The Realm and the Writer

The setting of the sun had left the damp air cool, it brushed along the skin like soft hands. The lights of the old Sutton place had popped on the moment Eliza stepped of the LeBeaus front step. She could feel the energy of the place, it seemed as if it where breathing, coming and going at a slow rhythmic pace. The small grey tabby spotted her in the shadows and turned up the steps, disappearing into a gap in an open window. Eliza grasped the wand she carried in her skirt pocket. She had to be ready for whatever forces lurked within. With a deep breath she rapped on the front door, she could hear scuffling beyond and the sound of soft voices. The door came open with a slow squeak and a sweet voice and smiling face greeted her.

"I've been expecting you!" The voice came quickly and excitedly from the smaller woman in front of her. "When we visited this house via channel last week I sensed another presence. I told my husband at once that this was the place to be." The woman stepped aside and let Eliza enter the, already furnished, foyer. She slipped her cloak from her head and gazed about with interest.

"Well then. Pray tell, which channel did you visit on?" Eliza turned a speculative gaze upon the woman who, astonishingly, did not show any alarm what-so-ever.

"The moor," she said casually. "We've been moving around for years and finally decided to take up a residency. The other dimensions real estate agent highly recommended this area." The woman scooped up the small grey tabby and cuddled it close. "I hope sage didn't cause to much alarm. We've been trying to train her as a proper familiar for a couple years but she's much to free spirited." The look of concern on the woman's face startled her, but Eliza felt a sense of relief at finding out the source of the woman's inquest.

Eliza breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed into a hall chair. "Oh my! You must have thought we we're from the scourge. I'm so sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier, but we wanted to invite you over for tea." The woman had sat dawn next to her quietly. "I'm Rebeka Covven, and my husbands name is Ethan, I'm so very happy to finally meet you." She held out her hand to Eliza. They shook hands and chatted until the clock rang one. Eliza excused herself and headed home, glad to put this worry out of her mind. The townsfolk, on the other hand, would be another matter entirely, she thought. How could she possibly convince the town that two witches could be better than one?