She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised, considering his first communication had very specifically expressed a desire for a witch. “Magic,” she said slowly. “You want me to teach them magic.”

“Well, you are a witch, aren’t you?” said Ian, like nothing could be more obvious. “So are they. Ergo, they need you.”

“Is this some kind of extracurricular activity where you let the girls decide what they want to be and then teach that?” Mika asked. “So they’ve decided they want to be witches and you’ve found someone who posts witchy videos online to humour them?”

Another silence. Lucie and Ken looked uncertain, while Jamie narrowed his eyes. Only Ian remained unfazed. He tsked. “Mika Moon,” he said in a grandfatherly tone that left her in no doubt that she was being gently, kindly, told off. “Yours is one of hundreds of accounts that posts witchy videos. I don’t want any of those undoubtedly lovely people. I want you. Why do you think that is?”

“Proximity?”

“@SilverSpoons lives in Suffolk,” said Ian. “Much closer than Brighton. She has fifty-three thousand followers to your fourteen thousand. And yet, as you may have observed, she’s not here.”

A small tremor of unease passed through Mika, but she had spent the best part of thirty-one years learning how to deftly manage exactly this sort of situation, and so she held her ground. “Just to be clear,” she said, opening her eyes very wide like she was incredulous, “you’ve watched my videos and now you think I’m an actual witch? With actual magic?”

Good God, let it not be so. Primrose would murder her dead.

“Yes,” said Ian simply. He stepped up to her, tipping her face up to look him in the eye. His eyes were earnest and kind as they searched hers, begging her to trust him. “Mika. Please.”

That please again. Fuck’s sake.

“Okay,” said Mika, taking a step back and switching strategies. “Let’s say, hypothetically, that real witches exist. Are you saying the three children living in this house are witches?”

“That is exactly what we’re telling you.”

“Not possible,” said Mika.

For one thing, witches were uncommon. It wasn’t every day you stumbled upon one, let alone three. And for another, three witches living together was absolutely not allowed. Primrose was, admittedly, not lord and master of every witch there ever was, but she was old, powerful, and, most importantly, persuasive. There was no way she would have permitted three young witches to be raised together in one house.

Unless she didn’t know about them.

“Ian,” Lucie said uncertainly, “I don’t think—”

“Oh, I give up!” Ian interrupted, throwing his hands up in the air. “Skirting around this is excessively exasperating. Mika, I gather you don’t want to tell us the truth until we tell you the truth. Very well. You win.”

“Ian—”