Cassy Beauchamp was made of magic. Without magic she was just someone who poured drinks. She had been so good for so long; all of them had, and for what? What was the point of it posed to just live in the shadows and fade away? Act as if they were ordinary for the rest of their immortal lives?
Cassy thought of everything they had given up: flying, for one; she remembered how it felt, zooming through the skies, the wind in her hair. She missed the midnight capers in the woods as well, the powerful rituals that were taboo now that pagan was a bad word. The world had moved on, of course, that was to be expected; maybe it would have happened even without the restriction, but now they would never know. Like the rest of her family, she was stuck on this side of the bridge; far away from the main street, with no way to return home.
She made up her mind. She touched Ross's beer glass and added just a smidge of ginger root and lemon zest. Then she stirred it with the red straw from Becky's cocktail. The pint of beer turned a bright shade of pink for a split second. Now, this was definitely against the rules, this little concoction she had made, this little love potion. Sure, she had practiced a little magic before, here and there - that boy back in New York, that vampire's familiar she had healed, for instance. But that as in the East Village, where she had been fairly certain what little, insignificant, inconsequential magic she had performed had been artfully concealed and absorbed by the city's own kinetic energy.
This is a continuation free write prompt which turned into a short story novel. Perhaps, not so short anymore; anyhow hope you enjoy it. For previous prompts about Ingrid, the witch and her family; scroll below for each link
Ingrid Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18| Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21| Part 22