DIVINATIONS 
MAGAZINE

“You look tired, my dear,” Wolfgang Pyle, famed professor of magic and divinations at the aptly named School of Magic and Divination, mentioned as he picked up his poppy-pea flower tea.

Miss Eloise huffed and placed her black-painted fingers against her hips with a pout. “Oh, fiddlesticks and broomsticks, I tried so hard to cover up the dark circles today.”

“You’re usually so bright and chipper, almost obnoxiously so, is everything well?” Pyle asked. He set his notebook down atop a cluttered table near The Acid and Apothecary’s counter to give her his full attention.

“No, I keep waking up exhausted and have no idea why. I’ve tried saging the space, burning lavender-scented candles, putting a penny under my pillow for good luck—face up, of course—and nothing is working. I don’t think it’s simply the turning of the season or the mounds of research we’ve been doing, either,” Miss Eloise mused as she set her coffee pot in the sink to soak. Her toads, Wick and Willow, croaked in their oversized glass case beside her.

“We have been diving into the old lores quite extensively, perhaps you’ve picked up a nasty omen or a peculiar curse. You’re apt to do that,” Pyle reminded.

“I doubt it’s that drastic. I simply need a good night’s sleep but it’s hard for me to keep an eye on myself.”

Professor Pyle smiled and cocked a thick eyebrow up. “If you wanted me to stay the night you should have said so.”

Miss Eloise scoffed and threw him a wink before she went back to closing up The A&A for the night. It had been slow, which wasn’t surprising this early into a new semester. Autumn was on its way and she could feel it in the air, see it in the changing of the leaves outside. She needed to update her menu, add pumpkin spice back to the lineup and get some apple cider. The pumpkins she’d picked up from The Night Farm during the summer festival in Wylder Wood were placed proudly in the windows with a dash of magic to keep them fresh as September came to a close. She wished she could enjoy the changing of the seasons, but she was just so gosh-darn tired!

“Miss Eloise, how about we watch you sleep?” Zeb, Broochport’s number one ghost hunter, asked from the sofa where he fiddled with his equipment. Miss Eloise noticed his collection of tech had grown, again, and he now took up two tables whenever he came in to prepare for a night of paranormal prowling.

“Absolutely not!” Professor Pyle said, completely aghast.

“Oh, hush, Wolfgang,” Miss Eloise said with a wave of her hand. She turned to address Zeb. “I’m not sure I would feel comfortable with you lingering in my bedroom, Zebadiah.”

“N-no, like, use these!” Zeb replied as he lifted up his camera. “Why don’t we turn it into a ghost hunt! Figure out what’s going on! I could turn The A&A into my base of operations for the night and we could keep an eye on you to see what happens? I have to cram for this Supernatural Safety 101 course tonight, anyway, so my hunt is cancelled. The Prof said he’s got papers to grade, so he could hang out with me!”

Professor Pyle groaned, but couldn’t argue. He did say he had work to do and planned on sticking around The Acid and Apothecary, and Miss Eloise also knew he would want to keep an eye on her—like a good boyfriend would. Despite his grouchiness, he was protective of her, and he’d have trouble refuting the idea.

Miss Eloise tapped her chin in thought. “I suppose that would be smart. I’ll order you a pizza for your trouble and you’re more than welcome to make yourself at home so long as you don’t break anything.”

“Great! I’ll get the camera set up!” Zeb said happily.

“And I’ll get ready for bed!”

*

Hair curlers in and signature black nightgown over her body, Miss Eloise climbed into her bed surrounded by piles of books and draping plants. Too tired to pay much mind to the blinking red light on top of her bookshelf. She clicked off her lamp and tried to get some sleep.

Downstairs in the shop, Zeb sat before his large monitor, a notebook lay open in front of him and a box of pizza steamed at his side. Pyle, with his stack of papers to grade, joined him. His eyes kept flicking up to the screen, so he wasn’t getting much work done. The men existed in silence, both focused on their to-do lists while they took turns looking at the monitor. For the most part, it was quiet. Only the toads on the counter croaking and the occasional chatter of a nocturnal creature or two walking outside broke up the quiet.

The time went by slowly, the pizza was devoured, but around one in the morning Zeb lifted his eyes to the monitor and gasped. The pen that sat between his teeth fell and he leaned forward.

“Uh… Prof?”

“What?”

“She’s… gone.”

Professor Pyle dropped his files and scooted forward, pushing his glasses up to look at the night vision live feed of Miss Eloise’s bedroom. He gasped. The bed was empty—and it appeared to have been made! He turned to the staircase and listened for a moment until the clear sound of footsteps broke through the night. Zeb and Pyle watched as Miss Eloise drifted down the stairs with her long nightgown trailing behind her—she looked like a ghost floating her way to the hereafter—and untied combat boots on her feet.

Pyle went to speak but Zeb grabbed his arm. “Maybe we should let her do her thing? See if we can’t figure out what’s going on?” he proposed.

“Hmph, I suppose you’re right. It’s not like her to sleepwalk,” Pyle mused.

They kept quiet and watched as she came down the stairs and started heading to the door. Zeb grabbed his ghost hunting camera and urged Pyle to pick up his cane so they could follow the witch. They trailed her into the shadowy autumn night as she made her way into town, as if being called by something unseen. It wasn’t in the direction of the school, nor was it in the direction of the cemetery, so the men were curious to know what the witch’s subconscious was telling her. What ethereal thing she was sensing, or what ill omen she’d accidentally conjured by diving into the old lores that beckoned her elsewhere.

They went up the street, around the corner, across the block with Zeb’s camera aimed squarely at Miss Eloise. No one seemed to pay her much mind—most likely assuming she was nothing but another specter going about her nightly business. She bypassed the bakery, swept by the stationary shop, and meandered near the market. She never stayed long, but it appeared as though she was looking for something in particular. Miss Eloise would pause, lift her hand, and with an a-ha gesture she’d move on to the next place. They followed her for a while, up alleys and down pathways, until the moon was high above their heads.

“No wonder she’s tired, this is a lot of walking,” Zeb mused.

“Indeed, I do hope she stops soon,” Pyle replied as he planted his cane firmly on the stone street to catch his breath. Miss Eloise had, once again, stopped. This time seemed different, however, as she stood upright and set her hands against the windows of a dimly lit shop that read The Witchery. The men watched as a fae walked to the front door and peered outside with a smile on their pale—literally sparkling—face. The name tag on their apron read Saffron - They/Them, and it seemed as though they had been expecting the witch.

“Back again, I see,” the fae mused. They turned their striking silver eyes up and addressed the men who seemed less than trustworthy as they watched with wide-eyes and a camera from a few feet away.

Professor Pyle cleared his throat and lifted a hand before he was accused of something untoward. “She’s been sleepwalking, we’re trying to figure out why. She and I are in a courtship.”

“Courtship? Ew, you’re so old,” Zeb said with a gag.

Saffron the fae laughed. “She’s been out here every night this week since we got our new shipment of brooms in. She stares at it for an uncomfortably long time then vanishes. I think she’s eying this one.” The fae tapped the display window where a very expensive designer broom made of beautiful birchwood pampas grass hung.

Zeb nudged Pyle in the ribs. “Maybe you should get it for—”

“I know, Zebadiah. I know,” Pyle sighed. “I’d like to purchase the broom, please. With gift wrapping, if you have it.”

“Sure thing. What a lucky lady she is, this is our most expensive model. Come on in, I’ll ring you up,” Saffron said with a wave and a smirk.

Pyle followed them inside of the quaint witchery shop, and Zeb approached Miss Eloise to keep an eye on her in case she started wandering again. He finally shut off the camera and closed the viewfinder as he leaned on the window to look up at the much taller witch. Once the shop door closed, however, Miss Eloise opened one eye and turned it to Zeb. A smile crept over her face and she quickly held up a finger in front of her lips.

“You’re faking?!” Zeb yell-whispered.

“No, of course not. I’m merely… acting,” Miss Eloise said gently. “I love Wolfgang but he’s a wretched gift giver, I figured I’d… nudge him in the right direction since my birthday is on Saturday.”

“You’re so cool.”

“Thank you, Zeb. If you promise not to tell, I’ll give you free coffee for a week.”

Zeb shot his hand out. “Deal.”

They shook on it.

The bell above the shop door chimed, so Miss Eloise went back to her sleepwalking. Pyle peeked out with the large box in hand, which Zeb quickly took to ensure he would walk unhindered. The tired professor leaned over to kiss Miss Eloise on the cheek and gently take her arm, nudging her back in the direction of The Acid and Apothecary so they could all hopefully get some shut eye. New broom and the sleeping witch in hand, the trio walked back through the beautiful autumnal night and hoped that the mystery of The Walking Eloise had finally come to an end.

They were all ready for a nice long sleep.