Chapter 27 #2
The dark slip of Gavin McCreery stepped up behind his girlfriend, regarding the proceedings with a neutral expression. He’d always been difficult to read, and he’d used that to hide the degree to which he was working against the deal Goshen had been trying to cut with his father.
Annoyance sparked in Hayleigh’s chest at their aggression. These two had beaten her, ruined her reputation, and set her on a path that, in concert with the curse, had cost her everything.
What right did Rowan have to act like the injured party? You’d think she’d at least be magnanimous in victory. That would have been irritating but at least understandable.
Still, she was going to have to be the bigger person here. It was the only way forward. “I can go if it’s going to be a problem. I’ll hang out in the car.”
“No, you will not,” said Stephan. “It’s freezing out there.”
“Drop me off back at the church, then,” said Hayleigh with a shrug.
“You leave, and I’m going too.”
“Stephan!” gasped Rowan. At that moment, Liliana Midwinter walked out of the kitchen and positioned herself between them. Power and authority had always radiated from the head of the Elk Ridge coven.
“This is the longest night,” said Liliana. “We aren’t kicking anyone out.” Her smile was cool as she looked at Hayleigh from within a crown of graying auburn curls. “You’re welcome to stay, so long as you didn’t come with another buyout plan?”
Hayleigh laughed harshly at that and gestured at what she was wearing—the dreaded Christmas Vacation sweater and a pair of acid-washed jeans.
“Do I look like I am in any position to do that? Goshen screwed me just as hard as it screwed any of you. Harder, actually…” She looked pointedly at Rowan.
“Since at the end of the day, you got what you wanted. I’m no threat to anyone here.
Also, I…” She glanced at Stephan. “Stephan’s helped me better understand what you all do.
So if you’re worried I’d be weird about your traditions—”
“Like you were last year,” said Rowan.
She gritted her teeth but refused to be baited. “You don’t have to worry about that this time.” Hayleigh looked Rowan directly in the eye. “I’m sorry.”
Rowan’s eyes widened, and Birdie swept across the room to envelop Hayleigh with robed arms. “And we accept your apology. Join in the fun, dear girl. Allow me to introduce you to my lover, Roy Joseph.”
The man with a long white ponytail and a face full of laugh lines stepped up, his skin glowing copper in the house’s festive lights, to give her a hearty shake of the hand. Stephan’s dad, Joe Midwinter, followed at his side.
Joe might once have been as tall as his son, but the weight of the years had taken a few inches off.
His blond hair had lightened nearly to white, and though it had receded at the temples, it was still thick and healthy otherwise.
His work as the local high school’s history teacher was obvious on the room’s bookshelves.
“We’re glad to have you, Hayleigh,” said Joe. “There’ll be a whole little crew of us ‘nonmagics’ here when they go out and do their thing.”
A scrawny-looking middle-aged man who carried the particular skunky, burned-earth smell of marijuana walked up and stuck out his hand. “Welcome to the family. I’m Drew. Stephan’s uncle.”
Her cheeks colored as she avoided looking at Stephan. “I’m not, we’re not…”
Drew ignored her, continuing on, “Over there’s Kel…
” He gestured to the only non-adult in the room, a bored-looking Goth teen on a couch whose appearance spurned identifiable gender.
After a moment, Hayleigh recognized them as the sewing shop employee.
They gave a brief, unimpressed wave and returned to their phone.
“My kid. Magical prodigy. Total genius. Addicted as hell to that phone, though.”
“Not addicted,” muttered Kel, without looking up. “Just disinterested.”
“Addicted.”
Stephan engaged his uncle in a discussion about Drew’s business—which sounded an awful lot like dealing drugs—and Hayleigh let her eyes and mind roam around the room. Rowan and Zaide had disappeared, but Gavin lingered by the food, nibbling on a sugar cookie.
“Excuse me,” she said, leaving them to discuss what she remained convinced was the cultivation and sale of illicit substances.
She sidled up to the spread of food opposite Gavin, nibbling on a rosemary shortbread so light and buttery it melted the instant it touched her tongue.
Avoiding meeting his gaze directly, she studied the table decorations.
There was a platter of plump oranges studded with brown cloves, as well as a wide silver bowl stamped with vining ivy and berries.
A pile of pens and slips of paper sat beside it.
“You write a word or short phrase you want to define your next year and then drop it in the bowl.” Hayleigh looked up to see Gavin gazing at her from across the table.
He shot her his characteristic half smile, the extent of what he was generally willing to express.
“But be careful what you write, because it is binding.”
“So you put down what you want to manifest?” The word slid out with an old, well-practiced skepticism.
“As I understand it.” He scrawled something in careful, looping handwriting on one of the slips.
She tried to sneak a peek at what he’d written, but he folded it up too quickly and dropped it in the bowl.
In what was apparently the final step, he took a pinch of something fragrant from a ramekin and sprinkled it all over.
The moment the powder touched the paper, there was a bright flash and the earthy smell of sage, and the paper vanished completely.
Binding.
“So, what’d you write?”
He flashed her a look. “None of your business.”
“Fair.” She took another nibble of her cookie, surprised when he didn’t immediately walk away. “What do you think about…all this?”
“You mean…witchcraft?” asked Gavin, arching a brow. Hayleigh nodded in confirmation. “I think it’s a big part of why Rowan is who she is, and that makes me open to it.”
“What a very ‘you’ response.” She pinched a slip of paper and stared at it, wondering what sort of word could possibly encapsulate all her hopes for the year to come.
“Why are you here, Hayleigh?”