Parakeets & Pentagrams

Chapter 2-1

2

The farmers’ market was one of the highlights of my weekly routine. I could supplement what I grew in my own garden and pick up some treats. It was also pleasant to get out of my house and see other people, even if they weren’t nearly three-hundred-year-old witches.

The downtown of Dove’s Creek was a good twenty minutes from my house, but the drive wasn’t so bad. As someone who’d grown up during colonial times, I didn’t think I’d ever take cars for granted.

I also had to admit, it was nice to take a break from the animals. Though spending too much time among other people made me miss them. It was comforting to know they were there for me to come back home to.

I found street parking near the farmers’ market and got out of my car. It was a gorgeous day, and there were tons of people, including ones I rarely saw.

Since I’d lived in this town longer than literally everyone else present, I’d watched many of them grow up. I’d even watched their parents and grandparents grow up. I supposed that was part of the reason why I found their drama interesting despite myself. It was like watching a soap opera that never ended.

I was happy to see Nellie talking to someone who was selling pies. She caught my eye and waved, rosy cheeks cheerful as usual.

“Hey, Tab,” she said.

She was one of the few who was allowed to call me that.

“Hey.” I smiled at her. Nellie Highland was the only other witch I knew of in Dove’s Creek, and probably the person I was closest to.

She gave me a hug—she was a hugger, definitely—and pulled away. I’d seen her just yesterday, since we were neighbors, so we didn’t have to waste time with further greetings.

“Did you hear about the divorce?” she said in a loud whisper.

“Shh!” I put my finger to my lips and pulled her to a less populated corner of the street. “We’re not trying to air other people’s dirty laundry.”

Nellie rolled her eyes. “It’s the only thing anyone’s been talking about! No one’s even pretending.” She waved her hand at the rest of the crowd at the market.

I listened for a moment. She was right. I couldn’t help but catch whispers of “Greenley” and “punched ‘im right in the face!”

She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “You sound like you have an opinion about it.”

“It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened in like, a decade,” said Nellie. “I heard it happened because Peter Greenley was going crazy.”

“Crazy? What does that even mean?”

“Like, he was behaving strangely. He suddenly was super interested in the outdoors and he wasn’t treating Shelley very well. It was like a switch flipped after they got married.” Nellie tugged my hand so we could continue perusing the stalls.

“I didn’t realize there was such a strong reason for it to happen,” I said, thinking of how Charlie would screech in delight when I told him this new nugget of gossip—then, in a haughty voice, immediately deny he’d been interested at all.

“I mean, Shelley’s brother Shaun punched him in the face, so…” Nellie trailed off. “There had to have been strong reasons all around.”

I didn’t know what to make of it. It certainly sounded like there was more to the story than anyone knew, but I wasn’t too interested in digging further. I had my limits when it came to gossip.

“Tabitha, Nellie,” said a kindly voice, and I was broken out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Mr. Graves.

I called Mr. Graves “Mr.” even though I was much older than him because it just seemed right. I’d been traveling for a long time in the early twentieth century, during which he and many of the other elders of the town were born, so I hadn’t gotten to watch him grow up. He was one of the few people I knew who seemed to have simply sprung into adulthood.

Before I could greet him back, he made a wheezing cough. For the last few years, his health had been taking a slow but steady downturn. It was incredible he’d lasted this long.

It was one of the bitter aspects of being an immortal—watching mortals fade away before your very eyes. I should have gotten used to it, but I wasn’t. Maybe I never would be.

“It’s always good to see you, Mr. Graves,” said Nellie politely. “How have you been?”

“Alright, alright,” he said, waving a hand dismissively, though he took a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his eyes. “You need more carrots for the bunny patients?”

Nellie laughed. “No, they’ve recovered and have gone back to the rescue. Now I’ve got a goat without an appetite to care for.”

“A goat without an appetite?” Mr. Graves’ bushy eyebrows rose and I could actually see his blue eyes.

Nellie shrugged. “I know, it’s very strange.”

Nellie was a veterinarian, and when she’d arrived in town for the first time I’d let her set up her practice on part of my property down the road. We became fast friends due to our mutual interests and status as witches.

She was much younger than me and different in outlook and demeanor, though, having been born in Philadelphia during the early 1840s. I had only been to big cities a few times and preferred to avoid them.

Now she was the best-known and most well-regarded vet in the area, though people didn’t know a lot of her success was due to her fusion of Western medicine, traditional healing, and magic spells and potions.

While she continued to chat with Mr. Graves, I decided to pick up some of his summer squashes. They were always the best-looking in the market.

I handed him my card and watched as he swiped it carefully on an attachment to a tablet.

Maybe it was because I was a witch, but I didn’t find technology difficult to use. It was strange, certainly, and beyond what I could have conceived of as a child—almost like magic unto itself. I was born before the American Revolution, after all. But even as I watched elder humans become worse at using new technologies, I retained the ability to learn them myself. I’d heard there were even some witches in the magical realms who had combined the two.

“Here you are,” said Mr. Graves, handing my card back to me.

“Thank you,” I said with a smile, and Nellie and I continued walking.

“Isn’t that Charlie?” said Nellie, looking into the sky and shading her eyes.

Two golden streaks approached, aimed right for me. My familiars didn’t like to show themselves to the people of town often because they tended to draw attention, so this must have been something urgent.

I stretched my hand out and Charlie alighted on it, while Charlotte circled overhead.

“You need to come back to the property,” he said, agitated, his feathers pressed sleek against his body.

“What happened?”

“Erm, a body,” he said. “Like, a dead body. Some of the forest birds told us about it.”

I was suddenly glad that no one else could understand what he was saying. His chatter would sound like the chirping of any other bird, though his bright colors were already starting to attract attention.

I took Nellie’s arm and pulled her with me as I turned right around and walked back to my car. When we’d escaped the crowd in the market, I told her what Charlie had said.

“Really?” she said, astonished. Charlie continued to look anxious, his eyes darting everywhere.

“I guess so,” I said. “Charlie, did it look like anyone we know?”

He started lifting one foot, then the other, like he couldn’t stand with both of them. “Yes,” he said. “It was Peter Greenley.”