Chapter One
Witch, Please
Bellamy
“Here comes the Grimsbane girl stomping down the street like she hates the sidewalk.”
“Must be Thursday if she is heading in this direction.”
Two gossiping crows sit along the power line above the street, dangling above Hex & Harken Cafe as I walk back towards my home.
My enchanted to-go mug is steaming, like it had a personal vendetta against me.
“I told that barista I wanted medium heat, not the core-of-the-freaking-earth,” I snapped as I set it down in the windowsill with all the tenderness of a woman one mishap away from murder.
Nyx yawned from his bed, his black tail flicking in lazy judgement. My so-called familiar. More like a sarcastic shadow with four paws. His black fur is glinting in the light from the chandelier above him. He’s a beautiful black fox with a coat that mimics the night sky.
“You could just use a regular mug,” he said with a voice smooth as melted dark chocolate and just as bitter. “Or hear me out, make your own coffee instead.”
I shoot him a glare. “And give up the joys of watching people tremble when I stomp through town? Never.”
The air fills with the scent of churned dirt and death right before Matilda, my late neighbor, appears in my kitchen.
Oh, just what I want to deal with today.
Ever since she passed, no one is quite sure how she did, Matilda has been a notorious meddlesome ghost in Pumpkinridge.
She died in the late 1940s, and boy, she’s kept that fashion ever since.
Not that ghosts are supposed to change their appearance, but she manages it on the fly every day.
From flamboyant, over-the-top fashions down to simple dresses she would have worn at home, she has it all.
There are rumors floating around that she’s the infamous matchmaker of our little town. Thankfully, I can’t confirm nor deny those rumors. I do not want her meddling in my life anymore than she already does.
Her silvery, transparent body hovers just above my dining room table as she leans back on her arm. Lounging as if she is unbothered by the fact that she is sitting her ghost ass on my table.
“This is going to be great.” She is solemn as she looks at her nonexistent fingernails.
My eyes narrow as I glare at her. What is she talking about? Before I even have a chance to ask, my front door slams open. Fuck.
I don’t even need to turn around to know who just walked in. From the smell of gooseberries, ethereal judgement, and sugar, I know it’s my twin sister Elora.
Turning around, I find her standing in my foyer dressed in an obnoxious yellow sweater with tiny pink flowers that is literally hurting my soul to look at. Her broad smile and eyes, glittering with mirth, are making my skin itch. Why does she have to be so damn bright every second of every day?
“Morning,” she sing-songs as she walks into the kitchen. “Guess who’s been volun-told to deliver the Newcomer Welcome Basket?”
I don’t even blink. “If you say me, then I’m hexing all your clothes to switch colors.”
Her grin widens like the traitor she is.
“She won’t do it.”
“Money on her hexing him within the first hour.” The two crows sitting on a pumpkin outside my window look at each other with a glint in their eyes.
I cross my arms as Elora dumps the stupid thing on my table like it doesn’t offend me that it is even here.
“Maple fudge, local honey, a sampler of enchanted Teas, and a business card for free reading from me,” she chirped.
“Your card is in there?” I blink.
“Yeah, something tells me that this new person is going to play a major role here. I wanted to be nosey and find out how.”
“Figures.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, the impending migraine already showing signs of its presence. “I thought you were on welcoming duty this year?” I sigh.
She chuckles. “I was. Until someone,” she points at herself, then winks, “got promoted to festival coordinator for this year’s Samhain festival. Which means you, my dear sister, are the honored member of this town that welcomes newcomers. It should be a walk in the park, really.”
I groan, and Nyx snorts from his bed. “Just hex the basket to spurt glitter at the opener every time.”
“Now that I can get behind.”
Elora sighs. “Bells, it’s important that you give them a good impression of our town. They traveled really far to get here and you know how rare it is that we get new people.”
“Should be never with the wards,” I grumble under my breath.
She turns, gives me another mega-watt smile before she heads towards the door. “Thanks for doing this.” And with that, she leaves the same way she came in. Leaving me alone with the stupid basket, the mug of lava, and the judgemental ghost who is having far too much fun with this.
“Told you this was going to be good.” She chuckles before she leans forward.
Nyx stands up, stretching out his back before he slinks over to the table jumping up to join Matilda on the table. She runs her silvery hand down his fur, like the two are the best of friends. Often I wonder who he is more loyal to: me or her.
“You know she’ll only come back again if you don’t deliver the basket,” Nyx says as he flicks his tail back and forth, knocking off the paperwork I had sitting there. It’s fine, it’s not an important spell or anything.
Sucking down my coffee, regretting it as I do, I sigh as I shake my head. “I know. Fine, I’ll do it. Only so Ms. Ray of Sunshine doesn’t come back over.”
I throw on my favorite black cardigan—the one with protection spells woven into the threads and a hidden inside pocket for my bones. Tossing the lava coffee into my shoulder bag, I hook my arm under the handle of the basket.
Nyx leaps down gracefully, landing on silent paws as he walks with me to the front door. “You know this is how it starts? First, it’s a simple errand. Next thing you know, he’s carving your initials into a tree and singing sonnets in your name.”
I pause in the doorway and narrow my eyes at him. “First of all, she never said it was a guy. Secondly, that’s only happened twice.”
The newcomers’ log cabin is just past the bakery, Twisted in Fate, that always smells of sin and poor decisions. I half-expected the home to have an unfamiliar smell to it. As if the outside world had tainted it or something.
It didn’t.
But I did nearly trip over the pumpkin on the steps up to their log cabin.
“Really,” I mutter as I twist my fingers, lifting the pumpkin out of my way before placing it back on the soil where it belongs. “Clearly, they don’t know that pumpkins rot faster on the wood than in their natural soil.”
Nyx sniffs the air beside me. “He smells of fresh pine, dewy rain, and dark nights.”
I freeze. “That’s not—nope. Absolutely not.”
Nyx looks up at me. Waiting for me to elaborate. But I can’t. That scent is the scent of something I want nothing to do with. Now I know why my sister bailed on her duties.
And when the front door opens and out steps a tall, golden-haired man with brown eyes flaked in gold and a soft, stupid smile on his face, holding a tool belt and wearing a shirt that says “Hello, I’m New Here”...
…I knew I was doomed.