Ally Lichen's Friend

1. Lighthouse Witch

Damp chill clung to every stone of the lighthouse walls. As she made her way up from the cellar, Ally's fingers grew red and cold around the frigid metal handle of the lantern she held. Its golden glow pooled on the narrow walls of the spiral staircase in a perfect circle, as though Ally Lichen was a firefly in the center of the light.

She didn't feel like a firefly, although, as keeper of the lighthouse, she supposed she could be in some metaphorical sense. But the fire gremlin in the lantern was bouncing and energetic, and Ally was straining to keep her eyes open. It would not do to fall asleep halfway up the stairs and then go crashing back down to the cellar, especially with the four jars she had tucked against her gray sweater with her free arm. So she told herself that she was a big girl—eighteen now, so technically not a girl anymore—and marched on.

At last, Ally reached the kitchen and put the jars of apple butter, pickles, canned corn, and pumpkin on the shelves where they belonged. Only then did she allow herself to collapse into the kitchen window seat, which had become her accustomed nook since she moved here a year ago.

A year ago today, in fact. Ally opened her eyes a crack to peer at the calendar hanging over the stove. October third. Exactly a year.

A sigh escaped Ally's lips and she let her head fall back against the wood of the window frame, pulling her knees up to her chest, and hugging her corduroy trousers. To her right, the night through the window was dark, and the sound of waves against the rocky shoreline hummed gently in her ears. She was grateful for it. Without the sounds of the waves, the lighthouse would surely be unbearably quiet.

Oh if only she could fall asleep right here...

The tea kettle on the stove began to whistle.

"Oh." Ally murmured. Her eyes felt as heavy as stones, but tea sounded nice, and she supposed that she really ought to eat supper before it got too late.

As she poured the hot water over dried mint and lemongrass, the voice of John Millner, the man who had hired her, kept echoing in her head.

It's an awful lot of work, looking after a lighthouse, you really should find someone to help you. Two are better than one!

"I'll find someone when I find someone." Muttered Ally, which was her response every time John nagged her about finding help. Alone in the lighthouse almost every day for an entire year, she had made a habit of talking to herself. At least when Flicker was not around.

Speaking of which...

A ghostly mew sounded from the door to the round kitchen. Ally glanced up to spot a familiar corporal form hurrying across the floorboards to rub himself against her ankles. He had been summoned by the sound of the kettle, accustomed to a saucer of milk whenever Ally had her tea.

Ally gave the ghost cat a tired smile and waved her hand, conjuring a dish of Ghostly Milk. Conjuring ghostly items wasn't something most witches bothered with, but she had learned it from her mother. Flicker had been a living cat when her mother was a little girl, but Ally had only known him as a ghost.

Her feet ached, but her stomach growled, so Ally began to fix supper. She sliced off some sourdough bread. She fed the fire gremlins in the stove several shovel-fulls of coal and told them firmly to behave. Even after she shut the iron door, she could still hear them cackling. She chopped up an onion and put it in her small one-person-sized soup pot with some butter. She added salt and pepper and crushed sage. She chopped vegetables and poured a jar of canned broth into the pot. The fire gremlins did behave, or at least they were as close to behaving as fire gremlins can be, and before long, the soup was simmering away on the stovetop.