the knife, Root went to her front door. She threw it open and glanced up at the runes she'd carved into the outside molding. It glowed as bright as her Ouija board had. Now she knew that her guard worked and that Shaw didn't wish her harm. Well, not lasting harm anyway. It also made her glad to have her black salt. If her protection runes had worked, then the salt might actually work for protection as well.
A cold gust of wind swirled around her and reminded her that she was naked. Quickly, she ran across the yard to Shaw's door, not caring if anyone saw her. They should be so lucky. When she got to Shaw's door, she tried to open it, but it was locked. Setting down her jar of salt, Root unwrapped her knife and threw the silk cloth onto her shoulder.
Pricking the tip of her index finger, Root squeezed it until blood pooled. She pressed the blood into Shaw's door and took a deep breath. Physical magic had never worked for her before, but it seemed like tonight was different.
"Aperiesque ostium," she said with determination. As an afterthought, she added, "please."
The sound of four deadbolts sliding open filled the still night air, each scrape of metal against metal louder than the last. Finally, the door knob turned and Root's finger pushed the door open. Shaw's house was sweltering, and hot air rushed out to engulf Root and instantly sent sweat rolling down her back. Picking her salt jar up, Root went inside.
The door slammed shut behind her, the locks all snapping back into place. Root still clutched her knife in her hand, the bone cold despite the humid air. She started up the steps carefully, taking careful steps because of her sweating feet.
Shaw's house was the mirror image of Root's and so Root knew exactly where all the rooms were. Like her, Shaw owned her house and used the spare bedrooms as workspaces. One was a gym and Root had fond memories of watching Shaw exercise. The other was Shaw's study. Root had never been in there.
As she reached the second floor landing, Root could hear Shaw's voice. It was muffled and unintelligible, but it was coming from the study. Walking down the hall, the heat intensified and Root struggled to breath as the air thickened. Her chest tightened as she ran out of oxygen, so Root stopped and squatted down.
She quickly set her salt jar on the floor and put her knife beside it. Opening the jar, she pulled a hand full of salt out, watching as the excess fell through her fingers. Putting the handful of salt to her mouth, she took a sharp breath.
"Me respirare," she sighed into the salt, giving it the last of her air.
The salt swirled out of her hand on an invisible wind. It wrapped around Root's throat like a snake, tightening for just a second before releasing. Suddenly, Root could breathe and the salt lost its power. It ran down her body, clinging to her sweating skin.
Root picked up the knife again, wrapping her hand around the open lip of the jar and standing. She felt a little bit lightheaded from the brief lack of oxygen, but she knew that Shaw was in that room and she needed help. This couldn't be the first time she'd done magic while they were neighbors, but it was the first time it had been so powerful.
Walking to the study, Root tucked her knife under her armpit and used her now free hand to open the study door. As soon as Root entered the room, she knew this was not a problem that could be solved by a jar of salt and pepper. She set it down to the side quickly and took her bone knife back in her hand.
Shaw had carved a large circle into the center of the room, the line leaving an inch wide ditch in the pale wood. The moat was filled with a dark liquid that was flecked with small herbs. The floral smell told Root that it was the mint, pepper, wyrmwood, and licorice root that she'd seen in Shaw's bags earlier. It also smelled metallic and that told Root that the dark liquid was blood. She wondered if it was Shaw's or some unlucky stranger. It could also be from the hospital.
She supposed that it didn't really matter whose blood it was. Just inside the circle were four candles, one at due north, due south, due east, and due west. The northern candle was green, representing Earth. The southern candle was red for Fire. East was yellow for air and West was blue for water. The flames were six inches high, flickering wildly.
Finally, Root was able to focus on Shaw. She stood in the center of the circle, as naked as Root, but twice as sweaty. Her skin shone in the light from the candles and the moonbeams that streamed in from the open window behind her. Sweat dripped from her breasts, her fingertips, her jaw. Her hair was plastered to her body, flat on her head.
She stared at Root, stars dancing in her wild eyes. She didn't blink as she trembled in place. The heat that overwhelmed the house seemed to emanate from Shaw. The cone of power formed by the circle shimmered and rippled. It was clear that whatever spell she was working was straining away from her. Root took a deep breath, tightened the grip on her bone knife, and stepped into the circle.
Immediately, the magical heat overwhelmed Root's senses and her legs almost collapsed beneath her. She braced herself, her body beginning to tremble along with Shaw's. Underneath the bodily instability, Root felt something swirling inside of her. It burned along with the heat, racing through her veins and filling her brain with light.
The feeling was so familiar that she recognized it instantly. It was the same sensation she'd felt at the witch's house as a child, the one she'd been chasing her whole life. It was electric and calm all at once, making her feel full and satisfied and still hungering for something... other.
Root straightened and met Shaw's eyes again, doing her best to stay strong. Shaw's eyebrows knit together, confused. Wrapping her hand around Root's wrist, she lifted it and the bone knife. She looked it over for a moment and nodded.
"I need energy," she said hoarsely. "Too many computers."
Root's eyes fluttered with relief. "I can help with that."
Nodding, Shaw took the knife from Root with her other hand and pointed it at Root's mouth. "Lip."
When she loosened her grip, Root put the knife to her bottom lip and drew a short line down the center. Blood bloomed easily, mingling with the sweat on Root's chin to drip down to the floor. It seemed to evaporate as soon as it hit the ground. Root offered the knife to Shaw.
Shaw didn't take it. Her lip split opened on its own, blood pouring from the small wound. Root blinked and then Shaw was kissing her. She barely processed it before a new image came into focus in her mind.
She was standing beside a hospital bed, Shaw on the other side. They looked down at the sleeping man between them. Root didn't recognize him, but she could see that he was familiar to Shaw. The man had short-cropped black hair, salt and pepper stubble, and a muscular frame.
"What's wrong with him?" Root asked quietly.
Shaw gave her a tight nod. "Car accident. Internal bleeding. Broken bones. Severe concussion."
"Ok," Root sighed. "What's the spell? What do I say?"
"Nothing. Just-" Shaw scowled. "Help me navigate these damn machines. I can't tell what's human or technology."
That made Root smile. "Well, good thing I'm here then. Somehow."
She stepped to the side and put her hands on the machines. They were different than the ones she knew well, but a machine is a machine. Closing her eyes, she took a breath, trying to imagine how it was put together.
She didn't feel the electricity as component parts; the current simply seemed to flow through her like an extension of the magic that coursed through her veins. Following that feeling, she moved along the wires, along the currents, until she reached a different kind of current. It was thick and heavy and metallic, filling her mind with the same smell that filled Shaw's study.
"Got it," Shaw's voice muttered from somewhere inside of Root. "Too many fucking wires for me."
There was a tug at Root's chest, light at first and then painfully sharp. It was like a cord unraveling inside of her, draining her. She felt exhausted, more than she ever had before. Her legs dropped out from under her and her lips separated from Shaw's, bringing the real world back into sharp relief.
It took her a moment to realize that the drop had hurt her knees. When she could breathe again she looked up at Shaw. Her hair was no longer plastered to her. Instead, it floated around her in an invisible wind. Sparks seemed to fly from the tips of each strand, raining down on the ring of blood around them.
Shaw's eyes had fogged over, her dark brown irises covered by a woolly layer of white. Root wondered if all the stars had left her eyes to fly out of her hair. Dimly, through her exhaustion and the pain in her knees, she hoped some stars had stayed in Shaw's eyes. Root loved the way they shone.
After a moment that seemed like eternity, Shaw's hair fell and so did she, landing heavily in the same way as Root. The candles burned out suddenly, leaving them bathed in moonlight. Shaw swiped her hair from her face with a snort of annoyance.
"There," she sighed. "That should keep him alive until he can have his surgeries. Probably help him through them."
Root grinned, exhilarated. "That was magic!" she cheered. "Real magic! I could feel it in my blood. It was- It was just like I remembered!"
Shaw blinked, apparently seeing Root for the first time. "What? Remember what?"
"When I was young, a witch gave me a hot drink and I swear it felt just like this! Of course," she said thoughtfully, "this was much more intense than that! Wow! We have to do this again!"
"Of course," Shaw muttered, rolling her eyes. "Of course you were gifted magic by a traveler. Couldn't have gone on a quest like the rest of us."
"A quest?" Root repeated, leaning forward. "What kind of quest?"
Eyeing her skeptically, Shaw lifted her hand, waving it casually in front of Root's face. Her lip stung for a moment. She touched the cut she'd just made and found that it was healed. She gasped.
"You have to teach me that! Do you use magic for your work? How long have you been a witch? What was your quest?"
Shaw sighed loudly. "I can't do this now. Or ever. Just… be quiet. For a minute."
Root took in the tightness around her eyes and the way her shoulders slumped. Obviously, this spell had taken a lot out of Shaw. Shifting to sit on her butt instead of her knees and smiled.
"So," she started, bracing herself for the answer, "who is he?"
"A friend," Shaw answered, giving Root a enigmatic look. She frowned. "Thanks. I guess. For the help."
Root shimmied her shoulders. "Does it always feel like that?"
"Yeah."
"Good."
They sat silently for a couple of minutes, Root watching Shaw and Shaw taking slow breaths. She didn't want to say anything that would make Shaw kick her out of the house, but she was so curious about the man in the hospital and why Shaw would attempt such an intense spell on her own. She still had so many questions. Looking at her hands, she realized the bone knife was gone. Had it become part of the spell? Did it just vanish? Was it because it wasn't a good enough bone? Or was it the power of the spell that had destroyed it?
Shaw glanced at her and chuckled, shaking her head. "Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"You're practically vibrating with excitement. It's just a spell."
Root's mouth dropped open. "Just a spell? Sameen! We were in the hospital! I went into the machine! You- You kissed me and took my energy! How did you do that? Can you teach me?" She gasped, hands jumping out to grab Shaw's shoulders. "Please! Can you teach me? What was that tea I drank when I was young? I'll fix your AC for the rest of my life! Anything you want! I'll do it!"
"Stop," Shaw snapped, her exhaustion clear on her face. "Stop begging. It's just sad. I don't need a servant."
The last of Root's energy left her and she let her hands fall from Shaw's shoulders. After all her years of searching, she'd finally found a witch. She should have known that wouldn't be enough. A witch wouldn't want to teach someone like her.
Shaw eyed her for a moment before rolling her eyes. "Whatever." She sniffed, annoyed. "I don't need a servant...but I guess I could use an apprentice."
It took Root a second to process what Shaw had said. She blinked, trying not to get excited. "An apprentice?"
"You might," Shaw started, stars dimly twinkling in her eyes again, "might have some uses besides basic appliance repair."
"I have a lot of uses!" Root said defensively even as a grin spread across her face. "I'm great company, and a fast learner." She winked. "You know that."
Sighing, Shaw seemed to already regret the invitation. "We'll see. For tonight… It's late. You can stay over."
Root wasn't sure if she was more shocked by the invitation to sleep over or the invitation to become a witch's apprentice. "What? In here?"
"Yes, Root. You're sleeping inside my casting circle." She rolled her eyes and started to climb to her feet. "No, dummy. In my bed." She held a finger up before Root could say anything. "No ideas."
Pouting, Root stood up. "That's no fun. I guess we'll have plenty of time, though. You're stuck with me now!"
Shaw released another long-suffering sigh. "Great. Well, apprentice? Are you going to start my bath?"
"Yes, Master!" Root gave her a mock-serious salute. She offered her arm to Shaw. "This is fun. You'll be in charge when it comes to magic, and I'll be in charge when -"
"That's enough." Shaw gave her an amused look, taking her arm. "I'll have to punish you for insubordination."
"Promise?"