The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches

by Sangu Mandanna

“There’s so much magic around her, it’s like she’s on fire. Like the girls.”

It was almost implausibly perfect, an idyllic world painted with the soft gold strokes of the November sun.

the sea was the sea. It frothed and frolicked and had a beastly temper, but Mika would never wake up one day and find it gone. It knew all her secrets. It knew her. And it stayed.

There’s more than just tea in those leaves, she imagined herself saying. When you drink it, you take a bit of magic with you for a little while.

They hung back behind the adults a little, like they were either shy or unsure, but their faces were bright with interest and Altamira couldn’t stop bouncing up and down on the balls of her bare feet.

Cute!

At once, the drops of essence started to sparkle. Altamira gasped. The essence shone brightly, almost pure gold, and then subsided to a faint, scarcely noticeable glow.

She couldn’t fathom what it must be like to be so loved and to be so sure of that love that you would fight tooth and nail to protect it, but she was incredibly glad that these girls had that.

We’re part of the earth below us and the sky above us. Our veins echo the patterns of rivers and roots. There’s sunlight and moonlight in our bones.”

They were witches, they weren’t white, and they’d been born far away. Much as they might all wish otherwise, there would always be people who would question whether they were British enough, normal enough, anything enough.

“You could come, too,” Mika said to him, her brown eyes so bright they reminded him of looking directly into the sun.

Niceness is all about what we do when other people are looking. Kindness, on the other hand, runs deep. Kindness is what happens when no one’s looking.”

She hadn’t realised just how heavy her mask had been until she’d discovered what it was to live without it.

“Does it make it more or less magical if I tell you that, scientifically speaking, we’re all made up of stardust?” He didn’t even hesitate, raising his eyes to meet hers. “More. Definitely more.”

“You’re thirty-one, Mika. Do try to act like it. And if you would care for my opinion, perhaps you might choose a worthier penis next time.”

“I could have another hundred years with Ken and still want more,” Ian said simply.

“Mika has been so deeply hurt that she has taught herself to run before she can lay down roots, but the thing you have to remember, Jamie, is that when someone leaves, all you can do is leave a window open for them so that one day, if they choose, they can come back.”

1

what she wanted more than anything was people. Visitors she could befriend, friends she could help, a family she could share the thing she loved with.

I know there are real risks to witches gathering together, but if you ask me, it seems like magic, the force that binds you all together, doesn’t want you to be alone.”

People are usually like the sea, a constant, unerasable part of something bigger,

He could feel himself coming undone, a shattering between the pieces holding him together.

“The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches,” Terracotta said, grinning. “What do you think, Mika?” “I think it’s perfect,” said Mika, her heart too full to say anything more.

1

We know why you might leave for good. But we wanted you to know that we want you to stay. Not just for now. Always.

It’s a leap of faith to love people and let yourself be loved. It’s closing your eyes, stepping off a ledge into nothing, and trusting that you’ll fly rather than fall.

Danger rarely wore a monstrous face and a wielded a pitchfork. No, danger came most often in the form of people like Edward, the nice people whose niceness only went so deep, who saved their niceness for people exactly like them, who believed they were more deserving of power and respect than anyone who was a little bit different.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, the smile he only ever gave her, the one that crept slowly into his eyes and lit them up like the sun.

She, who had once believed she would never leave a mark on anybody, knew now that the marks she had left were unerasable, as much a part of forever as the sea. And, really, who could ask for more than that?