Chapter Twenty-Four Lyra
The meeting of the Charms took place in the library, a room Sloane basically lived in now, and I couldn’t say I blamed her.
With bookshelves that went all the way to the high ceilings, three rolling ladders, several deep leather couches, a fireplace, and large paned windows that overlooked Briarhaven, it was atmospheric in the best way possible.
Though right now, all I could see through those big windows were the softly twinkling lights of the houses in town, even though it was just shy of nine in the morning.
Admittedly, I didn’t stare out of this window down at Briarhaven at night all that much, but the town seemed darker to me today.
Was it just my mood? Had the knife incident yesterday and subsequent interaction with Rab dulled my usual optimism?
Because even though the house lights shone brightly, the streets were shrouded in a thick gloom, and from here I couldn’t make out a single tourist wandering the cobblestone streets.
It could just be my mind playing tricks on me.
“Cuppa tea?” Sloane asked from behind me, where Henry had set up tea and biscuits on a long table that could easily seat sixteen people.
“Aye, thanks.” I tore my gaze away from the window. “Does the town seem… darker to you? Or am I just not used to looking at it from here?”
“Oh no, it’s definitely darker.”
I turned to see Tam in the doorway, wearing dark denim jeans, a soft blue jumper, and black Sambas with blue stripes.
“It is?”
Behind her, Deidre, our resident house witch, followed with a phone pressed to her ear.
“Right, I’ll get back to you with a counteroffer shortly.
Yes, I understand.” She wore a smart black suit with a red blouse and typed furiously into her phone as she beelined for the table.
“Good morning, ladies. I’ll be with you in just a minute.
I have to submit a counter on a house I’m selling on Marigold Lane. ”
“That’s a pretty street,” Tam observed, coming over to give me a hug. “Hopefully some fun new neighbors.”
“I don’t know about ‘fun.’ ” Deidre pursed her lips as she typed with one hand and poured herself tea with the other. “But he’s a cash buyer and might open a tattoo shop here.”
“He what?” Nova’s head snapped up from where she was doodling on her phone.
“That’s right. I’m working on more than one transaction for him. He may secure the shop at the end of main. Gilda’s Gifts? They’re looking to retire.”
“Gilda’s been leaving pamphlets for world cruises under George’s coffee cup for years now.” Tam smirked.
“Why is the town darker?” I asked, trying to cut through the gossip and get to how else my curse was wrecking Briarhaven. Guilt had already taken up permanent residence in my stomach, and now that the threat was escalating, it had started carving out extra rooms.
“The streetlamps are solar,” Tam explained.
I closed my eyes. “Of course.”
“They’ve got batteries, and they can store power for a while, but since it’s been full dark for well over a week now, they’ve finally kicked it.
The streets are totally dark.” Tam took a seat and poured herself a glass of water.
Usually, she was as optimistic as I was, but now I could see the tension lines fanning from the corners of her eyes.
“It’s not safe. I saw people wearing headlamps and reflective vests to cross the street today. ”
“That’s our first order of business,” Sloane promised.
“Lyra.” Raven swept in in a swirl of velvet skirts and crossed over to give me a hug. “How are you today?”
“Better. Much better. Thank you so much.” I squeezed her back, inhaling lavender. “Your magick is very powerful. I swear I’ll be healed up by the weekend.”
“As you should be. Henry’s excellent, and so am I, if I do say so myself.” Raven laughed, tossing her tumbling hair, then joined the others at the table.
Broca strolled in on Henry’s arm in a sequined jumper and wide-legged trousers, and we all made our way to sit. Henry bowed out, promising he was nearby if we needed more food or drink, before closing the library doors behind him.
We were just settling when those same doors opened again.
Felicity slipped in first, clutching a massive travel mug, her hair in a messy bun. She looked a bit washed out but determined. Right behind her, Mandy swept through in a black tweed Chanel jacket, dark jeans, and an expression that suggested the room smelled faintly of rubbish.
“Well,” Mandy said, arching a brow as her gaze skimmed all of us at the table, “I wasn’t going to miss a mandatory Charms meeting, now, was I?”
Ruth, tucked into the collar of my jumper, poked her head out.
The prickly one came back. Interesting.
“Like all the ones you missed over the past year?” Nova raised a brow.
“Come in, both of you,” Sloane said, giving Nova a pointed look, and then gesturing to the empty chairs. “Grab tea, biscuits, whatever you need. We’re starting properly now.”
I watched Sloane to see how she would react to Mandy’s appearance at the meeting, but her expression gave nothing away. It was why she made a good president, I realized, pride for my older sister filling me.
Felicity hurried to sit while Mandy took her time settling, stirring sugar into her cup as if she was judging the entire coven and finding us wanting.
When everyone was finally ready, Sloane rested her palms on the table and exhaled. For a heartbeat, she just looked at us, one by one, her eyes serious.
“Okay,” she said, clearing her throat. “Before we dive in… I just want to mark this moment.”
Nova groaned softly. “Oh goddess, she’s going to make a speech.”
“Shut it,” Sloane said without heat. “It is a big deal. My sister was seriously hurt. I’m traumatized. But we still have to mark this moment as this is the first time since I became president that we have the entire coven in one room. All of us. At the same table.”
The words sank in. Even Mandy’s posture softened a fraction.
Broca smiled, lines creasing at the corners of her eyes. “Took you all long enough.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Sloane finished, a little gruffly. “Whether you’re thrilled about it or not.”
Mandy sniffed. “Let’s not get sentimental. It might stain my jacket.”
But she didn’t get up and walk out, and that said more than anything.
“All right.” Sloane straightened the coven notebook in front of her. “Two big things on the agenda. First we need to have a quick check-in about what happened yesterday”—she glanced at me, then Felicity—“and second, the curse. The darkness. The owls. All of it.”
A tense breath left me in a small woosh.
Felicity’s fingers tightened on her mug. “I just want to say before anyone says anything else… I’m so, so sorry, Lyra. I know I said it last night and sent that ridiculous fruit basket and texted you but—”
“It was a very fancy fruit basket,” Nova put in. “I stole the kiwi.”
I’d never even seen the fruit basket, but I just nodded along with what Felicity was saying.
Felicity’s mouth wobbled. “I feel sick every time I think about it. If it had been an inch higher—”
“It wasn’t,” I said quickly. Remembering the knife sliding into my side made my skin prickle, but I forced a smile. “You were carrying too much, the floor was wet, I have the grace of a newborn giraffe… it was an accident. We all know that.”
Sloane inclined her head. “We do. I went over the CCTV with Henry. It looked like a slapstick sketch with a tragic twist. No one’s getting punished, no one’s getting kicked out, and I think that knives need to be carried with much more care. Agreed?”
A soft chorus of “Agreed!” went round the table.
I still think Felicity deserved to be stabbed back.
“Ruth,” I whispered.
“What did she say?” Raven asked, eyes bright with curiosity.
“She maintains her very strong ‘stab first, ask questions later’ stance.” I sighed.
Tam snorted. Felicity gave Ruth a wary look. “I, um, guess I can’t blame her.”
“Good.” Sloane clapped her hands once. “We’re done with that, then. Everyone’s alive, mostly healed, and our takeaway is we need protective sheaths for all sharp objects. Moving on.”
“See, this is why I came,” Mandy said, leaning back. “I missed the part where we establish better stab-avoidance protocols.”
Broca fixed her with a look. “You came because you’re still a Charm, whether you like it or not. And because you love the drama.”
Mandy pursed her lips but didn’t argue.
Sloane exhaled and flipped open the thick, leather-bound coven book. “All right. Curse time. The darkness is starting to cause very real harm to the town.”
“The solar streetlamps are dead,” Tam said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. “Kids are walking to school in the dark with headlamps on and carrying flashlights. The tourists think it’s vaguely spooky and fun now, but our bookings for next week have tanked. People are canceling.”
“Briarhaven’s reputation is taking a hit,” Deidre added. “Social media is already whispering about strange weather patterns and unnatural darkness. I’ve had two buyers pause their contracts.”
Guilt surged again, and I folded my fingers around my teacup so tightly I was afraid it would break.
This is not all on you, Ruth said sternly in my head. Curses are group projects. Blame the ancestor who started it, not the one who inherited it.
“On top of that,” Raven said, “the owls are struggling. Their hunting patterns are completely thrown. They relied on daylight for hunting. This endless midnight is confusing their instincts.”
Some of us do not feel bad for the owls. Ruth shivered against my neck.
“We like owls,” Tam said. “We just don’t like them dive-bombing our familiars.”
“So.” Sloane leaned on her elbows. “We need ideas. Practical ones. Magical ones. Anything that keeps the town safe, keeps the tourists calm, and stops the local wildlife from going feral.”
“We can get the streetlights off solar,” Tam said. “That’s a practical thing. Wire them into the main supply. It’ll take some work, but it’s possible.”
“Henry’s already pulled the permits form,” Sloane said. “Knox is talking to the council. But that only solves the lamp problem. The sky will still look… wrong.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Raven said, perking up.
“Since we can’t fix the sky yet, we might be able to manage how people perceive it.
If we weave a very gentle illusion spell into something communal—like the teas or the pastries at the bakery, or even the mulling spices the pub uses—we could help nudge visitors and locals into believing the darkness is just unusually heavy cloud cover. ”
Deidre’s eyebrows shot up. “Involuntary mass suggestion. Bold.”
“Not suggestion,” Raven protested. “It wouldn’t change anyone’s thoughts or emotions.
Just… cushion their perception. Enough that when they look outside and think, This feels wrong, their mind naturally supplies, Oh, Scottish winter gloom—happens every decade or so.
We’re just giving them a comfortable explanation so they don’t spiral or start rumors about curses. ”
“That… actually isn’t a terrible idea,” Mandy said before she could stop herself. She caught me looking and snapped her gaze away. “If we’re trying to keep the town from hemorrhaging tourists, this is better than letting the conspiracy groups descend on Briarhaven.”
Raven nodded eagerly. “Exactly. A mild perception veil could buy us time, you know, to actually address the curse instead of putting out fires.”
“We’d need the whole town on script,” Deidre said thoughtfully. “If someone asks why it’s pitch-black at 9 a.m., the shops and cafés can all answer the same way… freak atmospheric inversion, a weird solar flare bringing early winter hours… whatever.”
Broca nodded. “People believe the truth they’re most comfortable with. If ninety percent of the town treats this like an odd weather event, the other ten percent will follow along.”
Tam tapped her fingers on the table. “All right. Raven’s perception-cushion spell goes on the board. It’ll help with morale, even if it doesn’t solve the underlying issue.”
“And we need morale,” Sloane agreed. “Briarhaven is deeply unhappy, and we all know that, historically, does not go well for us.”
“Light tunnels,” Nova suggested. When we all stared, she shrugged. “I saw them in Norway once. Big mirrored arches that reflect any available light. We could enchant crystals and hang them along the main street. At least give people somewhere that feels brighter, even if the sky’s still black.”
“That could help with the owls too,” Tam mused. “If we build enchanted light paths in the forest that mimic dusk, we might be able to lure wildlife there at predictable times. The owls could adjust their hunting patterns and stop stalking alleyways looking for fluttermice.”
I strongly vote for the owl redirection plan. Ruth hopped onto the table in front of me and put her paw in the air.
“All right,” I said. “Raven and I can look into it. I’m happy to try anything to help.”
We’ll try, Ruth corrected. I am extremely good at stabbing things that threaten you.
“Any other ideas?” Sloane asked, looking round.
“We need a PR campaign to manage public mood,” Deidre said. “We need to keep spirits up. If people start talking about leaving, we’re sunk. Maybe extra events at the pub. Quiz nights. Free hot chocolate in the square at noon so people still feel the rhythm of the day.”
“I can ask Marcie to do a special midday menu at Mystic Munchies,” I offered. “Keep things cozy.”
“Perfect,” Sloane said. She sat back. “Look at us. An actual functioning coven.”
“Don’t get carried away,” Mandy muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched.
Before Sloane could respond, the library doors swung open.
“No need for glowworms, ladies,” Knox announced, strolling in. Rab walked at his side, hands in his pockets, looking annoyingly edible in a tartan flannel shirt. My heart did a little inappropriate flip.
“Why’s that?” Sloane beamed up at Knox as he bent to kiss her cheek.
“See, there’s this little-known magick called… electricity.” Knox laughed and slung an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll get the streetlights wired properly. I’ve already got an electrician lined up and the council mostly on board.”
“Of course you do,” Sloane said, eyes soft. “Show-off.”
“Just doing my part to impress the president,” he said. “Morning, Charms.”
“Morning,” we chorused.
Rab’s gaze snagged on mine for a second, and something unreadable shifted in the depths of his eyes. My pulse skittered.
“Right,” Sloane said briskly. “Then I think, for now, we’ve got a plan—”
She broke off, her mouth falling open as she stared at me.
I frowned and followed her gaze.
A hedgehog lay on its back in the middle of the table where my teacup had been a heartbeat ago, tiny paws curled in the air in sleepy confusion.
My gaze flew to Rab.
The corners of his mouth lifted in a slow, knowing grin.
Mandy looked between us, then at the hedgehog, and burst out laughing.
I buried my face in my hands. Seriously? This had to happen now? My humiliation was complete.