Chapter 5
It was the morning of the Spring Awakening Festival, and Dolores was having a meltdown.
The town square was alive with music. Banners hung between lampposts announcing THE SPRING AWAKENING FESTIVAL in shimmering gold and green letters. Except one banner was upside down. A third now read: SPRING AWAKENING FERAL.
Okay then.
Lanterns floated overhead in pastel colors, bobbing gently above the town square while flower petals drifted magically through the air.
The entire place smelled like fresh baked bread, enchanted pollen, cinnamon, wet earth, and whatever horrifying floral perfume Beverly had apparently bathed in this morning.
Crowds filled the streets—witches, shifters, vampires, werewolves, werecats, and werebears. Everywhere I looked, Hollow Cove buzzed with festival energy.
Booths lined both sides of Main Street, displaying enchanted flower arrangements, sparkling potion bottles, magical jewelry, bewitched candles, baked goods, fertility charms, and at least three tables selling crystals that absolutely did not do what the sellers claimed they did.
A small magical maypole had been erected near the center of town where children chased glowing ribbons that occasionally moved on their own.
Nearby, a group of shifters prepared for the obstacle races while arguing loudly over whether partial wing use counted as cheating.
I stood near the fountain gripping my ceremonial staff and questioning my decisions that brought me here.
A few feet away, Darian happily darted through the children’s enchanted egg hunt set up near the maypole. Tiny glowing eggs bounced and rolled magically through the grass while a group of children chased after them squealing.
Except Darian wasn’t exactly “searching.” He was dominating.
My son launched himself off a hay bale in his gorilla form, scooped up three glowing eggs at once, and then beat another child to a fourth by physically climbing the side of a decorative rabbit statue.
The other kid stared at him in horror.
Darian proudly hooted and stuffed another egg into the little satchel hanging across his chest.
Damn. The competitive wereape energy was already becoming a concern.
“Sweetie,” I called out, “maybe leave some eggs for the other children?”
Darian looked at me. Then grabbed two more eggs and ran faster.
Super. Excellent parenting happening here today.
One of the enchanted eggs suddenly cracked open in his hands releasing a burst of sparkling green smoke that briefly turned the fur on his little gorilla arms bright pink.
Darian gasped in delight. Then he started flexing proudly at nearby children like he’d invented the color pink.
At least he was having fun.
And despite the nerves twisting around inside me since Addison’s arrival, watching my son laugh under the floating lanterns and drifting flower petals softened something in my chest.
For a moment, things almost felt normal. Well. Hollow Cove normal.
Which still included magical livestock, glitter contamination, and at least one drunk gnome trying to steal pie from the bake sale table.
But still. Normal-ish.
I sighed. “Why am I dressed like a woodland cult leader?” I whispered, staring down at the flowing green robes Ruth had somehow convinced me to wear.
Because apparently, the host of the Awakening Beast Ceremony equals magical forest pageant queen.
Tiny embroidered leaves decorated the sleeves while glowing vines climbed lazily along the hem. The outfit even sparkled. Sparkled. I was one flower crown away from fully losing custody of my dignity.
Beside me, Ronin, my half-vampire friend who’d showed up seconds after I took my post, looked me up and down before grinning. “I kinda love it.”
“Leave.”
“You look like sexy poison ivy joined a church.”
“Leave harder.”
The half-vampire laughed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Hey, at least Dolores didn’t make you wear antlers.”
I turned toward him. “I would have killed her.”
Ronin lost his smile. “So, no?”
I glowered at him. “No.”
“Did Ruth support the antlers?”
Of course she did. “She wanted them enchanted to bloom flowers every time I spoke.”
Ronin physically doubled over laughing. “Man. I love your aunt. She’s the best.”
I pointed my ceremonial staff at him. “You’re not safe either. I can absolutely hit people with this thing.”
He flashed me a smile. “Worth it.”
I felt eyes on me and looked up to find Marcus watching me from across the crowd, Lori the big werebear next to him. His features were tight, alert. This whole Addison thing had spooked him. It spooked me too.
I stared at my vampire friend. “Please look for Addison. You can’t miss her. She’s like a cutout of Allison.” I barely slept last night. I kept going over what Addison had said, that her sister was dead, and she wanted to meet the people responsible—me.
“I am,” said Ronin. The half-vampire scanned the crowd again, squinting beneath the floating lantern light while magical petals drifted through the air around us. Then he shook his head slowly. “Still can’t believe psycho Gorilla Barbie had a twin.”
“Technically,” I told him, “she’s not psycho yet.”
Ronin gave me a look.
“Okay fine.” I sighed. “Potentially psycho. Emotionally suspicious. Murdery Barbie lookalike.”
“Yeah, no offense, Tess, but if the dead evil ex-fiancée suddenly has a hot identical sister show up in town right after her mysterious prison death?” Ronin pointed both hands at me. “That’s not a coincidence. That’s the beginning of a murder documentary.”
A group of tiny witches suddenly ran past us chasing glowing butterflies while somewhere behind us Beverly’s voice rose. “Love is the true magic of spring.”
That was immediately followed by someone else yelling, “Why am I kissing my ex?”
Ronin winced. “Your family is exhausting.”
I sighed. “You’re not wrong.”
He leaned closer to me, lowering his voice slightly. “You really think this Addison is here for revenge?”
The question settled heavily in my stomach. Because the truth was… Yeah. I did.
Addison looked like the kind of woman who smiled politely while ruining your life piece by piece.
And that terrified me way more than screaming threats ever would.
“She looked at me like she already blamed me,” I admitted. “Like she’d spent years hearing about me.”
Ronin frowned slightly. “That’s creepy.”
“Very.”
“And she just conveniently shows up after Allison dies?”
“Yep.”
“And nobody knew she existed?”
“Also yep.”
Ronin shook his head slowly. “Man. I don’t like that. That’s horror movie behavior.”
He was right. Still, my nerves, my witchy instincts, would not calm down. Every time I thought about Addison standing on the edge of the crowd watching everything with that relaxed expression, my stomach tightened again.
She was up to something. I just didn’t know what yet. But I knew it.
The same way we witches sometimes just knew when magic felt wrong. Addison felt wrong. Like every word out of her mouth had already been rehearsed before she arrived in Hollow Cove.
Ronin nudged my shoulder lightly. “Hey.”
I looked up.
“If she tries anything,” he said, his voice softer now beneath all the sarcasm, “we deal with it. Okay?”
Warmth flickered briefly through my chest. Because Ronin joked constantly. Complained constantly. But when things got serious? He always showed up.
I smiled faintly. “You saying that because you care about me or because you want permission to punch somebody?”
Ronin thought about it. “Little column A. Little column violence.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then my eyes drifted instinctively back toward the crowd again, searching.
A loud shriek suddenly erupted somewhere behind us followed by crashing.
I closed my eyes. Festival disaster had begun early this year.
“Tessa!” yelled Dolores from across the square. “Where are the beast handlers?”
“I don’t know!” I yelled back.
“You’re hosting the ceremony!” she hollered.
“That still feels fake when you say it!”
My aunt stood near the main stage holding a clipboard with enough authority to legally overthrow governments. Her dark blue coat flowed behind her while volunteers scattered around her like frightened pigeons.
Mayor Dolores Davenport had officially entered full festival-war-general mode. Which meant nobody was safe, nothing was organized enough, and someone would cry before lunch. Probably me.
“Move the potion booth three feet left!” Dolores barked.
“It’s already left,” complained a volunteer I recognized as a male White witch who owned the thrift shop Hex Marks the Spot.
“Then more left!” ordered Dolores.
Iris appeared beside me carrying a tray of black candles and looking beautifully gothic in a short black lace dress, knee-high boots, dark red lipstick and perfect black liquid eyeliner.
A black cloth bag hung around her shoulders.
The large square object poking through told me she’d brought Doris with her, her DNA album of all things paranormal.
“The magical matchmaking booth exploded,” she informed me calmly.
I stared at her. “What?”
“One of Martha’s enchanted compatibility charms malfunctioned,” she added.
“Right.” I looked over the crowd and spotted a plump woman in her early sixties standing near a booth.
Martha, a White witch and owner of Hot Mess Witch beauty salon.
Her long, flowing dress of loud patterns in a mix of yellow and green billowed around her.
Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, showing off her bejeweled glasses. She caught me staring and waved.
I waved back.
“There’s now a werewolf emotionally bonded to an orchid.”
I laughed. “Can it be undone?”
Iris considered that. “Maybe emotionally. Spiritually? Hard to say.”
Wonderful.