The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches

by Sangu Mandanna

(Primrose, of course, was an exception to the Rules. Mika supposed it was just one of the many privileges of being the oldest, most powerful, and most bossy.)

“We’ve talked about this,” said Jamie mildly. “Murder can’t be your first choice every time you don’t like something.” “You’ve talked about it,” Terracotta replied. “I still think it’s a good first choice.”

He thought somewhat wistfully of Altamira, who asked things like, “Why is the sky blue, Jamie?” and of Rosetta, who was all “But why didn’t either Romeo or Juliet even check for a pulse?” and wondered why Terracotta never asked him easy questions.

“It’s complicated,” he said out loud. Terracotta wrinkled her nose. “Grown-ups never say that about good things.”

Her eyes very round, seven-year-old Altamira said, with perfect gravity, “That was some excellent Mary Poppins shit right there.”

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.