Love or Enchantment: The Choice That Defines Us

Power comes with a price, loves a lottery youll always lose, warned Grandmother Morrigan as she handed Morgana the familys witchcraft secrets. Morgana tucked the warning into her heart; men never seemed to stay in her orbit. If a hopeful suitor managed to circle her, shed fling him into the void of the night sky. Some were drunks, some full of themselves, some so eager she wanted to turn them into a toad, and a few were nothing more than stubborn mules without any need for a spell.

At last the bloodline of witches threw up her hands. If loves hopeless, thats thatscrew romance! she declared, adopting a black, cheeky cat she christened Muffin.

One rainy afternoon a raven delivered a thick black scroll from an old schoolmate, Evelyn, whod once shared a dorm at the Dark Arts Academy. In curling scarlet ink it read:

Hello, Morgana! The girls and I have conspired to host a familystyle dinner on Friday the 13th. Sabbaths are grand, but were more than colleagues were mates, and our families barely know each other. So we need to bring our better halves along. Lyle and I are inviting everyone to our place; weve been together five years

Morgana squinted at the name Lyle, trying to recall any gossip about Evelyns love life. Barely a whisper, she muttered.

The lineup looks like this: Daphne will bring her Frank, Brett will escort Ernest, and Marion is undecided between Mark or Max (she keeps mixing them up). Youre welcome to bring a date, but if youre still flying solo, no worries well still love you to bits.

Morganas eyes bulged. Youll love me because Im a fool whos still single? How on earth have you all dodged the cursed loveluck that haunts every witch? Evelyn has Lyle! Those three have husbands! Am I the worst, or perhaps the best? Is my magic so potent it repels romance altogether?

She racked her brain for where the girls had found respectable boyfriends, and where she might find one herself. The notion of a lovespell was dismissed instantly. In their coven, a lovecharm was as vile as a quack doctor poking at a patients eye with a needle. The five proud sorceresses had sworn never to dabble in such tricks, lest they be cursed with a face full of acne for eternity.

Time was ticking, the queue of handsome suitors for the witchy soirée was empty, and the invitation loomed. The more Morgana thought about the gathering, the clearer it became: she needed to attend, preferably with a partner. Flying solo, pretending her power alone was a badge of honor, sounded noble, but a real shoulder to lean on would be far more comforting not to mention the priceless look on her friends faces when she arrived with a date.

Three days before the dinner, nerves turned to panic. The day before, she was a bundle of anxiety. By noon, shed lost all rational thought but gained a sudden burst of action.

Scanning the room, Morganas gaze landed on Muffin, preening himself on the sofa. No! she whispered to herself. Then, Yes! She recalled an ancient incantation, muttered the proper words, and turned the cat into a man.

A lanky, muscular gentleman rose, his skin the colour of midnight. Youre African? she blurted.

Dont be rude. Do you have a problem with my complexion? the man replied, flicking his tongue over his hand and fixing her with a disdainful stare that only a cat could muster.

Nothing but your voice! Morgana squealed. Its a highpitched falsetto, not the deep alpha I imagined for my handsome escort.

He raised an eyebrow. You dont recall the dreadful day? The injections, the whitewalled clinic, the vetinalab coat the awakening?

Morgana muttered, At least you dont roam the backstreets now. The man huffed. All for your convenience. So, what do you need from me? Testing another spell?

Were heading to a family dinner, not a ball, she stammered, trying to sound sensible. Your voice needs fixing. Lets say youve caught a chill and lost it. Youll stay silent; Ill do the talking. Call you Alex. Your job: act like a lovestruck lad, impress me.

AlexMuffin snorted and kept licking his paw. Morgana, unsure whether hed grasped the plan, asked, What will you do when we get there?

I dont like strangers homes, he said, twirling a dangling amulet, Ill dash to the furthest room, find a comfy bed, and curl up. Ill hiss at anyone who tries to pull me out, and I might even swat with a paw if needed.

No hiding! No hissing! Morgana shouted. Alex looked at her with mock contempt. You think you can threaten a catturnedhuman? she snapped, then realized intimidation was futile. She softened, If you follow my orders, Ill feed you the finest chicken livers for life.

And salmon, Alex added, eyes gleaming.

What about my facial expression? Morgana asked. Will it crack?

If I cant find a loo, Ill find some shoes, he replied.

Fine. Salmon and valerian.

Deal! Alex growled, then, with a theatrical sigh, Youre blackmailing me, you witch!

Pervert! Morgana retorted, Youre passing off a castrated tom as a boyfriend!

The night of the dinner, Morgana whispered to Alex in the hallway, Charm them, but stay silent.

I can purr, that always works, he replied.

Dont test me, or Ill snip your tail! she warned.

People are odd, Alex muttered, always trying to cut us off.

Morgana crossed her fingers, pressed the doorbell, and the hostess, Evelyn, greeted them arminarm with a tall, lean blond. For a heartbeat Alex seemed to hiss, but he turned around with an innocent grin.

The girls were already gathered. Frank, Daphnes boyfriend, was a muscular brunette with a strikingly pale face and a solid build, though his presence left Morgana feeling something was off, like a picture needing a frame. Ernest, Bretts partner, was as sturdy as a rock broadshouldered, slow, with a heavy stare. Mark (or Max Marion couldnt decide, and he answered to both) was an ordinary bloke, eyes glued to his girlfriend with unwavering devotion.

Alex behaved impeccably, only once grabbing the dangling hem of Bretts dress as she turned away; Morgana snatched the offending ribbon away, threatening to withhold his salmon.

The evening flowed nicely. Alex stayed mute. The friends chattered about how theyd met, future plans, and all that mushy stuff. Morgana, desperate for a romantic anecdote about how a darkhaired hero swept her off her feet, found herself quietly content that she wasnt the worst of the lot. By the second half of the night shed relaxed until it happened.

Alex rose abruptly.

Where are you going? Morgana hissed into his ear.

Ive got to go, he snapped back.

Find the boots! Do you know where the bathroom is? she demanded.

Of course I do. Calm down. He stalked off, leaving Morgana fidgeting like a cat on a hot tin roof. She imagined him mixing up the loo with the cloakroom, or dumping random objects into the toilet and clogging everything. An hour passed and Alex hadnt returned. She scanned the room: Daphne was fussing with Franks tie, Brett was coaxing Ernest to smile, Marion was listening to MarkMax profess his love, and Evelyn shot a disapproving glance at Lyle, who was gnawing on a chicken bone.

Morgana slipped away from the table, muttering, Wheres that beast?

She found him on the kitchen table, perched like a king.

Off you go! she hissed. Off the table! What are you doing up here?

Theres sausage, Alex murmured, licking his lips.

Theres sausage on your plate too! Morgana snapped.

Its better, he purred louder.

Get down at once! Dont embarrass me!

She wrestled him off, and he tumbled to the floor, knocking over plates and cups, landing not on four feline paws but on his rump like a man.

Just then Evelyn entered.

Whats happening? Alex, are you alright?

Yes! Morganas frantic mind grabbed a clue. Hes… panicking! Overexcited!

Evelyn fetched a bottle from a cupboard, poured a spoonful into a cup, and handed it to the sprawling Alex, saying, Here, have a calming draught.

Before Morgana could stop him, Alex snatched the cup, gulped it, then knocked the bottle over and emptied it completely.

He cant have valerian! Morgana shouted too late.

Its fine! the catturnedman shouted back in a voice that seemed to come from everywhere. Now I can do anything! He bolted, clutching a fallen beer can.

Whats wrong with him? Evelyn asked.

Allergy to valerian, Morgana muttered, chasing after the whirlwind.

She caught him in the bedroom, where he raced up the sofa, swung on the curtain, tore the rod, and tumbled across the carpet. When she tried to catch him, Alex sprang up with a mischievous glint and darted toward the pantry.

Bunny! he cried from inside a microwavebox, which collapsed around him like a flimsy fort.

Daphne giggled, Hes just like my cat!

Morgana could only facepalm, channeling Captain Picards famous gesture.

Is it really an allergy? Evelyn squinted.

Stop it, Alex growled, still halfinbox, Im a cat!

Blimey! Morgana whispered, recalling a spell to sink someone underground.

How could you? Daphne exclaimed.

Castrated cat, Alex sneered, crumbling in the cracked box.

Brett, with a sigh, said, Morgana and a heavy silence fell, broken only by Frankies boisterous laugh, his pale face turning an even brighter shade of blue as his head tipped back and fell off.

Oops, Daphnes face paled too.

What happened? Evelyn asked, voice trembling.

Morgana stared at the dangling, stillalive torso and the wobbling head on the floor.

Frankie I resurrected him, Daphne whispered, Zombies are unreliable, you know. His head was on one body, his torso on another after an accident She trailed off, clearly out of her depth.

Evelyn, tone sharp as a schoolmistress, said, Youve betrayed our pact! Our trust! We swore never to cheat each other after all those years at the Academy.

Ernest is a golem, Brett muttered, almost inaudible.

What? Evelyns dark eyes widened. And you, Brett?

Enough! Marion shouted, I must confess Mark I mean Max I enchanted him.

A collective Ah! rippled through the room.

I broke our oath! What else could I do? I thought you all had perfect love lives. Evelyn, you brag about Lyles romance. It hurt me terribly!

We all fell for it, Morgana nodded.

Losers! Evelyn sniffed, turning away dramatically. Lets go, Lyle.

Lyle stood, growling at the tumbling Africanlooking man inside the box.

Lyle! Evelyn shouted, but the growl only deepened.

Morgana, deciding the human guise was no longer suitable, whispered a reversal spell. Alex reverted to his original black, fluffy self. Yet the magic didnt stop there Lyle shrank, his limbs sprouting fur, until a tiny ginger Chihuahua barked at the cat.

Poor Lyle! Marial laughed, and the others joined in, except Evelyn, who turned a deep shade of crimson.

An hour later the witches abandoned their failed suitors, trudged to the nearest pub, and joined a ragtag group of five former Dark Arts graduates. As per old tradition, every Friday the 13th they toasted to the cursed loveluck that seemed to follow them wherever they went.