Joy of Witchcraft by Mindy Klasky

leaves still clung to the trees, their bright autumn shades faded to brown. I was grateful for my heavy wool coat.
    As always, my spirits were revived by the time I found myself on the crescent beach by the lake. My students waited with their warders and familiars, feet planted on the sand.
    Automatically, I looked across the water to a shattered oak and the massive osprey nest that filled its jagged branches. Some time in the past week, the raptors had migrated south for the winter. I found myself missing their sharp cries, waiting for the shadow of their wings as they headed out to snatch fish from the center of the lake.
    A distant rumble came from the far edge of the water. I fought a frown; I’d hoped not to hear the commotion. Trees were being cut down on the southern point of David’s property, old growth pine that he’d sold for a small fortune. The clearing was the first stage; next would be development of the property into high-end condos and trendy retail establishments.
    Compromise. That’s what made the world go round. The Jane Madison Academy required money to operate, and David had generated that money by selling timber and land. I’d hated letting him make the sale, but I hadn’t been able to figure out an alternative.
    So it was up to me to make sure the sacrifice paid off.
    “Good morning,” I said to my assembled students, taking a moment to look at each of them.
    Automatically, I sought out the women I knew best. Raven matched my greeting, raking a hand through her violet-striped hair and knocking a hip out at an enticing angle. A couple of months ago, I would have been angered by the gesture, resenting the way the warders eyed her, furious with her for upsetting the balance of our distaff group.
    Now, though, I was accustomed to her harmless habits. I nodded easily, just like I smiled when Emma piped up with her fake British accent: “It’s right parky today, isn’t it?”
    Looking at the others, I was concerned about Cassie. Her face was drawn. The ghost of a bruise stood out on her cheekbone. But her feet were planted firmly, and her hands were shoved deep into her pockets, giving her a look of stoic defiance.
    Skyler Winthrop stood close to her. I’d seen the women talking as I approached. I was pleased to see the gesture of support, even though I was a bit surprised to find Skyler in the role of caretaker. She was the last student I’d selected for the semester and I would never admit publicly how much her sculpted face and patrician airs intimidated me. Her cultivated accent of Boston’s Back Bay made me want to check for stains on my workaday clothes, for dirt ingrained under my fingernails.
    Her warder was similarly aloof. He reminded me of a banker or a businessman, someone who wore a three-piece suit and sat behind a gigantic desk. He was older than the other warders by nearly a generation, and I wondered how he’d come to serve a young witch like Skyler.
    In the end, I’d admitted the Boston Brahmin because of her familiar. Siga was a heavyset woman with short arms and legs. Her stubby fingers reminded me of hooves, but there was a smile in her porcine eyes. Skyler distanced herself from that grin, setting up the same frosty barrier she applied to me. But I liked Siga. I wanted to work with her in my own brand of communal magic. And so I’d invited Skyler into our midst.
    And now she was serving as Cassie’s confidante, a role I couldn’t play. Cassie was holding herself aloof from me, from her magistrix. And while it hurt me to admit it, I needed to maintain some distance from my charges. That was one of the lessons I’d learned the previous term, before we completed the Academy’s first Major Working. I’d been too wrapped up in my students’ lives when I launched the magicarium, and I intended to do things differently going forward. I would let them support each other, while I did what I should have done all along, serving as their mentor, their teacher, their guide. I