Rowan
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Once. Twice.
But I have no time to see who’s bothering me.
I sweep into Aphrodite’s Cove, my boots clicking against the floor as the door swings shut, blocking the harsh Maine winter. I scan the area, my eyes narrowing as I look for her—Aspen, my middle sister.
She looks right at home in the pastel boutique she owns.
Her pink outfit matches the walls to a T.
Her romper has a heart-shaped cutout across the chest, and despite the outfit being far too cold for the season, Aspen always looks perfect.
Her hair, a lighter red than mine by several shades, is blown out meticulously—not by her, of course.
No, she gets it styled twice a week at a nearby blowout bar.
Aspen may have moved back to Starbrook and left the land of high fashion, but compared to the rest of us, she still lives like a celebrity.
“There you are.” She shuffles closer and wraps me in a hug, clinging tightly, as if we haven’t seen each other in ages.
In reality, we had breakfast together this morning. She’s always been one for dramatics.
Aspen no longer stays at the house with Juniper, Laurel, and me, but she lives in a cottage on the property. That means she’s usually around—especially when free breakfast is involved—and she often has her hungry werewolf husband in tow.
“Here I am.” I stiffen under her touch until she pulls away. “What do you need?”
Another emergency? Call Rowan. Juniper may be the oldest, and she certainly views herself as the most responsible, but when everything is going wrong, I’m the one my sisters lean on.
At least, that’s true in situations like this.
I may not be the best at offering emotional support, but I can help with most of their business problems.
“It won’t take payments.” She gestures to the register I had set up for her.
It’s not so much a register as a tablet with a scanner, which is what most shops have these days—especially shops that sell expensive wedding dresses and other garments. It’s not as if they’re going to pay for that in cash.
“What error is it giving you?” I slide behind the counter and turn on the device.
“I don’t know. It just won’t… won’t process anything. I had a customer run to an ATM to pay me—can you believe it?—and in an hour, a bride is coming in to pick up her dress. But she won’t be able to pick up her dress because she can’t pay me.”
“Aspen—”
“I can’t expect her to go to an ATM and walk around with that kind of money. Don’t be silly.”
As if I was going to suggest that.
My expression flattens, and I look up from the tablet. “Aspen. Your Wi-Fi is down.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Wi-Fi. The thing enables you to process payments. It’s down. Fix the Wi-Fi, and you’ll be able to take payments again.”
“But how do I do that?”
My phone buzzes once more.
“I don’t know. Let me do some troubleshooting. Worst-case scenario, we’ll have to call the company, but we can avoid that.”
“You’ll fix it? Really?”
“No promises.”
I already spent a full day working with my other clients—clients who pay me to fix their accounting problems, not their technical issues. But for family, I often end up helping in ways that aren’t in the job description.
Troubleshooting with Aspen quickly turns into twenty minutes on hold, then another forty minutes on the phone with her service provider. Finally, the Wi-Fi comes back up just as the bride arrives—ten minutes late, which is a blessing in this case.
“Thank you,” Aspen gushes. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Uh-huh. You can make the call yourself next time.”
I’m not the one who signed up for everyone in my family to open a business.
Juniper and Maple own the tavern, Juniper’s husband runs the apothecary, and Aspen has her boutique.
What’s next? Maybe Laurel will open a gym.
My role is supposed to be minuscule; I’m an accountant.
I’m good at it, if I say so myself, having been doing it for a few years now.
But instead of taking care of the books and taxes, I’m constantly putting out fires.
I step out of the boutique, and my phone buzzes again. Still Seth.
I groan, finally looking at the texts.
Seth
Can I see you?
A few moments later.
Seth
It’s an emergency.
And then, a few seconds later.
Seth
Ro?
What kind of emergency could Seth possibly have?
He’s not like my sisters. He may manage the Botanical Brew, but he doesn’t own a business.
No need for an accountant. He has no magical fires for me to put out, either literal or metaphorical.
Seth has been a family friend for as long as I can remember. A human. Simple. Soft.
I don’t have time for more drama, and I should tell him as much, but my fingers move without permission.
Me
Meet me at Lupine.
Gods damn it all.
My mood is no better when I enter Lupine Apothecary.
This is where all the witches—and some others—come for their magical supplies.
Jars of herbs and bottles of elixirs line shelves, while flowers and more herbs hang from the walls.
A little black cat slinks closer as I step inside, winding himself around my legs.
I bend over to scratch just behind his ears.
“Good afternoon,” Ozan, the owner and my brother-in-law, says in his best customer service voice.
Ozan is more competent than some, so I’m patient with him. I still help him with the books, but he has experience in marketing and business. He’s decent at fixing things, too, whether it’s the internet or a broken heater.
That doesn’t mean he won’t enlist me for help. When my family apothecary closed down, I offered my astral charms to him. It’s a good way to stay connected to my magic even when work has me too busy to practice as much as I’d like.
After my mother passed, I was the one with the best-paying job. It was natural for me to start working more, helping around the house as much as I could. Now, my sisters are all doing better for themselves, but old habits die hard.
And their success means more work for me.
“I have the charms.” I set the bag on his table and straighten up. “Sorry, I’m late. I know.”
“It’s all good.” He flashes me a bright smile, brighter than most people could muster after a hard day of work.
At least he and I have that in common: a good work ethic is often hard to come by, and I respect those who have it. Like Juniper. Ozan. And Seth.
I look over my shoulder, half expecting him to join us, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
There’s no controlling the tingle in my heart at the thought of his appearance; I swiftly push it off.
The charms clink and jingle as Ozan looks through them: crystals for various purposes, teaspoons to charm a drink, and bronze bells to chase away malevolent spirits.
“The intentions are labeled,” I say.
“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you. I’ll send your payment over tonight.”
“Thank you.”
I rock back, shoving my hands into my cardigan pockets.
He squints. “Everything all right?”
“Yes.” I step away. “Why do you ask?”
“You don’t usually stay this long. Do you need payment up front?”
“No.” I huff out an annoyed breath. “Apologies. I don’t mean to linger, but I asked Seth to meet me here, and of course—he’s late.”
I should have had him meet me at the house. We’re neighbors, and it’s family dinner tonight; it would be all too easy for him to pop over.
Too late for that now.
“Ah. Well, make yourself at home.”
Hard to do when I’m not the only customer in the apothecary. Others browse hand-painted tarot decks, fresh herbs, and spell candles. I suppose there are less comfortable places for a witch than somewhere like here, a place we get our supplies.
Relax. Sure. I can do that.
I walk away and inspect a collection of old, rusty keys—not that I have a use for them in my practice. Crossroad witches use them for their magic and offerings for their goddess.
When Seth enters, there’s no mistaking his presence. The jingle that sounds from the chimes on the door, the huffs and puffs that fall past his lips.
I turn to face him, and he’s… glistening.
Sweat shines on his brow as he pulls off his red beanie, his dark hair standing every which way.
If Seth Bautista weren’t decidedly human, I would believe he’s one of the gods we worship—with his sun-kissed bronze skin, chiseled jawline, deep brown eyes, and a physique that would put those statues to shame.
I tear my gaze away. “Thank you for coming. Finally.”
Perhaps I shouldn’t push his buttons. It’s clear he ran across town to reach me—unsafe, he could have slipped on the ice.
Some would flinch at the disapproval in my voice, but Seth laughs. His eyes crinkle, he flashes perfectly white teeth, and he throws his head back—just a little.
I bite the inside of my cheek and never make direct eye contact with him. He may be my youngest sister’s best friend, but we’re close enough in age that he and I are…
Well, we’re close too. I think.
“Sorry,” he says. “I tried to get here as fast as I could, but I was finishing up a shift at the café. I had to close early to make it in time.”
I pick up a key, pretending to inspect it. My brow furrows. “Are you going to be in trouble for that? We could have met somewhere else.”
“I don’t think so.” He shakes his head, and in a moment, the jovial Seth I’m used to melts into something else—something, someone, more somber. Sincerity rings in each slow, urgent syllable. “It doesn’t matter. Rowan, there’s… there’s something wrong with me.”
“Something wrong?”
He nods, looking at me with terror. “I think I’m cursed.”
The key in my hand drops to the floor with a loud clunk.