Chapter One-Evie
Later that Same Day
After I left City Hall—finally freed from that creaky, bureaucratic crypt—I headed out to run a quick errand before meeting the Witch Trifecta at our usual ritual spot.
Just your average pre-bonfire pit stop.
No biggie.
My mind was buzzing louder than an entire Gremlin Hive on Red Bull.
Bella’s “maybe safe” calorie-reduction spell was still fresh on my mental playlist. My stomach, ever the opportunist, took that as an invitation to growl loud enough to scare a passing raccoon.
Then there was the firefighter shortage. We had exactly two on staff—one of whom was more flammable than helpful.
Not great when your town’s top three annual events involve open flames, enchanted fireworks, or rogue pyromancers.
Sheriff Davies had also hinted—again—that he was ready to retire and “finally spend some quality time ice fishing with Myrtle,” which was code for sit on his porch and complain about politics to his wife until she hexes him into a mute spell.
And of course, the eternal curse of Castor’s Corner. The parking situation.
Sigh. Deep, soul-weary, exhausted-Witch sigh.
Looking back now, maybe that was why the spell went sideways.
Or maybe it was because Donatella decided—on ritual night, no less—to bleach her midnight-black hair and go for teal with attitude.
The only thing that color had was regret.
Or perhaps it was Maribella’s fault.
She scorched the caramel filling for her dulce de leche doughnuts and refused to accept defeat, choosing instead to charm the bitterness out.
That poor doughnut ended up tasting like heartbreak and burned toast.
Any one of those things could’ve nudged the universe out of alignment.
Or maybe the stars were already misaligned.
Mercury was retrograde.
Or maybe fate just decided to fuck with us just for shits and giggles.
Whatever the reason, what should’ve been our usual full moon bonfire and standard-issue ward-strengthening spell turned into a clusterfuck of epic, spark-spitting, ley line-rattling proportions.
To summarize, we fucked up.
Big time.
And that’s how I found myself in the middle of my woods—post-spell, slightly singed, naked as the day I was born, and blinking at the sight of three tall, muscle-bound, sex-on-a-stick strangers standing in a patch of glowing ash like they’d just fallen out of a fantasy calendar.
They were definitely Shifters.
You could tell by the eyes.
And the aura.
And the fact that they smelled like fresh pine, testosterone, and bad decisions.
Their monster-sized SUV sat dead right behind them, somehow not even dusty despite the mud and dirt on the road.
Country music played low from the cracked-open windows, the twangy drawl clashing violently with my mounting rage.
One of them had the audacity to smile at me.
Fucking smile—can you believe that?
“Excuse me, the name’s Jaxson,” he said, all Southern charm and sinful biceps, “and I was wonderin’ if you could help us? Is this Maccon City?”
I blinked.
Twice.
Then I channeled every drop of righteous fury passed down to me from generations of strong Castor women and snapped.
“No. This is not Maccon City. You’re in Castor’s Corner. I’m Evelyn Castor—mayor and pissed-off citizen—and unless one of you brought a fire extinguisher, a peace offering, or a damn portal key to reverse a magical disaster, I suggest you stop smiling and start explaining.”
And this moment right there? This was the moment everything changed.
And me? I hadn’t even had a doughnut yet.
So, how did everything go wrong? Well. Let’s start at the beginning.