Chapter 19
Willow
Iwas awakened by the sun streaming through the window for the first time in years. Not my own window, unfortunately.
After Wyatt and I’d had our passionately dangerous moment last night, Jordyn and Harlow had insisted that we have a slumber party over at Jordyn and Iris’s apartment.
Iris had her own paranormal situation to deal with, and Ramona had somehow been the connection between us.
A connection that was too tangled for my brain to unknot at the moment.
My head was pounding from stress and too much sleep, but it was the marks that Wyatt had left on me that were causing me the most grief. The bite on my neck was sore; he’d hit a nerve just right, and every time I moved my head, I felt the stinging reminder of tooth and claw.
“Here,” Harlow said, appearing from behind the couch I’d slept on. “Jordyn says to drink this.”
I sat up and pulled the blanket to my chin. “Thanks, I think.”
Harlow placed a bulbous mug into my waiting palms. The pottery was rough and looked hand-thrown, and it fit perfectly in my hands, warming all my fingers from base to tip.
I wondered if one of the witches in the coven was selling them.
“Sip it slowly,” Jordyn called from somewhere behind me. “The healing properties take a bit of time to absorb, and Citrine says the crystal at the bottom of your cup needs to steep.”
“Did you tell Citrine what the crystal was for?” I didn’t suspect that the owner of Stars and Stones was the one blackmailing me, but I didn’t want the news getting around either.
“Just a healing crystal,” Jordyn replied. “Didn’t say who it was for.”
I turned to find her sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by all manner of bottles, candles, and bundles of dried herbs.
I pressed the edge of the mug to my lips and inhaled. The anise or fennel or maybe licorice root hit the back of my palate, making me gag.
“It smells like ass,” I muttered under my breath to Harlow.
“Drink it. It’s going to help you heal faster.” Harlow plopped down on the sofa beside me. “Though, punching Wyatt in the face a couple of times is the only thing that’s going to heal me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You versus a fully grown alpha werewolf?” Jordyn jumped in. “Let’s not let that idea leave this room, okay, babe?”
Harlow balked. “Someone needs to teach that wolf a lesson on not attacking the people you claim to care about.”
“He didn’t attack me,” I pushed back. “Neither of us knew his sigil was broken in all the chaos, and things got a little out of hand, romantically—”
Harlow blinked at me. “And now I need to go pour acid in my ears, thanks.”
I scoffed. “Oh, please. You and Jordyn have been number one in the TMI department for over a year.”
“She’s got a point,” Jordyn added, grinning at something floral in her mortar. “And at least Randy didn’t catch them getting frisky in the pumpkin patch.”
Harlow’s face blazed red. “Hey, it was only fair after catching him and Avery smooching behind the toolshed.”
My ears perked at that. Avery and I had been getting closer over the last few weeks, and I made a note to ask her some veiled questions later. Maybe she’d spill the tea on her and Randy. They’d managed to keep it a secret even from Agnes, which was impressive.
“Anyway,” I said, refocusing on my tea, “Wyatt was able to realize what he was doing before anything escalated.”
“The fact that he stopped himself from shifting long enough to get away from you is impressive, to say the least,” Jordyn said. “It’s a full moon and you’re his mate and he had the wherewithal to send you to the witches to ward against him. I’m pretty sure that’s wolf boy for love.”
Warmth bloomed across my chest as I took another sip, and I felt an instant ease in the pain in my neck.
I was still trying to wrap my head around those few seconds when my kind, gentle Wyatt had morphed into something wild and hungry. I’d never known Wyatt as a wolf, and that realization hit me harder than the pungent herbs in my tea.
Was I na?ve to think there was a way for us to be together without it ending in tragedy?
“Hey, Jordyn?” I called. “If I wanted to do some research on werewolves, where should I start?”
“Oh, now you decide it’s time to do some digging,” Harlow snarked. “Where was that before you started dating the most wolfed-out man in town?”
Jordyn snickered. “That’s probably a question for Diana,” she said, naming the owner of Bones and Tomes Bookstore. “She has quite an extensive collection.”
I got to my feet and let the blanket slump onto the couch. A flash of black fur took my place, curling into the dark fabric to make spooky little void biscuits.
“Where are you going?” Harlow asked, giving Ichabod chin scratches while he purred at her touch.
“I’m fine, Harlow,” I grumbled, holding my arms out and doing a little twirl to prove I was still in one piece. “It was just a love bite. I’m not mortally wounded.”
“Why don’t you just take a day to chill? I’ve already called Dean to get working on repairing the café door. Everyone in town knows the café is closed for repairs, and you could really use a break anyway.”
“I can’t just sit here,” I replied, skirting my sister. “I’m a freaking ball of anxiety, and I need to know what’s going on. Maybe the bookstore will have some answers.”
“Need I remind you that we have no idea who is threatening you?” Harlow cut in, pointing to the bowl containing the charred remains of the notes.
The location spell had been supernaturally blocked by whoever was leaving them for me.
Clearly, they had taken the proper precautions to ensure that the residents of Maple Hollow would not be able to find them.
That left us with fingerprinting the knife—something we still hadn’t brought to Dougall because who was to say that he wouldn’t withhold information if the perpetrator was a werewolf?
I got to the door and looked around for my shoes.
“Let me get the books,” Harlow suggested. “You stay here with Jordyn, where we know you’re safe.”
“I have never felt unsafe in my town, and I will not start now,” I pushed. “Besides, I need some fresh air. Too much incense in here, no offense.”
“None taken.” Jordyn lifted her hand but not her eyes from the kitchen table.
“Okay, fine. But I’m coming with you,” Harlow said, grabbing her bomber jacket. “I’m not leaving you alone until we know who is harassing you.”
I didn’t fight her on it. Having backup wasn’t a bad idea.
When we got down the street, we saw there was already a crowd gathering at the café. I cringed when I thought about all the revenue lost just by closing for a single day during the busy season.
“Let’s take the back way.” Harlow must have shared the same thought because she looped her arm around mine and directed me toward the back of the apothecary and down two extra streets before we crossed the town square to the bookstore.
Bones and Tomes was a labyrinth of dusty, old books stacked to the ceiling, thick carpets, velvet couches, and dark wood tables displaying newer titles. It was still midmorning, but there was never a lull this time of year.
A group of young women who looked like they were here on a bachelorette vacation, judging by their matching sweat sets and sashes, each held a takeaway cup from Midnight Market, but the logo was crossed out and something was scrawled over it in red marker.
One of the women held up a small paperback for her friend to see. “Delaney, here’s that sex magic book I was telling you about.”
Delaney, a tall brunette woman who wore a bride sash across her chest, crossed the room and set her cup on a shelf, finally giving me a good look at what was written on it: Witch’s Brew Pop-up.
What the hell?
“Excuse me?” I heard myself ask. I pointed to the message on Delaney’s cup. “What does Witch’s Brew Pop-up mean?”
I really hoped I wasn’t being pushed out of town and having my business stolen out from under me.
Both women shrugged.
“I guess the town only has one coffee house, and the owner had some sort of accident last night,” Delaney answered.
“So, the creepy green-head guy put out hot chocolate and drip coffee at the market in exchange for donations to repair the café,” the other woman finished.
“Oh.” My voice cracked. “That’s . . . really nice.”
Another of the bridesmaids stumbled toward us, a cup in one hand and two books on love magic in the other. “It was sweet and all, but the cute guy wasn’t there today. They would have gotten way more money if they had him out front.”
“With his shirt off!” added Delaney.
“Yeah!” chorused her friends, and they all made their way to the checkout desk, ready to continue their shopping crawl.
I turned to Harlow, who looked just as surprised and touched as I did.
“That may have been my idea,” came a voice from behind one of the shelves.
Avery stepped around the endcap with caution, tucking a copy of Fangs for Nothing by Steffanie Holmes under her arm.
“I didn’t mean to pry, but I saw Wyatt running from the café last night on my walk about town. I ran to get help, but you were already gone by the time Billy and I got there. We saw you in the window of the apartment above the apothecary and figured the witches had a handle on it.”
I looked at my sister, who was still in shock.
Harlow rubbed the back of her neck, putting the pieces together.
“I had no idea what Billy had in mind. He offered to have Dean come and help with the repairs, but I guess he had other tricks up his oversized sleeves.”
I glanced back at Avery, and she shrugged as if the gesture were no big deal. “I had a shift at the ice cream counter, and somewhere between refilling the caramel cone coffee and the cinnamon bun ice cream tubs, the idea hit me.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted truthfully.
The town had always supported local businesses and fought off any large corporations that tried to wiggle their way in.
But this was another level of support that I had never expected.
Even though the town always rallied around its own, I had never considered that “one of their own” could include me.
Avery’s red lips quirked. “It’s nothing fancy, but hopefully it’ll help.”
I hauled her in for a big hug. Apparently, I was becoming the town hugger. Avery patted my back the best she could with my arms pinning hers to her sides.
“You’re welcome, I think?” she said as I pulled away.
“I can’t thank you enough.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder at Harlow. “I was forced to take the day off until the door was fixed. I don’t do well with time off.”
“You don’t say.” Avery rolled her eyes. “So you came to the bookstore? Good choice, I guess, but on your one day off, you really should’ve taken a trip to Sugar Plum Valley.”
“I didn’t take you for a candy canes and snowmen kind of gal, Avery.”
“I’m not,” she deadpanned. “But it’s their off-season, so all the monsters are hitting them up before the weather shifts.”
I cringed at the word shifts. “Maybe the next time I need to get out of town, I’ll consider it. We’ll make it a girls’ trip.”
She beamed at that. Well, Avery’s version of beaming, which was more like a subtle eyebrow lift.
“Isn’t that the Christmas town just north of here?” Harlow chirped up behind me. “Jordyn and Iris have been talking about it for months. Apparently, they have the world’s best hot chocolate. I want to go too.”
“We’ll make a plan,” Avery assured her. “I have to get back to the market, but we’ll talk later, yeah?”
I nodded as she left the shop, then turned to Harlow. “Okay, where are the werewolf reference books?”
“Aisle three,” the witch at the counter called, pointing toward the left without looking up from her phone. The gemstones dangling from her eyeglasses chains glittered with the movement.
“Thanks, Diana,” Harlow called, then said to me in a hushed tone, “She hears everything. Jordyn says it’s a spell to help her assist customers, but I think she just likes to eavesdrop from afar.”
Diana appeared at my side, making me jump. “Actually, it’s both.”
Diana Kang was a witch in her forties with a bookish, eclectic style. Today, she wore a chunky cardigan, billowy top, and brown loafers, and her straight black hair was tied at the nape of her neck in a bun. She and Citrine were also known as the biggest partakers of the coven’s witch weed.
“All the werewolf lore we have is filtered through the wolf pack. They have to keep some secrets to themselves,” Diana mused, panning her gaze up and down my body. “But what’s a little exchange of favors between friends?”
Harlow and I looked at one another. I shouldn’t get more people involved, but from the look in Diana’s mystically dark eyes, I didn’t think it mattered.
“Sure,” I said. “I can try to help with a small, equal-in-size favor. I need all the help I can get.”
She peered around the shop, then leaned in closer to whisper, “There have been rumblings among the older generations of the pack. Some have been vocal about the soon-to-be alpha, but none louder than Sandra Sullivan . . . and Marcus Farris.”
I wasn’t surprised by that information. Marcus was Aisling and Liam’s maternal grandfather and the town physical therapist. He was training his nephew to take over the practice, but Jeremy had only graduated last year and had a long way to go.
It seemed the pack was rife with torches that needed to be passed these days.
“Thanks, Diana. That’s actually a big help,” I said, taking one step toward the exit before her bejeweled fingers gently tugged my wrist.
“Not so fast,” she said, dreamy-eyed. “I quest for something as well.”
I bit my tongue at her use of the word “quest.” Unless she wanted to launch a Dungeons & Dragons campaign, I was going to be no help with any questing. Besides, what would I possibly have that she couldn’t find with magic?
She made a large circle with her fingers and peered through it at me. “Last year, Wyatt ran a special on these gooey berry cookies—I can’t remember the name—and he swore they were an adaptation from a family secret.”
“I—the blackberry cobbler cookies?” I guessed, and she nodded. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t have the recipe.”
“I don’t want the recipe.” She shook her head, lowering her hands to make an X. “I would like for you to persuade him to make them year-round.”
“Oh . . . okay, I’ll see what I can do,” I said, swapping bemused glances with my sister. All it took was the ever-so-slight widening of Harlow’s eyes and we stepped several paces toward the door in tandem. “Thanks again, Diana. If I survive the week, I owe you any drink at the café, on the house.”
“I make a mean iced wild-berry latte,” Harlow added just before the door closed behind us.