Rowan’s Crossing (Witches of Belle Hollow #1)

Chapter 1

Annelise Lockheart attempted to look casual as she stood on her grandmother’s old porch and watched the rain come down.

Beyond the road at the front of the house, the river churned, fast and angry, the falling water only feeding it.

The mug of coffee in her hands kept the jitters from showing, but she knew she wasn’t fooling the old woman behind her.

The last time the river had risen too far too fast, the family almost lost the house.

And Annelise had lost the man she thought she’d love forever.

Though he lived just up the mountainside now, she hadn’t laid eyes on him in fifteen years.

It had been a good spell, maybe too good.

It was still holding. But rain like this? It could wash everything away.

“It’s your home. It makes sense you would worry.

” Story’s voice whispered in her ear as her grandmother stepped up beside her.

She placed her hands firmly on the railing, either to steady herself or to look further across the street into the churning waters of the river that ran on the other side of the road. Annelise couldn’t be sure which.

“The weather report says it could flood,” Annelise tried to say it as if it didn’t matter. As if the last flood here hadn’t been the pinnacle of an era of family tragedy.

“It will be okay this time.” Story assured her. Though the old witch’s assurances were made in the time of the universe, as she liked to say. So ‘it will be okay’ could mean in fifty years.

Annelise wasn’t fond of that time frame and she took a sip of her coffee so she didn’t snort her response to the old woman. There were lots of reasons to love the water. The river fed the gardens, then again, so did the local witchcraft. But the crops were plentiful along the river road.

For cheap houses, the view was usually beautiful.

Annelise had played in the waters with the Velasco boys as a kid.

Gone tubing with Rowan around the bend as a teenager.

And then watched, as a young adult, as the water rose and rose and destroyed her house and the too fragile life inside it.

It had even stolen Rowan and the relationship she’d thought was true love, the one that could never be broken, and snapped it like a twig.

Water was like that. Soft and gentle. Cleansing. Life-bringing. And also raging. A force that nothing could withstand. Not the house. Not her relationship. Eventually, not even the mountains.

“Something’s headed our way.” Story nodded at the water as if agreeing with herself. Her white hair was tied back in a ponytail and her bohemian clothing hung on a frame that remained lithe despite her years.

Still, Annelise wanted to huff an answer out.

She was a talented witch herself. All the Lockheart women were—the most powerful in a sleepy little town nearly dripping with families with the craft.

But her Grams’ prediction was about five hours behind the weatherman’s.

So it wasn’t the craft so much as the TV on in the background.

Turning, Story looked at her with a dead glare.

Damn. Her Gram had heard her. Annelise shrugged.

Story sighed at her. It was a usual conversation between them.

With her grandmother making the same beleaguered sound from when her grandkids had come in from the river dripping wet and tracking mud.

She declared more, “Something new and also old. On the road. Headed our way.”

So, not the rain, then. Something else. Annelise nodded, though she knew there was nothing more to say. If Story had seen more in her vision she’d share it. She wasn’t in the business of being cryptic for drama’s sake.

It would play out how it did. Besides, Annelise had more to worry about than whatever vision her grandmother had this week. The rain was bad news. The river was predicted to rise seven to fifteen feet. Seven would kiss the foundation of the house and all would be fine once it receded.

Fifteen would destroy everything. And Annelise could not see into the future. Not even the next few days of rain. She’d tried and she’d seen nothing. The weather report couldn’t either. So her heart beat fast and heavy with worry.

She and Story were the last of the Belle Hollow Lockhearts.

Their family had lived in this spot long before this house had stood here, and her grandmother had been born in the back bedroom.

Or so she’d been told. If the rain took it, that would mean they were truly the last. She could not bear to fail such a legacy, but she was afraid she might not have any other options.

Even more, she had to confront her grandmother. “They said it could flood us.”

“We’ll be fine.” Story gave one last look at the rain and dismissed the potential crisis it was bringing. She walked inside as if none of this mattered. As if Annelise was overreacting. “The water is bringing change to the Hollow.”

Well, Annelise was a water witch and the only change it was bringing her was anxiety. Following her grandmother into the house felt like taking her eyes off the enemy. As if it could shift and strike harder if she wasn’t watching.

But there was another enemy and she had to address it. “We got a letter from the homeowner’s insurance today. It was the final notice that the policy is canceled.”

Storry looked at her as if to say, so what?

Trying desperately to put a lid on her boiling anger, she asked calmly, “So what if it floods? How will we keep the house? How will we stay in Belle Hollow?”