Chapter 8
Sabine
Dagmar really had a flair for drama.
Each year, it seemed to get more and more grandiose.
Her magic made the flames grow higher and shadows dance across the crowd.
The normally surly head counselor spoke to the new witches like they were her foot soldiers and she was their queen, pacing back and forth across the sand in front of the fire pit.
I watched from where I sat sandwiched between Iris and Ophelia as Dagmar regaled the new witches with the story of how, over two hundred years ago, our coven had done the pettiest thing we could have and named our summer camp after the moniker that the local gentleman’s club had given us.
They’d wanted man-hating witches? They’d gotten them.
Even though we’d changed our name in recent years, we still made sure the original was legible in its crossing out, even on the new T-shirts.
I bloomed with pride at that one.
No one messed with witches and got away with it.
Iris clapped enthusiastically, adding in hoots and cheers as Dagmar promised SCUW that we would win the end-of-summer games against the two other paranormal camps across the lake.
Camp Cryptwood was for monsters and vampires.
Generally, any kid from Maple Hollow could attend.
Lycanthrope Wilderness Camp was specifically for the teenage werewolves in the community.
Apparently, a half wolf, half vampire attended one year, but he left after only two days because of how insufferable the pack was.
I didn’t blame him.
Thank the goddess for the wards around SCUW or we’d have to deal with those howling miscreants all summer too.
“We will fight!” Dagmar shouted to the growing cheers of the camp. “We will claim victory! This is our year! For the coven!”
I rolled my eyes at the dramatics. The summer camp games were Dagmar’s Olympics. We’d lost the last three years in a row, and Dagmar was determined to put us back in the number-one slot.
When the group was sufficiently filled with sisterly camaraderie, we sang our witchy campfire songs and performed the usual cleansing and protection spells for the season.
I caught sight of Gwen across the campfire, the bright orange flames reflecting in her skeptically narrowed eyes, her winged eyeliner making her wariness even more evident.
If ever there was a black cat personified, it was her.
Good thing I was a witch and loved black cats.
I decided to make it my summer mission to win her over to the witchy way of things.
I still wanted to move to the city and start a new life, but I was a proud witch, and I wanted her to be one too.
Then maybe she and I could move to New York together and open a crystal shop or something . . .
Whoa! I quickly shut down that daydream. I shouldn’t be thinking about Gwen like that.
As if summoned by the thought, Gwen’s eyes met mine, and I hastily looked away.
Oh, she is a witch all right.
There was something incredibly hypnotic about her—her eyes, her aura, her presence, her lips . . .
A shoulder leaned into me, and I shot Iris a look. “What?”
“No campers,” she scolded in a taunting singsong.
“I know,” I whispered from the corner of my mouth. “I was just looking at the fire.”
“Uh-huh, sure you were.”
I scoffed, and Dagmar gave a quick glance in our direction. I cleared my throat, trying to play off the sound as an ill-timed cough.
“I’m not you,” I whispered to my sister, careful to keep my voice low. “I can control myself.”
“How dare you.” Iris feigned offense even though she was grinning. “Besides, I never looked at any of my hookups the way you look at her.”
“I don’t look at her like anything,” I muttered. “I just met her.” Iris smiled wider. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.” She kept smiling at me in that smug older sister way that made me want to erupt.
“I just want to make sure she doesn’t get chewed up and spit out by Astrid,” I gritted out.
“So caring all of a sudden,” Iris teased.
Dagmar said her final prayer and released us to say our own individual prayers beneath the full moon.
Everyone shot to their feet and extended their hands to the sky .
. . except for Gwen. She looked completely lost and embarrassed, her brows pinched in confusion.
It was too dark to see the blush on her cheeks, but I knew it would be there.
She nibbled the corner of her lip and panned her gaze around the fire.
I stood, wanting to rescue her from her nerves.
“Leave it alone, Iris.” I gave my sister one last warning look before making a beeline toward Gwen.
I made my way over within a few heartbeats, but watching her internally panic felt like a lifetime. Gwen’s eyes fixed on my extended hand, then pinged up to meet my gaze.
“Come on,” I said with an encouraging smile. “I’ll show you how to do it. It’s easy.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she started following me toward the edge of the lake without taking my hand. I wiped a sweaty palm down my shirt, needing something to do to cut the awkwardness.
Why were my palms sweaty? Why had I put my hand out like that?
That was a weird move.
I shouldn’t be offering to take campers by the hand and lead them off to a private prayer lesson.
But it was my job to help new campers fit in. I was being chivalrous and helpful. Or I’d clearly watched A Knight’s Tale one too many times.
We wandered away from the light of the bonfire and the watchful eyes of the rest of the camp, and Gwen let out a long sigh when we melted into the shadows.
“I’m never going to catch up to all of this,” she grumbled.
“I was on board with the camp chants. I even knew a couple of them from some of the movies I watched as a kid. But then you all started doing protection spells. Like, what? One second, this is normal summer camp, and the next, you’re casting luck magic to defeat a rival werewolf camp like it’s no big deal. ”
“You’ll get used to it,” I said. “It’s like eighty percent summer-camp team building and twenty percent witchy stuff.”
She eyed me with a frown. “Why do I have a feeling you’re padding out those percentages to make me feel better?”
My laugh was light and easy. “I’m not. I promise.”
“I think I should go.” She groaned. “I needed a How to Witch 101 course before coming here. I can’t believe my mom just sprang this on me and then dumped me here like I should just know how to be a witch when she never taught me anything.”
“I can teach you!” I offered a little too enthusiastically.
I felt my cheeks heat in embarrassment. I’d never been a particularly suave person, but Gwen made me extra jittery.
“I mean . . .” I cleared my throat. “I’ll teach you how to do this if you teach me how to be a city slicker like you one day. Fair?”
“First, never say city slicker again,” she said with a teasing laugh. Her bottom lip pulled to the side as she silently debated. “There’s nothing I could tell you that you couldn’t figure out for yourself. It’s not the same as you teaching me the basics of witchcraft.”
“Still, I’d appreciate the help,” I offered. “And the excuse to talk to someone who isn’t from Maple Hollow. I can’t tell anyone else about wanting to leave. They’d look at me like I’d sprouted a second head. I’m the only one in my year who wants something different for myself.”
“No one ever leaves?”
I shook my head as I walked to the very edge of the lake, my sneakers slipping into the wet sand.
“It really is a cult,” she mused.
“People leave, especially to other covens, but to flat-out leave a paranormal epicenter is kind of unusual. Magic users are ostracized and persecuted in the wider world. The coven doesn’t understand why anyone would want to live outside a supernatural safe haven.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Gwen hedged, staring up at the moon.
“But people do go sometimes,” I added. “Actually, my favorite camp counselor from three years ago left. I always looked up to her. She’s an artist in New York City now, has a loft in SoHo, so cool. She’s living the dream.”
“She must be a very good artist if she can afford to live in the city.” Gwen huffed. “But I accept your offer. I could probably ask Faith to help me, but she’s new to this coven, too, and everyone else looks at me like I stepped in dog shit, so . . .”
“It’ll go away as the summer goes on,” I reassured her. “Especially once we start preparing to take on the other camps. Nothing like a common enemy, eh? If you can help them win, then you’ll be a camp hero. That’s the way to their hearts. Show them your skills.”
She frowned at the sky, and I had no idea why, but it really made me want to kiss her until she was smiling. “What skills?”
“I don’t know. What’s your magical affinity?”
“My magical what?”
“What can you do with your magic?” I asked. “I am attuned to the healing arts—balms, elixirs. My older sister works in an apothecary. It runs in our family. What about you?”
“I—uh . . .” She looked down at a minnow swimming by her feet, and all of a sudden, a frog exploded from the water.
“Transformation,” I said with an approving nod. “Nice. That’s quite a powerful form of magic. Most witches will never achieve it.”
“So far, it’s only amphibians,” she muttered. “Are you going to change him back?”
“I won’t deplete my magic chasing a frog through the lake,” I said gently. “Let the minnow be a frog until the spell wears off.”
“It wears off?” she asked, and I realized there was so much about this world she didn’t know. How terrifying that must be. My admiration for her was growing by the second. How brave it was to just dive headfirst into this.
“I imagine for a new witch, the spell probably won’t last more than an hour.”
“Oh . . . well, that’s good for Brayden, I guess.”
“Who’s Brayden?”
“My ex-boyfriend,” she said, flashing me a grimace.
I clapped her on the shoulder. “Oh, sweet, sweet Gwen. You are most certainly a witch.”