S.A. SIZEMORE's
BECKETT COVEN
The Witches' Brew
Cathleen Archer Mather brushed a strand of red hair from her freckled, pink face. She bought The Witches' Brew over a decade ago. A former barista herself, she worked hard to turn it into a profitable business. Now, it was an Essex Street staple. It had a cozy atmosphere with dark wood furnishings surrounded by red brick and black gloss paint. Highly polished chrome brewing equipment stood out against a mahogany counter.
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Along the main wall, opposite the bar, was an enormous mural of a witch in flight holding a steaming cup of coffee. It was a social media photo op requirement for any visitor to Salem.
Elizabeth shifted slightly as Cathleen passed by her. The uncomfortableness between them was mutual.
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It wasn't that Cathleen hated her. Hate was an unhealthy emotion, as her mother used to say. Her friends thought the tension between them was silly. It had been decades since they were at school together.​ Maybe it was Elizabeth's surname. Mention the word Ingersoll in the Salem witch community and you often received lots of odd looks and cold shoulders....
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It was much easier to blame her nemesis for her troubles. It always had been.
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Fuck Hekate's wrath, Cathleen thought. She shoved her ass into Elizabeth's face as she cleaned off the table next to her.
