Chapter 6
Sabine
I’d named the log at the cliff lookout my secret spot, even though it acted as the secret spot for just about every witch who’d ever discovered it—which was the majority of the camp.
It was clearly a popular hookup location, given the number of initials that had been carved into the wood beneath me.
From here, I could see Lake Nevermore stretching all the way to the swamp just outside Maple Hollow.
My hometown was so close that I could feel the watchful eyes of all the townsfolk from my clifftop seat.
Even here, in the middle of this beautiful forest, I could feel the pressure and expectations of witches past.
I blew out a long breath, knowing that if I didn’t return to camp soon, a sneaky owl would be sent out to find me.
But before I had a chance to rise, my serenity was ruined by enough twig-snapping that I presumed it was a lumbering bear.
I was about to cast a warding spell when I heard a string of muttered curses.
“All this fucking nature,” a voice rasped. “Why would anyone choose to go hiking? If you enjoy hiking, tell me in the comments.”
Was this invisible voice . . . vlogging?
I finally spied her just downhill from me, a lost camper who was bumbling her way through the thorny underbrush. Meanwhile, the actual path was only three feet to her left, if she just bothered to look uphill.
“This whole place is the freakiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said while holding her phone at an angle. “Seriously, you wouldn’t even believe me if I tried to describe it to you.”
My brows pinched in confusion. She sounded like a human, but the camp was spelled to permit only witches within its borders. Even the local Maple Hollow ghosts couldn’t get in without an invite. So she had to be a witch. A very confused, disoriented witch.
Despite her bewilderment, she was beautiful with her midnight hair cut in a French bob, dark eyes, dramatic winged liner, and bloodred lipstick.
She was tall and lithe—probably five ten, at least—with a willowy build that would’ve made me guess she was a dancer, if not for her terrible posture and her inability to navigate around a fallen log without tumbling face-first into a pile of leaves.
Her attire was incredibly inappropriate for the great outdoors—skintight black leather pants, a crop top, and chunky heels.
Heels! In the forest!
I didn’t recognize her and presumed she was a first-year camper from out of town. And judging by her attire, I guessed she wasn’t from another outdoorsy town, but rather someplace more exciting.
Who was she?
I decided to take pity on her. The last thing I needed was to have a new camper die on my watch, especially since I knew Dagmar was keeping an extra-close eye on me. This was my last year and then I was out. There could be no mistakes, especially new campers dying of exposure.
“Hey!” I called to the witch.
She screeched and spun in my direction, her free hand lifted like she might karate chop me.
My lips curved at the sight. Great, she wasn’t just clumsy and sexy. She was adorable too.
“Practicing some impromptu self-defense in the woods?” I called.
“N-no?” she answered like it was a question, finally dropping her defensive stance and slipping her phone into her pocket.
“Are you lost?”
She squinted up at the sky. “I just came from checking in and thought I’d go for a little walk.”
I looked at my watch, then back at her. “Check-in closed two hours ago, so you’ve been walking in circles since then.”
Her brow furrowed as she twirled around to get her bearings, and her duffel snagged on a patch of brambles. “How far are we from camp?”
I stifled a laugh, not having the heart to tell her that if she took the path, the rec center was only a ten-minute walk away. “Not too far. What’s your name?”
“Gwen,” she said as she brushed her sweaty bangs off her forehead. “Listen, if you could not tell anyone you saw me and just point me in the direction of the witchy pumpkin town, I’d appreciate it.”
My shoulders shook with unrestrained laughter.
When I didn’t immediately reply, she asked, “You’re not going to put me in your stew or something, are you?”
I grinned. “I’m not that kind of witch.”
“So why aren’t you back at camp?”
“The same as you, I think,” I admitted. “I’m debating if I should run away.”
Gwen seemed almost relieved at that.
“Look, why don’t you come sit down and take a water break?” I offered my sticker-covered water bottle to her. I’d etched a spell on the bottom that kept it ice cold.
Gwen’s eyes flared like she’d been walking through the desert for a week. She bumbled her way back onto the path and plunked down on the log next to me. This close, she smelled like night-blooming flowers and slivers of moonlight on midnight sand. Dark and magical.
My eyes roved over her face, indulging themselves. “I’m Sabine.”
“Very witchy name,” she replied between gulps of water.
I shrugged. “Well, we are witches, aren’t we?”
“I wasn’t,” Gwen said, passing me back my bottle. She patted her mouth dry with her fingers, and I was impressed to see not a single smudge of the crimson on her full lips. “Or at least, I didn’t know I was one until last week.”
I quirked a brow at her. “Where are you from?”
“Most recently, New York.”
“Most recently?” I mused. “But where did you grow up?”
“Everywhere,” she replied with a shrug. “Baltimore, Tokyo, Indianapolis, London, Boston, Singapore, San Diego, you name it. My parents’ work took us all over.”
“Wow, jealous,” I said. “You must have had a million crazy adventures. I’ve always wanted to live somewhere other than Buttfucksville Hollow.”
She laughed, and it was low and rasping, like she’d just smoked a pack of cigarettes, but I didn’t smell them on her and doubted she partook.
“Really?” Gwen cocked her head. “I’ll admit, it seems like growing up in a spooky little town would be kind of . . . enchanting?”
I eyed her. “I don’t know if we’re at the pun level of our relationship yet, Gwen,” I teased.
Her cheeks pinked at that statement, and my eyes instinctively dropped to her lips before I cleared my throat.
“I probably shouldn’t be out here alone with a first year.
My older sister already has a reputation for philandering with younger witches. ”
She snorted. “I’m probably older than you,” she countered. “What does the mustard T-shirt mean? Nineteen?”
I frowned at my shirt. “Twenty-one as of three weeks ago.”
“Ah, happy belated birthday,” she said with a nod. “You are older than me, but by only seven months.”
“And yet you’re a first year?” I asked. “I definitely would’ve remembered you if you were at camp last year.”
Not a lie. She was gorgeous. She had a sort of grumpy yet elfin quality about her, like a goth Galadriel. I might find Gwen equally at home at a punk dive in the city or secretly living under a Victorian toadstool.
“If it’s so great here,” she said, pulling me from my wistful thoughts, “then why are you thinking about leaving?”
I grimaced. I probably shouldn’t have admitted that I was debating running away.
Gwen flashed me a “gotcha” smile. The way she crinkled her button nose . . .
“I don’t think I’m really a small-town sort of person, that’s all. What I really want to do is move to a big city like New York. I want to be in a place that has more going on than just the paranormal. There’s only so many times you can go apple picking, you know?”
“I actually have no idea.”
I sighed and looked back out at the lake. “I just want to be adventurous and have experiences that I can’t have in Maple Hollow, without every person who’s known me for my entire life watching and judging me for it. To make mistakes. To be anonymous . . .”
Gwen let out a sad laugh. “I’ve only ever been anonymous or had the ‘new girl’ target on my back.
Either a shiny new object for people or the object of their constant bullying—or both.
Always an outsider,” she said. “It’s really not all it’s cracked up to be.
But if you’re craving a big city, there’s no better place than New York.
” She considered me, pursing her lips as those dark eyes scanned me up and down.
“If that’s what you really want, why not just go? ”
“Because Iris thinks I’ll hit menopause and change my mind,” I said with a chuckle.
“If I complete this year, I’ll always be a part of the coven.
I’ll always have a place to come back to.
Not that they’d shun me or anything if I didn’t, but I wouldn’t be a part of the magic anymore.
To be fair, I wouldn’t be surprised if menopause suddenly makes you want to cast spells and hexes, so yeah, seems like I should just stick it out. ”
“Who’s Iris?”
“My older sister,” I said. “And one of the other counselors. One who volunteers to come back year after year just for the fun of it,” I added with an eye roll.
“You’re really not selling this place to me.”
“Honestly, it’s not bad at all,” I corrected, realizing I was being the worst camp counselor ever. “I just wanted something different for myself.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Listen.” I turned to her and reached into my cargo shorts pocket.
My hand closed around one of the twin friendship bracelets I’d freshly woven.
“If you wish you weren’t so anonymous, if you want to have a group you could always belong to and come back to, who would always have your back no matter what, this is it. ”
“It sounds like a cult.”
“Isn’t every coven?” When her eyebrows lifted, I leaned in and added, “That was a joke.”
She flashed a tight smile. “It’s just a lot to take in.”
“Give it a summer,” I pushed. “Just one. If it’s awful, you don’t have to come back next year.”
“Does that mean you’re going to stick it out this year too?”
I studied her, my gaze falling into those dark eyes that sparkled like twilight. “I’ll stay if you stay.” I fished out the friendship bracelet and passed it to her. “Here.”
She studied the glittering gemstones woven together with black cord. “A friendship bracelet?”
“Not just a normal friendship bracelet. These are imbued with magic.”
“Magical friendship bracelets?”
“Welcome to witchy summer camp,” I teased. “These ones are exactly what you’d think—they symbolize friendship. They’re meant to remind you that you’re not alone here. And if ever you need me, rub these stones and I’ll know to come find you.”
“Wow.” She gaped down at the bracelet as I slid one on, and she followed suit. “That’s actually really nice of you.”
She flipped her arm over, trying to tighten it.
“Let me,” I offered, tying the loose threads. My fingers slid along the inside of her wrist, and the hairs on her arms rose at the accidental touch. I grinned. “There.”
“Fine, then.” Her lips curved ever so slightly. “These bracelets are a deal between us now too.”
Intrigued, I asked, “What is that?”
“I’ll stay if you stay,” she said, and one of the stones turned a brilliant lavender. She gasped then looked at my bracelet, which had turned the same color, binding us to our deal.
“Look at you,” I said. “We’ll have you flying on broomsticks in no time.” I stood, took her duffel bag, and slung it over my shoulder. “Come on, let’s get back to camp. I’ll stay if you stay.”
“Okay,” she said, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling.
I followed her back down the path with a giant grin on my face. Maybe this summer wouldn’t be so bad.
I decided to let Gwen enjoy this moment and not tell her that we’d have to confiscate her phone and delete her vlogging confessions about our camp when we got back to the cabins.
One rule at a time.