A Witch's Guide to Magical Innkeeping

by Sangu Mandanna

It was hardly ideal weather for the resurrection of one’s great-aunt, but Sera Swan’s magical power, while impressive, hadn’t the slightest influence over the obnoxiously blue skies. Autumn had only just arrived in the northwest of England, bringing with it an unseasonably merry sky, leaves of toasted gold and burnt orange, and, most distressingly, the corpse in the back garden.

“Marvellous work,” Clemmie said to Sera. “I was just thinking this morning that what we really needed in our lives was not a new fireplace or a nice car but, in fact, a resurrected fucking rooster.”

She could feel that where that infinite sky had cradled her magic before, keeping it safe, it was now full of exit wounds that were quietly, relentlessly bleeding stardust.

Nicholas, on the other hand, had the courage of a lion, the lovability of a puppy, and the common sense of a goldfish.)

Meanwhile, across the country, a certain innkeeper was about to discover that when you hold tight to the little magic you find, when years go by and the world loses much of its colour and still you refuse to forget the magic, magic will go out of its way to show you that it remembers you too.

Visiting her past wasn’t exactly a pleasant stroll down memory lane. It was a lane of teeth, crooked and sharp, and the pleasant stroll was more of a panicked scramble to find what she needed without slicing herself open on the sharpest edges.

Apparently, with Nicholas, there was no middle ground between a duel and undying devotion.

Sera had always been good at fortitude. Fortitude was her friend. She had fortituded her way through undependable parents, megalomaniac mentors, scheming foxes, the death of a loved one, the resurrection of said loved one, the loss of her magic, and quite a large number of fiascoes big and small since then. Unfortunately, she and fortitude seemed to have now parted ways because Sera, glaring fearsomely at an empty glass teapot, was at her wits’ end. Nothing was working.

Is the house a TARDIS? Is that why it’s so much bigger on the inside?”),

And yet, for some reason, it felt like that was exactly where they were supposed to be. Like this was a thing that had, somehow, become important. Like his lonely and her lonely fit perfectly into the empty spaces at the other’s side, saying nothing, asking nothing, just keeping each other company.

Theirs was a friendship built on the unspoken, shared understanding that you can love the home you’ve made with the whole of your heart and still know the land it’s built on will never claim you.

When I sneak up on people, they call me a villain, but I’m supposed to believe it’s acceptable when love does it?”

His eyes were flames of the fiercest, iciest cerulean. She had forgotten that the hottest part of a fire burns blue.

“That was inspiring,” Matilda said admiringly. “If I wasn’t gay and your grandma, I’d be very attracted to you right about now.”

This is the life I wanted. This life of contentment and unexpected excitement, of little everyday joys, where I don’t just get to be myself but also get to be embraced as myself. It’s miraculous.”

“No, if we were together, I don’t think I’d be able to stand not seeing you all the time, but I’d try to stand it. It couldn’t be worse than not being with you at all.”

“I can’t quite believe I’m about to say this, but, er, have you considered that magic isn’t everything?” Howard had even lowered his voice like he was afraid magic would hear him.

“You’ve got the bug-eyed, jittery look of a meerkat that’s eaten an entire bag of sugar.”