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chapter three: take my hand

The sun was beginning to rise when Charlie finally fell asleep. He had spent hours reading his dad’s letter by the light of his bedside lamp. He would look up only to pick up the book instead and flip through its thick pages. He would read just enough to freak himself out, then chuck it away from him again before returning to the letter. Only then he would forget his fear, forget not to be curious, and repeat the action over and over until his eyes were heavy and the pages slipped from his grasp.

The next day was Saturday, but he didn’t leave the house at all. He kept to his room and tried to do some coursework, read exactly two and a half pages of a novel, watched approximately fifty mindless YouTube videos—did anything he could think of that would prevent him from picking up that book or thumbing over that letter yet again.

By the evening time, he had stopped even really reading his dad’s words. Now, he sat in his bed, merely tracing each hand-written letter with his fingertips, imagining his dad sitting down at the desk in the corner, writing them for him.

On Sunday morning, Charlie forced himself to go downstairs and eat breakfast with his grandmother. It was rare she was home at that time of the day and he did feel a bit bad about not utilising his time with her. They sat comfortably together at the kitchen table, spreading jam and crunching toast.

His phone made its first noise of the weekend as he was cleaning the plates. Charlie wiped his hands on a tea towel and fished his phone from his jeans.

NICK (9:24): Morning! How was your Saturday?

Charlie’s heart flipped over. He glanced around. Had Kathleen clocked his undoubtedly lovestruck expression?

That was how it began. 

It didn’t take long for Nick to convince Charlie to meet him at the park. The promise of dog cuddles wasn’t needed to seal the deal but Charlie would take those, too. Kathleen seemed thrilled when he asked her if he could go and meet a friend and she waved him off with a package of sandwiches to share. He had rolled his eyes and scoffed, but was secretly pleased.

It turned out that Nick only lived about a ten minute walk away from Britannia Road, and a neighbourhood park sat somewhere between the two. Nick greeted him with only slightly less enthusiasm than Nellie—and with a lot less slobbery kisses (unfortunately). After a quick game of fetch with a frisbee, the three of them set off on a walk along the river. They stopped at a bench to eat the sandwiches—which turned out to be cheese and pickle which Charlie hated but Nick loved.

The strangest thing about the whole day was the fact that Nick just seemed happy in Charlie’s company. And the second strangest thing was that Charlie had not once thought about the book or his father’s letter all day. 

He had remembered magic existed once or twice, however—when their hands touched or when Nick looked at him for more than a few seconds, when he patted his shoulder, when he brushed bread crumbs off his cheek… In those moments there was no doubt in Charlie’s mind that magic existed. This made sense. This felt good.

But once again that night, Charlie found himself wrapped up in bed, lamp on, his family’s grimoire open on his lap. For that’s what the book was, he knew, as much as he hadn’t wanted to admit it. The Spring family grimoire.

Towards the front of the volume, he found a page titled The Binding Ceremony.

He studied the inky black illustrations of eight crude stick figures drawn around a simplistic bonfire. There was little written about the ceremony, and none of it in English. Perhaps Tara’s grimoire had more details.

Nonetheless, his dreams that night were full of fire.

That hadn’t happened since the first week after his dad’s death. He never actually saw the fire which had consumed his home, only the remains—and they had been bad enough.

He woke early the next morning, his cheek pressed against the pages of the grimoire. Half asleep, he frowned down at the page he had been resting on. This one included a drawing of a candle. It was more of a scribble, really, in the corner as if someone had added it as an afterthought. Beside it were the words: Give me light.

Charlie looked up at the fireplace opposite his bed, at the candle sitting on the mantel. “Give me light,” he whispered.

Nothing happened.

He gave his head a little shake. This was so stupid.

With a sigh, he tried for some more conviction. “Give me light.”

The wick stayed waxy and white. Charlie closed his eyes and focused: “Give me light.”

Light poured into the room. Charlie flung open his eyes.

But the candle was still dull and unused. The light was too strong for that, anyway. Charlie looked around and saw his curtains had opened. The light bathing his room was in fact that of the rising sun.

A laugh escaped his throat. His breath caught.

Had he done that?

Not the sun, he told himself as he got up and ready for the day. The curtains maybe, but he hadn’t made the sun rise and shine, of course he hadn’t. He wasn’t Darcy, who could apparently call upon the elements at will. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be able to do that. What would be the point?

Uniform on, he tucked the grimoire and the letter safely back into their compartment in the fireplace. He was just double checking his school bag was packed when he saw movement through the window. James appeared in his window across the way. His hair was in wild disarray and, this time, he was the shirtless one. Charlie watched him push open his, then waved. “Morning.”

James jumped. His cheeks flushed bright red as a look of pure terror shot across his face.

Immediately, Charlie cursed his own actions. He could definitely empathise with how disconcerting it was to realise you had been observed without your knowledge. “Curtains!” he cried. “Close! Now!”

James’ window shut with a slam and shattered.

Charlie could only stand there and stare at the mess he had made. He grabbed his curtains and yanked them closed. He threw the rest of his books into his bag, slung it over his shoulder and hurried from his bedroom.

Downstairs in the hall, he flung his coat on and was halfway out the door when Kathleen appeared from the kitchen.

“Don’t you want some breakfast?”

“N-no, thanks,” Charlie managed. “I’m going to be late.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yep. I’m fine. Just… frazzled.”

Kathleen frowned and sighed. “Charlie, I know this hasn’t been easy, losing your father, moving away from home, but I am here for you if you want to talk about anything.”

Charlie chewed at his lip. His grandmother’s face was lined with kindness and wisdom and he owed her a lot. “I really am going to be late,” he heard himself say. “Sorry.”

And he hurried out the door.

✨

“For fuck’s sake,” Ben snapped. “Do you think he saw me?”

James ran a hand through the mess that was his hair and considered whether he’d be able to clean up the glass before his aunt and uncle woke up. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened around Ben, but luckily most of the time Ben only cared about himself. If he suspected that odd things often happened around James, he didn’t care.

That was Ben’s thing. Not caring. Unless it directly affected him.

James drew the curtains and turned to find Ben reaching for him from the tangle of his bedsheets. “We can go again,” said Ben, kissing along James’ hip. “We have time.”

“We don’t.” James pulled away. “You need to get out of here before my aunt and uncle wake up.”

“Ugh!” Ben flopped back over dramatically.

“You’re the one who doesn’t want anyone to know you spend half your nights in my bed.”

It had been three months and somehow James had fallen into this monotony with Ben. To start with it had been fun, spending the final days of Year 12 living for those secluded moments when they could kiss and explore each other. At first it had been a revelation, that Ben Hope of all people might be into him.

Every day James inched closer to ending things. And every day he told himself this would be the last time.

But Ben was nothing if not clingy.

By the time James had showered and changed, Ben had gone from his room, as if he had never been there at all. James sighed and scrutinised the window again. He closed his eyes and focused on the shards of glass scattered across his carpet. A moment later, he opened them again and the glass was back in the frame. A few cracks remained and it wasn’t exactly straight, but it was better than nothing.

As he ate some breakfast, he decided he wasn’t mad at Charlie. How could anyone be mad at him? The new boy had a certain air about him that just made you like him, respect him and want to look after him. Nick hadn’t been exaggerating when he said James got a crush on every boy he met. The thing was, usually they were straight. Or aro/ace.

Isaac greeted him cheerfully from the front desk of the school library. He was always the first one there, even on Monday mornings.

“So,” said James, as they set off to empty the returns trolley. “Did things work out with Charlie and you lot?”

“Us lot? You’re a part of this, too, James.”

“Hmph.” Sometimes it didn’t feel like it. Not to the same extent as the others. He had his own friends, his own life—one which didn’t revolve around magic or his coven. He and Isaac were friends, but he wouldn’t say they were best friends or anything. They mostly talked about books and complained about the noisy Year 7s who hogged the library computers. “Is he going to bind the coven with us, then?”

Isaac sighed. “Things were delicate enough before Darcy went and scared the shit out of him with that storm. But eventually, he’s going to have to.”

✨

Nick woke to the sound of all six of his rugby trophies falling back onto their shelves with a clatter. One toppled off and jolted him awake.

Instead of picking it up, he lay back down and stared at the ceiling, remembering yesterday in all its hazy fondness. Every time he saw Charlie, he was so scared he would find a reason to drop him as a friend, that he would remember how creepy and weird the whole witch coven thing was and run away screaming. But, Nick reminded himself, he hadn’t. They had spent almost the entire day together. 

It had kind of felt like a date.

He let out a sigh. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep now. He turned off his alarm, picked up the fallen trophy and sloped into the bathroom for a cold, cold shower. 

When Nellie was fed and walked, he set off for the tea room. He had been perfecting a new raspberry cheesecake recipe and was eager to see how it had set. He was just peering into the large fridge in the cafe’s kitchen when his mum appeared from the back door.

“Nicky,” she said. “What are you doing here? You know how I feel about you working before school.”

“I just wanted to check…” He pulled the tin out and removed the foil cover.

“Oh, baby, that does look fantastic. Why don’t you wrap some up and take it into school?” Sarah raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Into form?”

“But it would get all smushed.” Nick searched around for a cake stand and carefully slid his creation onto it. “What do you take me for? I can’t bring Charlie smushed cheesecake.”

Sarah laughed. “I’m sure he’d be nothing but thrilled.”

“Hmm… Mr Farouk would probably have something to say about it. Are you trying to get me in trouble, mum?”

“Well then, surely your old mum gets the first slice?”

“Fine.”

They grabbed a couple of forks, then settled down at the table in the corner to sample a generous slice each.”

“This really is incredible, Nicky,” said Sarah, licking her fork. “And just the thing too, with the market coming up on Saturday.”

Rochester had a pretty extensive street market once a month, and each month the tea room was swamped with customers. This was a good thing, of course, but at the same time, utterly exhausting.

“So,” said Nick. “What’s going on between you and Tara’s mum?”

“What do you mean?”

“Things seemed kind of intense in here on Friday night. When Charlie was here.”

Sarah set her fork down and mopped at her mouth with a napkin. “Pauline and I have never really gotten on. It’s been the same way since we were teenagers. Nothing to worry about.”

Nick frowned. He had always thought of Tara’s mum as very similar to his own; kind, firm when she needed to be, and with a good sense of humour. Maybe that was the problem—they were too similar.

“Goodness, baby, you’re going to be late,” said Sarah, glancing at her watch. “You don’t want to miss your favourite time of the day.”

“What?”

“Come on, chop chop, your Charlie will be waiting for you.”

“He isn’t mine .” Nick slung his school bag onto his shoulder and hoped his mum couldn’t see his blushy cheeks.

“Not yet.”

“Mum!”

✨

Despite being in charge of an entire school, Richard was not a morning person. A slice of toast in his mouth, he piled his things into his bag with one hand while the other stirred his coffee. He had dropped far too much milk in it, ruining his morning and his life. 

“Elle!” he yelled through his mouthful of toast and marmalade. “We’re late!”

His daughter entered, arms crossed, uniformed and bag packed. “I’ve been waiting at the door for like five minutes. You’re late.”

Sometimes Richard missed the days when Elle would laugh at his jokes. Now he was lucky if he got an affectionate eye roll. He munched down the rest of his toast and tried to down his milky coffee. “Isn’t that skirt a little short?”

There it was, that eye roll. She pulled her skirt down a little. “So stupid,” she grumbled. “If they didn’t want people to roll their skirts up then they should make better skirts that hang nicely.”

“Hmph,” said Richard, abandoning his coffee. He would just make another when he got to work. “Well, I am the head teacher and you are my daughter so we need to set a good example.”

“That’s not my fault,” said Elle. “I don’t even go to your school anymore. And besides, no one at Truham knows you’re secretly a slob—they’re literally the only people who see you all buttoned up.”

“I’m the boss. I need to be buttoned. Oh, wait a second, Ellie, I forgot I need to get the thingy from the thingy…”

“The thingy… right…” Elle shook her head as her dad disappeared into his office. “I’ll just wait in the car then!”

She opened the front door and was shocked to find a man standing on the step outside. “Grandpa!” Her jump of fright turned into a leap of excitement and she threw her arms around him.

He squeezed her back, chuckling. “How are you doing, sweet pea?”

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s lonely by the lake all by myself.”

Richard appeared at the end of the hall, and froze at the sight of the man stepping inside.

“Richard,” said Elle’s grandpa with a nod.

Her dad recovered quickly and nodded right back. “Hassan.”

“How long are you staying?” Elle asked.

“Not sure yet. I have some business to take care of here in town.”

“You’re retired,” said Richard.

“And? I wanted to see my granddaughter—and son-in-law.”

Elle observed the two men taking up space in the small hallway. The two of them had never gotten along. When she’d been little she’d found it kind of silly, funny even, how her two favourites could be so full of contempt for each other but never come to blows or shout. Now she was older, she did wonder what had happened for it to be this way.

“Well, I’m happy to see you,” she said. She gave her grandpa one last hug, then set out for the car.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Richard dropped his act at once. “Is everything okay?”

“If it’s not,” said Hassan, suddenly serious. “I’ll let you know.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“That’s gracious of you—considering this is my house.”

And then Richard couldn’t get out of the house quick enough. The second he reached his office at Truham, he picked up his phone and called Pauline. “Why is Hassan here?”

Pauline tsked loudly and he could practically see her shaking her head in exasperation. “I don’t know. He’s your father-in-law, not mine.”

“Could he be onto us?”

“I doubt it. We were very careful, we covered our tracks.”

“I don’t like it,” said Richard. “I don’t trust him at all.”

“You just don’t like him.”

“Because he doesn’t like me.” Richard leaned back in his chair and sighed. “He blames me for Mariam’s death, I know he does.”

“We all have to find someone to blame.”

“Just… keep your eyes open. Please?”

“Fine. Bye, Richard.”

✨

What with Nick’s morning chatter consisting only of memories of yesterday and the cheesecake he had successfully made and sampled, Charlie almost forgot about his destruction of James’ window. 

Almost. 

Twenty minutes later, the bell rang for the end of form and they had to part ways. Things felt so much better, so much less scary when Nick was by his side. Charlie watched him walk away down the corridor until he disappeared with a cheerful wave and Charlie had to head to the common room. He had free periods this morning and he was determined to get some work done.

By break time, he’d written half an essay and so rewarded himself with a walk to the vending machines on the other side of the room. He stood by, counting his change as the girl before him bent down to grab her drink from the tray. She turned to go, but saw Charlie, stopped and smiled.

“Hi,” she said. Her eyes were very large and very blue. “You’re the new boy, right?”

“Oh, um, yeah. I’m Charlie.”

“Imogen.”

“Hi.”

As he fed his coins into the machine, Imogen chatted his ear off about everything he could possibly need to know about Truham, its students and its teachers. “And if you need anything at all, like, help finding classrooms or which toilets to avoid, then you can rely on me.”

“Thanks.” 

Charlie flitted back to his desk and Imogen followed him, chattering all the while. “I’ve seen you talking to Nick, haven’t I?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Are you friends?”

“Yeah, well, we’re in the same form so…”

“Oh my God, you have a crush on him!”

“What? No, I don’t!”

“You so do!” She clutched at his arm in excitement, then dropped her voice. “Don’t worry. I completely understand. I had a crush on him forever before I finally got the courage to ask him out.”

Charlie stared. “You and he… dated?”

“Yeah. For like two months in Year 11, but please, please don’t worry about me—turns out we’re better as friends.”

Charlie let out a breath. “Even if I do have a crush—a big one—it doesn’t mean he likes me back. He probably doesn’t. I shouldn’t get my hopes up just because, for once, someone I have a crush on actually has the capacity to like me back, you know?”

“I dunno,” said Imogen. “You do seem like his type—dark hair, light eyes, kind of nerdy…”

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying, don’t give up hope. I’m rooting for you. You seem lovely and Nick deserves someone lovely.”

“Thanks.”

It took quite a while for Imogen to get her own coursework out and start working alongside him, but the chatter didn’t fizzle out completely. It was nice, her company was nice. She was good background noise, since she only seemed to require him to answer with short, quick bursts of “really?,” “mmhm” and “yeah.”

“So,” said Imogen, half an hour later. “Are you doing anything on Saturday?”

“Nope. Not unless you count coursework as something.”

“I was wondering… well, there’s a market in town this weekend and Mr Argent put me in charge of the school tombola. The performing arts department needs more funding and none of the smelly boys in this school wanted to give up their Saturday. I could really use some help.”

“Am I not a smelly boy?”

“Are you willing to part with your Saturday?”

Charlie considered this.

“Come on!” Imogen batted her eyelashes. “Please? It’ll be so boring on my own.”

“I suppose I can help. I really have nothing else going on.”

“Yay!” she cheered. “You’re not so smelly, after all!”

After all, it wasn’t like she was asking him to join some weird witchy cult. Imogen seemed very normal—chatty and overly cheerful—but normal. And that was just what he wanted his weekend to be.

On his way to third period, Charlie’s second offer of being social came in the form of Tao and Isaac cornering him by the lockers like two peas in a pod. 

“Are you free after school?” asked Tao by way of greeting.

Isaac rolled his eyes as if to say sorry about him. “What Tao means is, we’re having a film night at his tonight. Would you like to come?”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Is this another ploy to get me to join your cult?”

“Well…”

Isaac nudged Tao in the ribs before he could continue. “No,” he said. “We just thought you might be interested.”

“Please come,” said Tao. “I have a whole list of films I need to force you to watch. And we’ll probably just order pizza and it’ll be really chill and normal. No magic talk at all if you don’t want that.”

“And,” said Isaac, when Charlie still looked unsure. “Nick’ll be there.”

So… naturally, Charlie agreed to meet Tao, Isaac and the others at the end of the day so they could walk across town to Tao’s house together. 

Charlie really wanted to forget that day in the cottage, when his perception of these people changed. He half wished he could just bully his brain into believing them—because the enthusiasm with which each of them greeted him when he arrived… well, maybe he could accept a lot of things that didn’t make sense, that went against the laws of physics and logic, if he could accept these six people all wanted to be his friend.

Tao and Elle led the way, arms linked, followed by Tara and Darcy who walked hand-in-hand, Darcy chattering away about a game they had made up that lunch time involving the science corridor and an empty water bottle, Tara smiling and laughing, heart eyes aglow. Charlie stayed at the back, behind Nick and Isaac, who walked along quietly together. Isaac’s hands were empty of a book for a change.

“What happened to James?” Charlie asked.

Nick and Isaac turned around, as if only just remembering he was there. Nick reached out an arm and ushered Charlie to walk between him and Isaac. He gave his shoulder an awkward pat and Charlie couldn’t help but giggle. 

“James has his own friends,” said Isaac. “I did invite him, but he wasn’t interested.”

“Why?” Nick’s forehead crinkled. “Why did you ask?”

“Um, well…” Charlie shrugged. “I just saw he wasn’t here and he’s a part of your coven, isn’t he? I just assumed he would be here too.”

Nick looked at Isaac, his eyes wide with… panic? Charlie looked between the two of them in confusion.

Isaac sighed, rolled his eyes, then asked very slowly and plainly, “Did you want James to be here, Charlie?”

“What?”

Nick made a strange choking noise and quickly looked away. “Isaac…”

“Not specifically,” said Charlie. “What’s going on? I don’t understand.”

Isaac shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Charlie. Nick’s just being hopeless. And Nick, stop being a jealous dickhead, there’s no need for it.”

“Can we please just forget I said anything?” Nick whined. “Charlie, tell him.”

“I still don’t even really know what we’re talking about, so sure.” Charlie offered Nick a comforting smile, and he seemed to relax a little. “So… any news on that cheesecake of yours?”

“Oh my god, yes! Mum texted me earlier—it all got sold before midday so she’s had to make more.”

“That’s so cool, Nick.”

“You have to come and try some. I’ll get you a free slice—or a whole one if you want.”

Charlie laughed, then caught his own excessive volume and made an effort to shut up. Wow, he was so gone for this boy.

They piled into Tao’s house and were greeted by a grumpy Bean yowling for dinner.

“Aw, hi, Beanie-boy,” said Elle, scooping the cat into her arms. “You and Tao are so alike, hey?”

Tao pouted and Elle laughed, having been proved correct.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you some dinner,” said Elle, petting Bean’s fluffy head. The cat purred loudly as Elle carried him into the kitchen.

“Your cat is so cute,” said Charlie, as he followed the others into the living room.

“Hmph, and he knows it,” said Tao, though he seemed pleased.

Charlie sank onto the edge of a large armchair in the corner of the room and blinked in fuzzy alarm when Nick flopped down right beside him. He looked around and realised there was literally nowhere else for him to sit, their friends having occupied the sofa and the other chair, but still, Charlie would have liked a warning so his heart didn’t explode, please and thank you.

“Does your gran have any pets?” asked Nick.

“No,” said Charlie. “I’ve never had a pet. My dad didn’t like animals.” 

Nick looked so sad at this that Charlie felt the need to rectify it at once.

“Even if I had, it probably wouldn’t have survived the fire, anyway.” 

Charlie had well and truly misjudged how this thought might affect Nick’s sadness. He patted Nick’s knee and grimaced. “Sorry.”

“You can come and play with Nellie whenever you like,” said Nick, blinking several times quite fast.

“Oh. Um, okay. I’d love to. Thanks.”

Charlie was just trying to hide his blushy cheeks with his hands when he realised the rest of his new friends had fallen silent. Elle had returned and she and the others were all watching him and Nick, with disgustingly knowing looks on their faces.

“Um,” said Charlie, flustered. “I’m just gonna…”

“Help me with the drinks!” said Darcy, leaping to their feet. “Let’s see what we can find in Yan’s alcohol cupboard.”

Charlie let Darcy pull him from the room, into the kitchen where Bean was chomping away at his dinner. While Charlie found glasses, Darcy raided the topmost cupboard and gathered all the bottles they could find. 

Charlie laughed. “I think that might be a bit too much choice.”

“What? Oh, no, who said anything about choices? These are all going in the same glass.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“I dunno.” Darcy shrugged. “Let’s find out.”

Charlie perched on the counter and watched Darcy pour a seemingly unending variety of liquids into a cup and stir it. It turned into a sickly sort of green colour. They held it out to him. The smell hit him first. 

“I’m not drinking that,” he giggled. “You made it. You should taste it first.”

Darcy squinted down at their concoction, thought for a second, then took two big gulps. Charlie watched their face carefully, prepared to hold their hair back while they puked—but nothing… Until Darcy grinned. “It’s great! I am a genius. Are you sure you don’t want to try?”

In the end, Charlie tried half a sip and knew he had made the right decision. It was vile. He turned to the fridge and gathered the Coke, Fanta and Sprite bottles. Much safer options.

“Hey, Charlie,” said Darcy. They had hopped up to sit on the counter, their expression suddenly serious.

“What’s up? You’re not going to be sick, are you?”

“No. I don’t think so, anyway… No, I just…” They hesitated. “I know we said we wouldn’t talk about it but… do you really not want to bind the coven with us?”

Charlie forced himself not to roll his eyes. He reaffirmed his grip around the three large bottles in his arms and sighed. “I don’t even know what that really even means.”

“That’s the thing,” said Darcy, their gaze cast downwards at their socked feet. “None of us really know, either. And I… I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

“Really? But Tara is so gung ho about it.”

Darcy grimaced. “Yeah, I know. And I get why, I do. It’s just… doesn’t it feel a bit… icky to be bound to someone like that? Even if they are my friends. Tao was kind of shaken by that fire in the cafe, but he and Elle feel the same way. They don’t know if Tara’s got it right, either.” They lifted their head. “I’m just saying, you’re not alone in having reservations.”

“We’re ordering pizza!” came Tao’s shout from the other room. Darcy hopped off the counter and skipped from the kitchen. Charlie watched them go, thinking that even though Darcy had a point, the alternative was worrying, too.

An hour later, when the seven of them were lounging around the living room, eating pizza, a film playing on the television, it was easy to forget any of the reasons Charlie had told himself not to engage with these people. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent the evening surrounded by a group of friends who all seemed to like him. When was the last time he’d even been to a sleepover?

Isaac was curled in the other chair, his head in Morgan is My Name by Sophie Keetch. Tara kept looking between the television and Darcy on the sofa beside her, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Darcy and Elle were whispering together, heads bent forward. Tao hissed at them to be quiet, but then Elle ushered him into the fold and he fell into the conversation, too. This only seemed to worry Tara more.

The film of choice was slow, boring and the minimal dialogue was in Swedish. But Charlie didn’t really mind. He had much more favourable things to occupy his thoughts. He had managed two entire slices of pizza and he was feeling pretty warm and cosy. He and Nick were sitting, squished together in their shared armchair, and Charlie couldn’t stop thinking about the way Nick smelled, how warm he was beside him, the way his foot brushed his each time one of them moved. 

The whispers from the sofa increased and Charlie wondered for a hot second whether they were gossiping about him and Nick.

“What are you three whispering about?” asked Nick, as if he had read Charlie’s mind.

“Nothing!” said Darcy, quickly moving away from the others.

“None of your business,” said Tao.

Elle merely frowned, clearly deep in thought. 

Nick sighed and scooted off the chair. “Want to get another drink?”

“Okay,” said Charlie.

Back in the kitchen, Bean had disappeared, bowl licked clean. Nick put the kettle on while Charlie located mugs and tea bags. Charlie grabbed some teaspoons from the drawer, chuckling softly to himself. Nick glanced at him, amused.

“Ignore me,” said Charlie, shaking his head.

“I will not,” said Nick. “You can’t make me.”

Charlie grinned. “How did you know I fancied a cup of tea?”

“Oh, um, I didn’t. I should have asked first, sorry.”

“Nick, I literally just told you that’s what I wanted.”

“Right. Yeah, well, I must have just been able to sense it, then. Nothing better to calm me down than a nice cup of tea.”

Charlie frowned. “Why do you need calming down? What’s up?”

“Nothing,” said Nick. He let out a sigh and poured the water.

“Is it the others? Their whispering?” 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into them.”

“I do,” said Charlie. “They’re scared. That’s all.”

Nick squished the teabags and dropped them into the bin. “Doesn’t excuse them treating you like they have been.”

“I’m fine, Nick, really. I can look after myself.”

Nick turned to smile at him. “I know.” His cheeks were rosy, his hands clasped around his mug.

Charlie reached for his own tea, to stir it, but the spoon had vanished. “Wait, where—?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Nick.

Charlie followed his gaze. The two teaspoons had left the kitchen counter to float above their heads. Nick and Charlie stared at the spoons tumbling slowly, almost gracefully, in midair. They looked back down at each other and burst into giggles.

Nick reached for one spoon but it only rose higher. “Hey, come back,” he gasped, laughing.

Charlie made a grab for the other spoon but the pair drifted so high that they touched the ceiling. “Oh no, Nick, they’re getting away!” 

“I think maybe they’re happy up there,” said Nick, gazing at the cutlery fondly. “Maybe they’ve longed to see what it’s like.”

“It’s probably way more interesting than being shut in the drawer all the time.” Charlie picked up his tea and was considering getting another spoon to stir it with (would this one just join the others on the ceiling?) when — “Hey!”

Charlie jumped. 

The mug of tea in his hands exploded. 

“Ow, fuck!”

Hot tea splashed over him and shards of mug scattered everywhere.

Tao and Elle had appeared in the doorway, looking from the suspended spoons to the mess Charlie had made in alarm. Charlie stared at the slim cut the broken mug had made across his palm. The red swam before his eyes. He looked up at Nick—his face was pale with shock.

“Charlie, are you—?”

There was a tinkling clatter. The spoons dropped to the floor into the spilt tea. Charlie pushed past Tao and Elle and fled the kitchen.

“Charlie?” With a final glare at his friends, Nick hurried after him. 

He found him in the hallway, shrugging on his coat and gathering his bag. “Charlie, wait a minute.” Nick reached to touch his arm, but pulled himself back. “Please, just wait.”

Charlie swung his school bag onto his back and turned to face him. The fear and the shame was clear across his beautiful features. “I did that.” Charlie’s voice was hoarse. “Tao and Elle made me jump and I did that. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to… Why is this happening?”

Nick let himself step forward. He tentatively grasped Charlie’s arms and looked into his panicked blue eyes. He wanted to say because of magic, but he knew Charlie didn’t need to hear him say it again.  “Let’s just go somewhere else,” said Nick. “Get out of here. I can walk you home if you like or…”

“Or? I don’t really want to go back to my gran’s right now.”

“Or,” said Nick. “You could come to mine? My mum’ll be at the cafe until late so we’ll have the house to ourselves. And,” he added. “You can hang out with Nellie again.”

Charlie smiled weakly. “You had me at dog cuddles.”

“They really do fix everything.”

Nick gathered his own things and the two of them had left the house and were down the road before Nick realised they hadn’t so much as said goodbye to the others. He shot them a quick message in the group chat as they walked back through town.

“You’re shivering,” said Nick. “I would offer you my coat if I was wearing one and you weren’t.”

Charlie shrugged. “I just run cold, always have done. I’m fine. Thanks for the offer, though.”

It was nice, Nick thought, to walk with someone and not have to talk. Maybe he didn’t need a cup of tea to calm him down anymore, not when Charlie Spring was in his life. 

They turned the corner onto River Crescent and Charlie finally broke the quiet. “How do I stop it? Randomly breaking things?”

“Charlie,” Nick sighed. “You’re asking the wrong person. Before you arrived I was breaking shit all over the place. I tried loads of things: meditation, cutting out caffeine, breathing exercises, but none of it helped.”

“What about that grounding thing you taught me in the woods? That sort of worked before. I used it to stop the storm.”

“You did?”

Charlie nodded, as if this wasn’t a massive deal.

“I wish I could have seen it,” said Nick. “Sounded pretty badass.”

“Hmph.” Charlie blushed. “Maybe.”

✨

It was almost closing time and Sarah had just put another four raspberry cheesecakes in the fridge to set when Hassan Eskander stepped into the tea room. Now, instead of getting her place of work cleaned up so she could go home, Sarah was sitting at a table with a cup of tea going cold between her palms.

“She used a rune spell,” she explained. “I nearly drowned on the floor right over there.” She nodded to the spot but Hassan didn’t even look around. He had never been an expressive man. He let her words pass over him as if she had been describing the weather.

“That’s impossible,” he said. “Everyone in your coven was stripped of their power.”

“Then she found a way around that,” said Sarah. “To threaten me into silence.”

“But why would she be threatening you?”

Sarah sighed. “I was talking to Charlie Spring about his parents. She was clearly afraid I would say something stupid.”

“Did you?”

“No. Of course not. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish closing up so I can go back home to my son and my dog. Goodnight, Hassan. It was good to see you.”

✨

Even as he and Elle cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, Tao still didn’t really understand what they had done wrong. Had their sudden arrival really made Charlie jump so badly he smashed that mug? The full extent of Charlie’s magic was only just presenting itself, it seemed. When he’d momentarily brushed up against it at the cafe, Tao hadn’t known how to feel. It had been different, crackly, not like any of the others’ magic. Especially not like Elle’s. Hers was smooth and vibrant and kind of fluttery against his own.

Elle picked up the fallen spoons and frowned at them. “I don’t think I could make both of these float at the same time if I wanted to.”

“I’m not sure if Nick and Charlie wanted to,” said Tao. “I feel a bit bad. I invited him so he would feel more comfortable, more like one of us. But of course, I had to go and ruin it.”

Elle sighed. “You haven’t ruined it. We didn’t scare him on purpose. He’s just on edge, I suppose.”

Tao reached for Nick’s abandoned tea and took a sip. Then grimaced at the access of sugar. He tipped it down the sink as Tara, Darcy and Isaac entered.

“What happened? Did Nick and Charlie leave?” Tara folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. “What did you do?”

“Who says we did anything?” said Elle.

“Then why does Tao look so guilty?”

Tao took a breath and explained what had happened: how they had walked in on Nick and Charlie doing magic with spoons, how they had accidentally made Charlie jump, causing him to make his tea explode, how Nick had glared at them both before following Charlie from the house.

Darcy settled on the counter, deep in thought, while Tara and Isaac exchanged worried looks.

“We need to bind the coven,” said Tara. “As soon as possible. Charlie isn’t the only one who’s scared.”

Elle caught Darcy’s eye and an understanding passed between them.

“Am I about to find out what you lot have been whispering about all evening?” said Tara.

Darcy shifted awkwardly. “Well… the thing is…”

“We don’t want to bind the coven,” said Elle.

Tara blinked. “What? Why not?”

“Not if it means we’ll all be linked together.” Elle studied her nails. “No offence, but I don’t want anyone else having any say in what I can and can’t do.”

“That’s not what this is—”

“But how do you know? Just because you found some old scribbles from your ancestors, Tara, doesn’t mean you’re the authority on this.”

“I know that!” Tara took a deep breath. “I know, okay? I’m just trying my best with what we have—and things keep happening. It’s too risky not to bind. We’ll be stronger together. We can use it better together.”

“What for?” said Elle. “World peace? Why can’t we just enjoy it?”

“Because it’s dangerous and selfish,” said Isaac.

“Well, maybe I’m fine with that.”

Tao stared at her in shock along with the other three. The ticking of the kitchen clock was the only thing to break the silence. Elle seemed to realise what she had said, shrugged and looked away.

“Maybe Tara’s right,” said Tao. “The extra power has been nice but that fire didn’t exactly feel great. I could have hurt Charlie before we even got a chance to be friends. And tonight, we were lucky he only got a little cut.”

“I thought we were on the same page with this,” said Elle.

“We were, I just think maybe it would be safer if…”

Elle dropped the spoons onto the side. “Tao!” 

“I’m sorry—Elle, wait!”

The front door opened and shut before Tao could move. He stood there, dread smothering his rising panic.

Isaac patted Tao’s shoulder. “Let her cool down.”

“Darcy?” said Tara, quietly. “Do you feel the same?”

Darcy slid off the counter. “I just think we need to really consider what we’re getting ourselves into. We basically know nothing about this binding ritual. What if there are some freaky weird side effects? What if we all grow extra limbs or turn green? What then, Tara?”

She pulled Darcy into her arms and Darcy cuddled in close. “Then we’ll figure it out together like we always do.”

✨

“Boof!” said Nellie the moment Nick and Charlie stepped inside. “Boof!”

“Hi, Nellie!” Charlie bent to accept her excitable affection and buried his face in her soft fluff. “It’s good to see you again. Have you been such a good girl? You’re such a good girl!” 

A rough doggy tongue lapped at his hand and he remembered the cut. It wasn’t deep, but the blood had crusted. He clenched and unclenched his fist, wincing.

“We should probably clean that,” said Nick, kicking off his shoes.

Charlie let his hand fall to his side. “It’s fine.” He tried to distract by removing his coat and bag and hanging them on a hook. He discarded his shoes beside Nick’s.

Nellie whined, big brown eyes gazing up at him. Nick laughed. “Even Nellie knows you’re lying, Charlie. Come on, we have a first aid kit in the kitchen.”

He led the way through into the kitchen, and Charlie followed, whinging all the way. “I don’t need a first aid kit.”

“You need a plaster.”

“It’s not that bad, Nick, really. It doesn’t even hurt.”

Charlie sighed and leaned against the counter as moodily as he could. He watched Nick reach to bring down the box from the topmost cupboard, appreciating the view and secretly appreciating being cared for so attentively.

“Here,” said Nick. He tore open an antiseptic wipe and gestured for Charlie to hold out his hand. 

He rolled his eyes but did as he was told, heart thudding wildly. Nick gently dabbed at the cut. It stung a little but Charlie barely noticed. He suspected his cheeks must be bright red, though he noticed Nick’s were rather rosy too. 

“Thanks,” Charlie murmured when Nick was finally satisfied. He allowed Charlie to go without a plaster since the location was a bit impractical.

“You’re welcome, I suppose. Despite all the whinging.” Nick packed away the medical supplies. “Tea? We never got to finish our other cups.”

“Oh. Um… no, that’s okay. You have one, though.”

Once Nellie was sufficiently fussed, tea was made (their teaspoons stayed flat on the counter this time) and water was poured, they left Nellie to enjoy her dinner and brought their drinks upstairs into Nick’s bedroom. 

“Wow,” said Charlie. “Your bedroom is so cool. I like your fairy lights.”

“Huh, thanks,” said Nick. “I put them up for Christmas ages ago and forgot to take them down. It would feel weird if I took them down now.”

“You have so many rugby trophies!” Charlie perused the shelf above the television. “The only trophy I have is from a maths competition when I was nine.”

Nick smirked. “So it’s not a new development then? You being such a massive nerd.”

“Oh, I’ve always been this way,” said Charlie, giggling. He sank onto the bed beside Nick and set his water down beside his tea. “Gay nerd for life, baby.”

Nick made a strange noise; a mix between a laugh, a gasp and a cough. He leapt up from the bed and Charlie realised what he had said. And that it had gotten Nick flustered.

“Want to play Mario Kart?”

Good. This was good, Charlie thought as the game loaded. He could play Mario Kart. He could win every race. He could sit and laugh and tease his crush relentlessly, without fear of him taking offence or ditching him as a friend because of something he did or said. Whether he had a crush or not—though, there was no use denying it at this point—somewhere between Charlie stepping into Nellie’s Tea Room and right now, Nick Nelson had become the best friend he’d ever had.

“Come on!” he cried. “Can’t you just let me win one game?”

“You get to be good at real sports, I get to be good at fake ones.”

“No, you’re just good at everything,” said Nick. “Let’s see—you’re good at video games, maths, befriending dogs, and you probably are good at sport, too, you run really fast.”

“Stop it!” Charlie bowled them both over onto the bed, his hand over Nick’s mouth. “I’m crap at everything, I swear.”

Nick shook his head and made a muffled sound of discontent. Charlie giggled and let his hand fall away.

“I don’t believe you,” Nick whispered. His gaze drifted to Charlie’s hand, lying between them on the duvet. For a second, Charlie thought he was going to reach out and take it. 

For a second, Charlie considered taking his.

But then Nick rolled over onto his back and the moment passed. Charlie followed suit with a sigh. The fairy lights twinkled above their heads. Charlie half expected them to start shooting sparks.

And there it was, yet again, magic rearing its ugly, confusing head in Charlie’s thoughts.

“How did you find out you were a witch?”

Nick turned the TV off and chucked the controllers aside. “I was the last one Tara found before you. We were in Paris on a school trip at the end of Year 11. This guy in my year, Ben Hope, was being a dick to my cousin, James, and I maybe have sort of accidentally pushed him into the Seine.”

“Wait. James is your cousin?”

“Yeah,” said Nick. “His mum was my dad’s sister. But the thing is, I wasn’t close enough to even pretend I’d pushed Ben with my hands. Tara and Darcy were there and saw everything. They all ambushed me in the hotel room afterwards and told me everything.”

“And you believed them? Straight away?”

Nick shrugged. “Kind of. Not straight away, but pretty quickly, I suppose. I had done loads of smaller stuff by accident before then. Being a witch, it made everything that had happened make sense. And with their help, I managed to stop yeeting people into rivers, anyway.”

“Was he okay? The guy?”

“Oh, he was fine. Got the flu, I think, but serves him right. He’s a dick.”

Charlie lapsed into a contemplative silence. Nick rolled back onto his side and reached out to touch his arm. Just a light brush of fingertips, but it was enough to send each hair on end.

“Trust me,” said Nick softly. “I’ve broken a few mugs in the last year. My mum thinks I went through a super clumsy phase.”

“Have you not asked her about it? The magic stuff? You said she was a witch, too. Surely she could help.”

Nick shook his head. “I can’t. We’re not really supposed to be practising magic. Even if she was sympathetic, she could get in loads of trouble on our behalf.”

“Alright, alright,” said Charlie, turning over to face him. “But what about your grimoire? Have you looked for yours?”

“Of course. We’ve all searched our houses several times over, but never found anything. Tara found hers by accident. My mum’s hidden ours really well. But that makes sense, since magic was forbidden. She wouldn’t want anyone to find it, least of all me.”

“And magic was forbidden because of an accident. Tara said the people who died… they were…”

Nick winced. “Our parents, yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that. I just didn’t want to scare you any more than we already had.”

“It’s alright. It’s just… I never knew what happened to my mum. Only that she had some sort of terrible accident. And now I know it was magic that killed her… I assume it was magic anyway.”

“The official story is that a group of young people were partying in an old barn not far from here, and there was a fire. My dad was there, and Tara’s and Darcy’s and Tao’s and Isaac’s. Elle’s mum and both of James’ parents.” Nick frowned. “I’m beginning to think maybe that’s what we risk repeating, if we don’t bind our coven. That build up of excess power—maybe that’s what killed half an entire coven. Half of us… that would be…” Nick’s voice hitched and he swallowed. “I can’t even imagine what they must have gone through. It’s probably for the best that they didn’t do magic after that, but it tore the rest of them apart.”

“But what does it even mean, to bind the coven? What will happen?”

“Well, we’re not entirely sure of the specifics. Every witch is born into a coven, that’s what Tara’s grimoire says. Ours is made up of our eight families. A coven has more power than any one person can handle. Binding it is the only way we can utilise all that power by keeping it under control.”

“Darcy seems afraid it’ll… I dunno, take away their autonomy.”

“I suppose it might,” said Nick. “But only when it comes to magic; which I don’t think is a bad thing, personally.”

Lying there on Nick’s bed, his scent all around him, his soft, warm voice explaining these things, it seemed a little less overwhelming. Nick was so sincere about everything that Charlie couldn’t help but listen to and trust him.

“Whenever I’ve done bits of magic alone, it’s always been kind of scary and, like, I can’t control it,” said Charlie. “But then when we’ve done it together, it’s been fine. Great, even. I’ve liked it when we’ve done magic together.”

The rosiness of Nick’s cheeks grew. His eyes were so soft and brown, the freckles across his cheeks like golden stardust. “Me too,” he whispered. “But you don’t need me to do magic. With time, I promise, you’ll get better at not breaking things. Even without binding the coven.” He chewed at his lip for a moment, then, much to Charlie’s disdain, sat up. Charlie followed him hesitantly as Nick looked around his room. “There is one thing I can usually do without breaking anything.”

Charlie’s heart flipped over. “Show me.”

Nick reached between the bed and the bedside table. The fairy lights blinked out. Nick lifted the plug and brought it with him to sit beside Charlie on the bed again. He held it out for Charlie to take. 

“Are you serious?”

“Um, where is your can-do attitude?”

“Oh, she left long ago. Seriously, Nick, I don’t want to explode your lights.”

“You won’t.”

“I don’t know what I might do—I broke that mug because Tao and Elle snuck up on me, I broke James’ window. I break things—that’s what I do.”

“You stopped that storm. You stopped it from causing any more damage.”

“But that—I hated that, Nick. It didn’t feel good or—or safe. I barely knew what I was doing.”

“Hey.” Nick lowered his voice and Charlie took a breath. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I just… I hate seeing you so scared and I don’t know what else to do.”

“Take my hand.”

Nick blinked. He looked down at Charlie’s outstretched hand, then took it. His palm was warm and a little sweaty, though Charlie didn’t mind.

“Together, then?”

Charlie nodded.

“Okay,” said Nick. “I’m going to pick up the plug and then we’re going to turn the lights on. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

With his free hand, Nick picked up the plug. At once, that warm, blanketing sensation wrapped around Charlie and he gasped. Each of the lights across Nick’s ceiling twinkled into life. A shocked laugh escaped Charlie’s throat. 

Nick grinned, delighted. “Magic is flowing from us, through the wire, to the lights.” He laughed. “This is… better. Usually, when I do this on my own, I can only keep it up for like a minute at most.”

Charlie snorted. The lights flickered. He let Nick’s hand go and the fairy lights dulled once again. Nick held out the plug and raised a mischievous eyebrow.  “You think you can keep it up longer than me?”

“Is that a challenge, Nicholas?” Charlie took the plug and held it in both hands. He could feel the slight warmth of the three metal prongs.

“Concentrate on the power.”

Charlie sat cross-legged on the bed and closed his eyes.

“Do you feel it?” came Nick’s voice.

“Yes, I feel it. Now shush so I can focus.”

“Okay, sorry.”

The warm tingling seemed to stretch from the tips of his fingers, up his arms, down his back, until he shivered and Nick gasped. “Charlie. Open your eyes.”

He did as he was told, just in time to see the fairy lights flicker on… then off again. His breath caught. “Shit,” he gasped, shoulders tense.

“Okay,” said Nick. “Breathe.”

Charlie wished he would take his hand again. He was way too far away.

The lights flickered once more, glowing a soft yellow.

“Slowly,” Nick whispered. “Deep breaths.”

He tried, he really did. But his chest only tightened. Sweat prickled at his hairline and he screwed his eyes shut.

“Hey, no. Breathe with me, baby. You’re okay. It’s okay… Look at me.”

Charlie opened his eyes slowly, cautiously. The plug warm between his hands, he focused on Nick; his hair, his eyes, his nose, his lips… With their eyes locked, the fairy lights glowed brighter, steady and strong. Until they were a collection of mini, blazing suns. A thrumming beat, like the one inside his chest, filled Charlie’s hands. Through the plug, through the floor, through the earth and the sky and everything in between. He laughed. A breeze ruffled through the room, lifting their hair, like someone had left the window open on a spring day.

He barely heard the tiny explosions. But he felt the shift in power. 

He had it grasped between his fingers—and then it was yanked from him, like a wild animal desperate to fly free.

Charlie blinked up at the scorch marks now marring a pattern across the ceiling. He tossed the plug aside and scrambled to his feet. “Sorry,” he gasped. He trapped his hands under his arms where they could do no more damage. “I’m so sorry! I told you this was a bad idea. I’ll buy you new lights, I—”

Nick’s wide eyes softened. “Don’t worry about it. There’s no need to apologise.”

“But there is! I do! This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

And once again, Nick watched Charlie turn around and flee from the room, fear and shame clouding his blue, blue eyes.