Chapter 13
Sabine
“Rainy days are fun, team!” Iris cheered, attempting to pep up the depressed campers to no avail. Two weeks had passed, and still the skies hadn’t cleared. It was the wettest summer on record for Lake Nevermore.
Iris and I were assigned to the art hut for the next hour, and my older sister was determined to make the most of it.
“We’ve got multiple craft options set up, and the woodworking tools are available, but you’ll need to take turns.
I’m working on this découpage cat for the apothecary. Who wants to découpage with me?”
No one responded, the silence accentuated by the sound of pouring rain on waterlogged grass.
“Just let them sulk, Iris. It’s fine,” I muttered, reclining my chair until I was practically prone. “Witches love sulking. It’s good for our complexions.”
“Fine,” she said, grabbing another colorful piece of tissue paper.
At least Astrid had joined the wildflower-pressing group, so I wouldn’t be forced to slowly edge my seat away from her for the next hour.
“We want to swim,” one camper lamented.
“Not until the storm passes,” I repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. I darted a look at the gray skies and the streaks of lightning bursting through the midday gloom. “The last thing we need is for someone to get electrocuted.”
“Can’t we just do a warding spell on the lake?” another asked.
I raised my eyebrows incredulously. Ah, to be a young, optimistic witch.
“Do you know how much power that takes to sustain?” I asked. “I’m not blowing my magical load on fighting storms just so you can swim.”
The group chuckled, and Iris elbowed me. “Can you not say blowing your load to our campers, please?” she griped from the corner of her mouth.
I shot my sister a look. “They’re nineteen, not six.”
“What if we were in the canoes?” the main lamenter, Phoebe, suggested.
I fished in my cargo shorts pocket and pulled out a wad of tangled friendship bracelets. I selected the citrine one for patience and tossed it to her.
“Listen, Pheebs,” I said. “I love the initiative, but lightning can find canoes too, okay?” I stood and stretched. “How about I sneak into the mess hall and steal some of those white chocolate macadamia nut cookies that I know Nancy keeps hidden in the pantry, hmm?”
That perked them up. It didn’t matter that they weren’t children; sugar was still the best form of bribery.
I opened the art hut door and frowned at the deluge. “Wish me luck!” I called and barreled headfirst into the rainstorm, facing my odds of getting struck by lightning rather than enduring one more minute of my sister’s peppiness and the campers’ whining.
The kickball field was sodden, and my sneakers squelched through the grass and muck in my mad dash to the mess hall.
When I barreled through the door, I skidded to a halt and shook myself off like a dog on the entry mat. I’d made it only three steps toward the kitchen when a person in the corner snagged my attention.
Gwen was curled up in a bean bag chair by the Take a Book, Leave a Book shelf.
She looked positively cozy with the rain tapping on the windowpane above her head and a knitted blanket spread across her legs.
Her forehead was wrinkled in serious contemplation, and I wished I could freeze that moment and just watch her, but Gwen looked up at me, her mouth falling open.
I realized that my mustard top was clinging to my frame like something out of a wet T-shirt contest. I quickly folded my arms across my chest, trying to hide my pointy nipples.
“Hey,” I said as she snapped the book shut. “I thought Flower Moon cabin was meant to be learning about the history of the occult.”
“We were,” she replied. “But they finished early after the counselor fell asleep face-first in an old tome. Everyone went back to the cabin to gossip about boys and stuff.”
I chuckled. “And you didn’t want to gossip about boys and stuff? I mean, didn’t you have a boyfriend before he became a toad?”
“I had a human boyfriend,” she amended. “Witches really don’t want to hear about that, and I don’t know the first thing about dating monsters.”
“You’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”
“I think I’d be more interested in dating other witches, if anything,” she said flippantly.
I noted the pointedly casual way in which she threw that statement out there.
Her eyes looked everywhere but me, and when I laughed, it finally pulled them to mine. She studied my expression as if watching to see how that statement would land.
I forced myself not to move too quickly as I offered her a hand and helped her out of the bean bag chair. What was it with the hand offering? When had I turned into such a hands-on helper? I knew the answer: I just wanted any excuse to touch her.
Goddess, I was such an idiot.
“That’s probably the best option,” I said as I bent and picked up her book. “An Abridged History of the Summer Camp for Man-Hating Witches.” I chuckled and looked at her. “I mean, can you blame us? A man, singular, is tolerable enough, but men together?” I scrunched my nose.
Gwen laughed. “Warranted.” She took the book back from me and returned it to the shelf. “I just wanted to understand why my mom had to leave. Are no human men welcome in Maple Hollow at all?”
“They aren’t banned, per se,” I hedged. “The ones who respect the town and, well, people in general can stay.”
“And the others?”
“They are . . . discouraged by the accountability that they face.”
“Discouraged?”
“It’s just, most of them don’t like being called out on their shit or having a taste of their own medicine, you know?
” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Like, goddess help any human who walks into town calling himself an alpha male when he bumps into an actual wolfpack leader, or if a man wants a vampire whom he gropes to give him ‘the benefit of the doubt’ instead of making his evening into a living nightmare.”
Gwen snorted. “Now that I’d love to see.”
“It’s truly glorious. And you will be able to see it when you join the coven.”
“Ah, nice try.” She rolled her eyes at me. “Do you get a commission for successfully recruiting me or something?”
My expression softened. “Your mom wasn’t kicked out, just so you know,” I said, trying to be gentler.
“She chose to leave. I’ll admit, your dad might’ve had a hard time fitting in.
Not everyone has the constitution for succubi and headless pumpkin monsters, but from what Dagmar’s told me, they wanted a different life, one without magic. ”
“And that’s what you want?”
I rocked back on my heels, not expecting that question. “Yeah,” I said. “But I mean, I’ll come back and visit. I won’t cut out the entire town. If ever I have witchlings, I’d still want them to know where they come from.”
“Yeah. I’m sure my mom had her reasons.” She folded her arms, and I could see the weight of the secret pressing down on her. What must it feel like to have your own mother keep such a big part of your identity from you?
“I’m sure she did.” Goddess, I wanted to kiss that pout off her lips. “I’m just sorry you had to get caught up in whatever reasons those were.”
Gwen’s eyes softened at that, and I realized how close we were standing.
“Thanks,” she said, lifting a hand and mindlessly sweeping a strand of wet hair behind my ear. Then, she stilled and retracted her hand as if it had been burned. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She took a giant step back to make more space between us.
“It’s okay.” I shot my hands out, reassuring her. “Really. It’s no big deal.”
She straightened her shoulders. “No, I shouldn’t have done that. That was a really stupid thing to do. I . . .” She screwed her eyes shut, and when they opened, she looked at me with stubborn determination. “I don’t think we should do our witch lessons together anymore.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised at the bud of pain blooming in my chest. I wasn’t about to admit aloud that those lessons were my favorite part of the day. “Okay. Yeah. No big deal.”
“It’s just . . . Astrid already has a target on my back and—”
I growled.
“Astrid should play no part in your choices.”
“But she is a powerful witch who can make my life miserable. And yours,” she reminded me. “So she does play a part in my choices, whether I like it or not.”
“Gwen—”
“She clearly has a crush on you,” she blurted. “And us being in the same room together is going to make her try to destroy me, and I’m not powerful enough to go up against her. She has feelings for you, and it makes her dangerous.”
“I don’t feel the same way for her.”
“Good.” Her eyes widened, and it looked like she wished she could reach into the near past and yank that word out of the air.
“Good?” I asked with a surprised chuckle.
“Yeah. She’s awful.”
“Oh. I thought you were going to say it was because maybe you had a teeny-tiny crush on me yourself.”
“Maybe I do,” she hedged, licking her lips. And fuck me if I didn’t want to lean in and kiss her so badly it hurt.
“Maybe those feelings might be reciprocated,” I said breathlessly.
Gwen took another step back, practically toppling over the bean bag chair, and I reached out to steady her.
“Which is why we need to stay far, far away from each other,” she said, waving her arms into an X. “You’re a counselor, I’m a camper, and both of our lives could be royally fucked if Astrid suspects even the teeniest, tiniest crush between us.”
“I don’t like having my life controlled by Astrid Cunningham’s jealousy.”
“Neither do I, but that’s the way it is.”
“No,” I grumbled. I wanted to reach out and pull her to me before she officially closed whatever opening there could have been between us. But she was far nimbler than I was, and she easily side-stepped me with a sigh.
“Maybe after the summer’s over, if you move to the city. Maybe then I could get your number? That is, if you’re using a phone by then.”
I rolled my eyes. “I have a phone.”
“Good,” she said. “There’s a great bookstore just around the corner from me that I’d love to show you. Maybe buy you a coffee. Show you my favorite sights.”
The idea of the two of us living in the city and going out on the town thrilled me. So I forced a smile even as my gut clenched. “It’s a date.”