Page 18 of They Were Broom-Mates

“She’s been in the mausoleum both times I went out to visit her, but I can reach out through the cathedral to confirm her location just to be sure.”

“Okay.” Regina nodded, stepping forward and taking Amelie by the hand. “Well, I’ll guide you while you look because we really need to get moving. The sooner we nip this in the bud, the better.”

Hestia nodded and took Amelie’s other hand as the pair led her out of Hestia’s room and into the hallway. As soon as Amelie felt confident that the pair were not going to lead her into a wall, she closed her eyes and let her consciousness mingle once again with the living building. Surprisingly, even with her eyes closed, Amelie discovered that she could still see where she was going… not in the traditional sense, but through the tendrils of magic that pulsed through the very walls themselves.

Taking a deep breath, Amelie shot herself back to a more bird's-eye view of the property, searching for Delia’s chilly aura. Surprisingly, it was even easier to find than before, as the aura surrounding the graveyard seemed to have almost heated up slightly. Causing Delia’s ice-cold presence to stick out… right in the middle of the mausoleum.

Amelie opened her eyes again, stumbling slightly as she readjusted to her sight being back.

“She’s in the mausoleum,” Amelie confirmed, picking up the pace slightly so she was no longer dragging behind the other two. However, despite the fact that she no longer needed them to guide her, she kept her hands firmly in their grasps.

As they made their way outside, Amelie’s brow furrowed at the change in the cemetery. The trees that had been previously fully bare had begun to grow leaves, and bushes and shrubs that had sat dead along the cobblestone walkway almost seemed as though they were alive, once more, reaching toward the witches’ feet as they made their way through the grounds.

“Regina.” Hestia looked over at the divination witch, concern etched into her features as she seemingly noticed the same thing Amelie had moments before.

“I know.” Regina nodded her head, but said nothing else. Amelie could only presume that the changes that were happening to the foliage were part of what the divination witch had seen in her vision.

When they arrived at the mausoleum, Regina pushed the door open with her free hand and led the way inside without pause.

“Amelie. I know you want me to eat, but it’s not even lunch yet.” Delia’s voice called across the stone crypt, echoing off the walls. “So I don’t… Regina?”

Amelie looked up to see Delia, perched on the windowsill across the way, Mortimer sitting on her shoulder, her expression confused. As the cemetery keeper studied them from across the room, her gaze raking over their forms, Amelie suddenly felt slightly self-conscious, remembering that she had been holding Hestia and Regina’s hands on the way there.

Releasing her grip, Amelie took a tentative step forward.

“Regina had a vision.” Clasping her hands together in front of her body, Amelie struggled as she searched her mind for any explanation as to why they’d just burst into the shorter witch’s space with no warning.

Delia raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.

“She does do that, yeah.”

Hestia huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “Well, this one was deemed important enough by the Council of Seers to share.”

Amelie had never seen Delia and Hestia interact before, but now that it was happening, she could sense an undercurrent of hostility that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Delia’s eyebrows flew up in surprise as she shifted slightly, hopping off her perch, allowing Mortimer to crawl down her arm and onto the windowsill.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” Regina responded, striding across the space, past the stone coffin in the center, close enough that she could look Delia in the eye. Though with how tall Regina was and how short Delia was, the smaller witch had to crane her neck to look up.

“Well, out with it.” A soft, red flush crept up Delia’s ears. Amelie could tell she was uncomfortable with the proximity and confused by their sudden appearance, but seemingly had it together enough to stand her ground.

“The dead in this cemetery are going to rise.”

Delia’s expression did not change as she watched the taller witch skeptically. However, Amelie’s jaw dropped open as she looked over to Hestia, where she saw her own expression mirrored.

“That’s impossible.” Delia shook her head, expression cold as ever. “That would require a practitioner skilled in necromantic blood magic, and I don’t see anyone here but the four of us.”

Regina shrugged. “Well, whatever it is, it’s already affecting Hestia’s illusion around the town, and I think that we all know the consequences of revealing ourselves to the outside world.”

Delia’s face twisted up in the first expression of an emotion Amelie had seen on the white-haired witch since arriving. Anger.

“That sounds like a Hestia problem.” Delia snapped back. “She’s supposed to be the ‘child prodigy’ in Illusory Arts here.”

“I’ve dealt with the immediate problem,” Hestia interjected, voice dripping with irritation. “But in case you forgot, I create illusions, not barriers. If a zombie wanders out past the town limits, I won’t be able to hide it from the humans, genius.”

Delia’s attention snapped over to the fiery redhead. As the pair stared each other down, Amelie noted the temperature of the room polarizing, becoming warmer on Hestia’s side and even colder on Delia’s.