Chapter 10
Renata
Knowing there are others who care about mine and Hexate’s well-being gives me the courage I need to throw the door open.
I’m as surprised as I was when I found a wide-eyed, smiling Rowyn at the gate. I’ve been expecting others to show up since Rowyn heard “the call.” I just wish I had a better idea of what exactly I was asking for when I performed the spell.
My quick trust for these women may bite me in the foot eventually, but my magic has never hurt me before. It’s hard to imagine it is now when I take in the two girls on my front porch.
Well, one is a girl—probably around fourteen—but the other is a woman, a few years younger than Rowyn and me, if I had to guess.
The older one, who has black braids with gold beads and tawny skin, awkwardly stretches a hand between us and wraps the other around the younger girl. They look similar, clearly sisters. The girl has soft orange extensions mixed into her braids rather than beads.
“Hi,” the older sister says, “I’m Clover. And this is my sister, Clementine.”
A small tug pulls at my lips. Without having to ask, their names alone tell one thing about them: Green Witches. They often go for the cutesy, nature-inspired themes.
Taking her hand in mine, I offer a firm shake before stretching my arm in Clementine’s direction. She looks surprised by my attention, but shrugs out of her sister’s hold and takes my hand with a smile. It grows wider when Rowyn does the same after greeting Clover.
“I’m Renata, the—er, owner of the inn.” I gesture at the building behind me, not sure where these two are from. “And this is Rowyn. She’s from town.”
“Let me guess,” Rowyn cuts in, “You’re here about the coven?”
There’s a lilt to her voice when she gives me a sly, meaningful glance, before turning her winning hostess smile on them.
“We are,” Clover confirms with a resolute nod.
Hearth Witches are warm like a cozy fireplace and mug of hot chocolate.
Green Witches are pure sunshine reincarnated. It’s a common joke that they spend so much time in the sun that they absorb their personalities from it.
That wasn’t the experience in my family. My mother and sisters scorch like a mid-summer sunburn. Clover and Clementine bring the sweet stereotype to life.
“Are the spots for a Green Witch taken?” Clementine asks cautiously.
“No,” I answer quickly with a shake of my head. “There’s plenty of room for any witch in need of a home—and a coven.”
The last word is hard to choke out, but I use the most normal voice I can muster. It’s still surreal that I have a coven, even if it’s only been Rowyn and I until now. From the sad smiles gracing their faces, it must be exactly what they’re in need of, too.
Something settles in my gut, sparking hope that maybe I could restore the inn if I have help.
I didn’t want to let Rowyn down by telling her I was thinking about selling, not when she was so open about the connection her grandmother and ancestors had to the inn.
Even with her fire magic, the two of us couldn’t pull this off on our own.
But now…
With two Green Witches and a Hearth Witch, maybe we could make something of this place. Turn it into a home again, for us and others in need. A place for any future Blackthorn witches with spirit magic to run away to.
I try to stay calm, not wanting to get ahead of myself before we’ve told them about the curse. Or my doppelg?nger. Or the ghost. That unfamiliar warmth of hope is beginning to spark to life in my chest again.
Clapping her hands once, Rowyn reaches an open palm out to Clementine. “I was about to make us lunch. How does that sound?”
She smiles tentatively but takes the offer, following the other witch inside with a glance back to her sister.
Clover smiles encouragingly. “I’ll meet you back there.”
With them out of earshot, I turn back to Clover. “I meant what I said—you’re both welcome to stay here. But I need to know what you know before you take me up on the offer.”
Mindlessly reaching down, she pets a gorgeous black-tail deer that walks up. There’s a faint golden glow to her familiar. It’s less common in modern days, but can develop after a witch and her bonded animal have gone through great hardship together.
“This is Astra,” Clover offers, instead of answering the question.
“Hexate,” I tell her and point to the snake wrapped around my calf.
Clover smiles at her. “Nice to meet you, Hexate.” It’s a sweet, and uncommon, gesture to greet someone else’s familiar so formally. “I’m open to whatever you want to talk about before we make a decision, but I’d like to have the conversation in the kitchen with my sister.”
“Are you sure?” I ask cautiously. “I’m not trying to spook either of you, but there are some questions—on both sides I’m sure—that need to be cleared up.”
She nods, a stern expression taking over her soft, open features. “I’m sure. Lem and I don’t have secrets from each other. We’re a package deal.”
“Fair enough,” I agree and sweep my hand through the air, pointing her and Astra inside.
After Rowyn insisted on getting us each a plate of food made, the four of us are sitting at the table.
None of them seem rushed to get to the details, but I’m growing more anxious by the second. It doesn’t feel right inviting others into our coven without them having as much information as we do.
It’s not only that, though. I don’t know exactly what spell I cast, or how I did it, to call for a coven. There has to be some connection. If the sisters showed up days after Rowyn, who else did the wind carry those messages to?
It’s not that I don’t trust Rowyn, Clover, and Clementine. Strangely, I do.
Everything about this situation is getting weirder by the second.
“I guess I’ll jump into it,” I say, pushing my plate away. Annoyance flashes across Rowyn’s features, but she takes a bite and doesn’t say anything. I don’t mean to be rude, but my stomach is turning at the prospect of having this conversation.
I didn’t realize how easy this was with Rowyn, who walked right in and knew more than I did. Clover has a young sister to worry about, which makes me want to push them far from here. It also creates this ache to give them a home.
“This property, and my family, are cursed,” I blurt out unceremoniously.
Rowyn leans forward slightly and grimaces. “And this one”—she points a thumb at me—“has a doppelg?nger.”
Clementine’s mouth drops open and her eyes widen, but she doesn’t look scared. If anything, she looks excited.
That worries me a lot more.
“The energy in this town is so weird,” Clover says. “We picked up on it as soon as we got within the borders.”
“It’s eerie,” Clementine adds soberly..
“As soon as we got into town, my powers just…” Clover trails off, carefully thinking over her words. “They feel off.”
“Like a light switch?” Rowyn asks.
She thinks it over, but shakes her head subtly. “No, not like they turned off. I can’t… use them here. It feels kind of hollow,” she says and taps her chest.
My eyes move to her sister, who is giving Clover a concerned look, making me think there’s more to her comment than what she’s saying.
“A doppelg?nger,” Clover muses and lets out a low whistle. “Now that’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.”
“Yeah,” I huff and cross my arms. “Me neither.”
“Do you know what it means?” Clementine asks. Her interest is tamped down but still present.
I shake my head. “No, not yet.”
The two sisters look at each other for a long moment, sharing some sort of silent conversation, before their heads turn at the same time.
Suddenly scared of that familiar sting of rejection, I say, “I meant what I said—you’re welcome to stay here. Even if it’s for a night. I don’t expect anyone to stay and pick up my family’s mess.”
Clover sits taller, an unexpected strength settling over her features. “Our mom taught us that anything worth having wouldn’t come easy.”
Clementine nods silently from her side.
Continuing, Clover adds, “I’m not sure why we received the beckoning, but we did. Lem and I have been looking for a home for a long time. So if you’re offering to give us that, we’ll fight for it.”
Rowyn leans forward, grabbing the Green Witch’s hand and squeezes.
“I can’t even guess what ‘fighting’ would look like,” I admit.
As if on cue, the pot of mashed potatoes still resting on the stove, is thrown to the floor.
“Oh!” Rowyn mutters in surprise. She stands, subtly pushing my plate closer to me again, and goes to pick up the pot. As she begins to clean the mess, she ruefully asks over her shoulder, “Did we mention the ghost? At least we think it’s a ghost.”
“No,” Clover answers with a small shake of her head. “A curse, a doppelg?nger, and a ghost. Sounds like a good time.”
“Or a bad joke,” Clementine mutters before glancing at me.
I let out a dry laugh, lightly shrugging because she’s not wrong.
“Well, I’m more than thankful you’re here,” Rowyn says in a commanding voice. “We were going to start tackling some of the bedrooms. We can each choose ours, and maybe go to a few shops this week.”
Other than when I drove to the Dreaming Willow Inn a few days ago, I haven’t had a chance to explore the town.
There’s even more business than what I saw on my short drive through town.
Rowyn talks about the town proudly, clearly close to many of the residents.
It seems like everyone is doing well enough to get by, but not thriving like Briarhollow used to.
After our long lunch, I give the Foxglove sisters a tour, showing them the hallway Rowyn and I were thinking of inhabiting.
Rowyn insists on cleaning up the kitchen and finishing the den while I do so.
We find her setting out two more makeshift beds next to ours before getting started on the first of many rooms.